Convergence (26 page)

“No,” Adam whispered. “Not you. It can’t be true. I won’t
let
it be true.” He inhaled a stilted breath. “I can’t lose you, Mom.”

Victor, the man previously known
as the Hunter Athos, felt the gravity in the lower level switch.

The gravity first disappeared, and fighters in the midst of swinging swords as it happened found themselves propelled by the sword’s inertia in the direction of the swing. Victor noticed a fine dark cloud develop in the area, and many of the Aliomenti trapped suddenly sprang free, leaping into the air toward shocked Alliance targets.

That chaos lasted a few seconds before a new form of chaos began.

Victor felt a strong pull seizing hold of him, pulling him away from the ground. His boots, though, seemed sealed against the floor, and though he lifted from bottom of his boots, the tight laces kept him upright upon the ground. He found that puzzling, but the boots were a new issue and optional item for those in the submarine, mandatory for all others. Always the obedient soldier, Victor donned the boots though he’d not been required to do so.

He looked around and saw that the “mandatory” order hadn’t been followed.

Gravity had shifted from the earth to the sky inside the building and enhanced to stronger-than-Earth levels. Those floating in a gravity free environment suddenly veered straight up toward the ceiling if they weren’t wearing boots. He heard many thuds as bodies smashed against the remaining ceilings, and one member of the Aliomenti was speared as he hurtled upward and ran into shards of wood remaining behind from a floor destroyed by earlier Energy blasts. A few Aliomenti plummeted toward the floor—as a reasonable person might suspect—pulled downward by the attractive force between boots and flooring. He noted that the rate of descent varied based upon the angle of the boots in relation to the floor, suggesting the attractive force was based in the center of the sole of the boots. The boot-wearing few landed upon solid ground with far more grace than those who’d hit the ceilings.

Victor watched, fascinated on some morbid level by the effects of the anti-gravity. The fighters who’d not been killed or injured by the changes in gravity realized that their positioning was no longer predictable. Short-range teleportation became a danger, because you might return from the void and collide with the swinging sword of a fighter suddenly rising toward the ceiling or plummeting toward the ground. Instead, fighters accepted stationary roles, surrounding themselves as best they could through their fatigue and injury with Energy to both hold their vertical position and defend themselves in a minimal fashion against sword thrusts. They couldn’t use
too
much Energy, lest friends contact the force field and suffer some grievous injury.

The net effect of the gravity reversal, then, was to remove the slower pace of injury and death before, and replace it with savage sword fights between combatants who lacked physical armor or shields. He knew that if the little machines returned to their operational status the Alliance would resume their position of dominance through an ability to form invisible armor. But only
if.

He’d sped up the pace of death and injury and increased the likelihood that the Aliomenti would suffer the same outcome. Just with fewer survivors. He’d made the wrong battle decision.

Again.

He seized his phone once more, this time to end the gravity manipulations, but had to set it down as a member of the Alliance spotted him and charged. “I’m on your side!” Victor snapped, pushing the man away with a gentle burst of Energy. “I’m trying to fix this mess!”

Additional attacks thwarted each attempt to dial the number that would end this insanity. Word spread through harried whispers over communicators among the Alliance, alerting all to the presence of one of the dreaded Hunters, and he began to understand the frustration his longtime foes felt in being limited in their own response—in both cases, to avoid killing their opponent—when those foes suffered no such limitations.

After a few centuries of that, he figured
he’d
want to kill a few people as well.

He finally generated a bubble of Energy around himself, taking no pains to make it invisible, and managed to complete the phone call. Much to his surprise, the operator answered. “Cancel Operation Newton’s Apple,” he said.

“Of course, sir. I hope the test was successful.”

Test? “It wasn’t a test. The Alliance have invaded Headquarters.”

There was a pause. “Oh.” The man hesitated. “Sir, am I… can I…?”

Prior to his conversion, Victor—as Athos—would have ignored the unspoken plea, likely not even comprehending what the man’s incomplete request might mean given the stammering. But not now. “You can leave. Find somewhere safe until the fighting ends.” No sense bringing yet another fighter into the mix.

“Oh.” The man paused. “Thank you, Hunter.”

“You’re welcome.” Victor disconnected the call as he experienced a strange emotion. It was the joy of helping someone, even in so simple an action as sending an at-risk worker home.

It felt… good.

He watched the effects as normal gravity—normal direction, normal intensity—returned. They were prepared for it this time, as most were already in Energy bubbles designed to counter the effects of gravity. The only noticeable impact? He didn’t feel the upward pull within his magnetic boots any longer.

The fighters continued their sword-based death matches. Screams reverberated through the chamber as blades made contact, and the coppery, salty scent of blood began to overwhelm.

In a fit of desperation, he decided for honesty.

Victor used Energy to project his voice, adding a telepathic push as well, hoping the Leader and Porthos didn’t hear his words. “Everyone! Listen to me! We all need to lay down our swords and stop this fighting! How many more must die before we realize all of this is pointless?”

Nobody stopped. A pair of swordfighters who’d allowed themselves to return to the ground moved past him as metal clanged. As they moved beyond him, he heard the Alliance fighter mutter, “Nice try, Hunter.”

No fighter on either side believed him. Each believed it was a ruse, a trick to get the Alliance fighters to stop while the Aliomenti would sneak in injury-inducing sword strikes in the confusion. The Alliance here all knew about Arthur Lowell’s mind-alterations to their foes, but none believed the Hunter Athos was cured of that affliction.

He’d need to show proof of his changed allegiances.

Victor drew his sword and moved toward an ongoing battle.

Now that he’d entered the fray, he could feel the subtle use of Energy. Each fighter sent blasts of Energy at the other, not for the purpose of maiming the opponent, but to disrupt the other’s balance. He wondered if the tiny machines, disabled as gravity vanished, had resumed working and if the Alliance members here knew for certain, one way or another. There was no way Victor would know for certain unless he asked… and he knew he’d not get an answer.

When their blades clashed again, he swung his own from above, pressing both combatants’ swords toward the ground. He sent puffs of Energy at both, staggering each man. “Stop the fighting! The battle is over. How can neither of you see the truth before you? You’re fighting now for no reason but the thrill of battle.”

The Alliance member saw Victor engaging in the battle and assumed the Hunter had come to aid his fellow Aliomenti. The Alliance fighter took short swipes at both opponents. “You lie, Hunter! We’ll never give in to your lies and we’ll no longer live under your oppression.” The man took another swing at Victor, who parried the blow.

He realized fighting wasn’t the answer; the Alliance fighters would assume anything he said or did was a ploy or a ruse. He’d done nothing, still, to prove himself trustworthy in their eyes.

There was only one thing he
could
do.

He took a step back, which surprised both fighters, set his sword upon the ground, put his boot atop the weapon, and slid it across the floor. “I won’t fight either of you. Join me. Put your weapons down and be the example the others need to do the same. Save lives!”

His Aliomenti counterpart summoned Victor’s weapon back via teleportation and tossed it back to him. “You’re crazy, Hunter,” the man said. He took a swing at the Alliance fighter—and was shocked when the Hunter parried the blow.

“I’m serious. Stop fighting!”

The Aliomenti man pulled his sword back and stared at the Hunter. “What are you doing?”

The Alliance fighter elected to take advantage of the Aliomenti infighting and took a swing at the man he’d been fighting. Victor swung his blade and parried that blow as well.

“No!”

A new combatant entered the arena in a burst of Energy, followed by a shorter burst as he teleported near the trio of fighters. “I won’t let you kill any more of my people, Hunter!”

The man drew his sword and swung the blade with great ferocity, his intensity enhanced by his relative lack of muscle fatigue. Victor parried the blow, but made no effort to offer his own offensive thrust. “I will not kill anyone, friend,” he said. “I’m no longer your enemy.”

The man looked upon Victor with a curious look, daring to believe the truth in the words spoken.

The man’s body convulsed. His eyes widened in pain and horror as the Aliomenti fighter thrust his blade, unblocked, through the belly of the newcomer, a triumphant sneer upon his face. The look lasted for only a second. The Alliance fighter ran his own blade through the killer.

The two men fell to the ground. Victor stared at both in horror. Was he at fault for the deaths at his feet?

The rugged-looking Alliance survivor glared at Victor. He held his weapon in a defensive pose, but made no move to attack. His eyes narrowed. “I want to believe you, Hunter. Your Energy says you speak the truth. Prove to me that what you say is true, that you want an end to the fighting and peace. Lay down your sword.”

Victor crouched down, maintaining eye contact the entire time, and placed his sword on the ground. He returned to his full height.

The man struck him on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword, knocking Victor unconscious. The world went dark, sparing him the emotional tsunami of despair that swept the building seconds later.

Silence filled the room as
the eyes of the living fell upon one of their own. They waited as he let his tears flow, unable to control the genuine grief. Will took a hesitant step forward, but held back, unwilling to disrupt his long-time friend. He opted instead to move to Hope and help her on her still-unsteady legs as her Energy stores replenished. Her eyes still showed pain, but the brief eye flick in his direction told him all he needed to know after so many centuries together.

She wasn’t prepared to discuss Arthur’s final message. Not yet.

Will turned back toward Adam and Eva. He felt his own grief at the immense loss of life in just this room, and wondered if the casualty count had reached a comparable volume in the lower levels. Porthos, still pinned to the ceiling in a net that sapped his Energy power, watched the proceedings, as confused about the words he’d heard as the rest of them.

Had
he heard Adam correctly? Had he imagined the words? He looked at Hope, his brow creased in confusion, and read in her expression a similar bafflement.

A faint klaxon sounded in the distance, and he felt standard gravity return. His body rested atop his legs, and he tightened his grip on Hope as she staggered briefly. They heard a terrified shout, and Will saw Porthos plunge from the ceiling. Anna’s outstretched hand slowed him until he reached a height just a few feet off the ground, and then she let him fall the rest of the way. Porthos grunted in pain on contact.

Adam’s tears began to subside at long last, and the temperature in the room began to rise. He sensed the eyes upon him and turned around, seeing upon the faces looks of grief at Eva’s loss and complete confusion. He looked down at Eva once more before looking at those in the room, a confused look forming on his face.

“We heard what you said,” Sarah said. Her voice was gentle, giving him the understanding that he need not fear their reaction as he offered his explanations.

“What did I say?” Adam asked. He frowned, searching through his memory of the past few seconds before realization dawned. “Oh. You all heard that, then.” He glanced at Will.

Will nodded.

Adam sighed. “I guess I knew the truth would come out at some point.” He glanced back at Eva. “I just wish… I wish this wasn’t that time.”

Will bit his lip, uncertain of what he should say. “Adam, if what you said is true, then… well, first of all,
is
it true?”

Adam sighed. “Yes, it’s true.” He glanced down at Eva, and the mournful sadness returned. “She’s my mother.”

The deep, awkward silence returned to the room. Anna tapped her foot nervously, then moved to Porthos, pulled a capped syringe from her pocket, and jabbed it into the squirming man. “Might as well take care of that now,” she muttered, shrugging her shoulders at the awkward looks greeting her actions. Porthos fired several epithets her way, and she zapped him with bolts of Energy that silenced him as she walked back to her mother and father.

Adam kissed Eva’s forehead and gently closed her eyes before resting her gently upon the ground. He then stood up and looked around. “This reaction is the reason they never told any of you the truth.”

Hope winced. “Adam, I’m sorry, I just… they were… and you… you’re…”

Adam offered her a gentle look. “I’m
what
, Hope?”

“I don’t know the word, but…”

Adam sighed. “I don’t know if there’s a word for what you’re thinking,” he said. He shuddered once more. “You’d think you’d be more prepared to deal with someone’s death when they’re thousands of years old, but it’s not true.” He shook his head. “None of what you think is true about her or about me.”

“You’re never prepared for the loss of those you… care…” Will paused. “Wait. What’s not true? And did you say
thousands
of years old?”