Keystones: Tau Prime (3 page)

“Oh, Deklan,” she trilled. “The shopping up here is wonderful.” Tricia’s beaming face filled the screen. “You need to see this. I had no idea that they had shops like this.” Deklan was treated to a panoramic view of the store where his parents were. Tropical flowers and brightly colored leaves were everywhere. More interesting than anything else was Brice Tobin’s facial expression. It promised that Deklan was going to regret his suggestion earlier in the day.

“Glad you’re having a good time, Mom. As just a little side note, nothing for you to worry about or anything, I’m headed back down to Earth in a few hours.”

Tricia’s euphoria was shattered, and she treated her son to a disapproving glare. “Deklan Tobin, what are you thinking? We nearly lost you coming up here. I refuse to face that possibility again!”

Deklan held his Uplink farther away from his face than usual and turned the volume down a little. “Mom, people there need help. I abandoned everyone to get you and Dad. This is my chance to, if not make it right, at least make it better.”

Tricia looked no less annoyed from a distance, and her next words were louder despite the reduction in volume. “I don’t like it, and I don’t think you should do it.”

Deklan struck a note of contrition. “Duly noted.”

Narrowed eyes accompanied Tricia’s next words. “So it’s agreed?”

“Absolutely.”

Her face relaxed. “Oh, good.”

“Talk to you later, Mom.”

Michael eyed Deklan, the set of his jaw indicating deep suspicion. “What was that?”

Deklan brushed imaginary lint off the front of his microfiber. “She thinks that I agreed not to go down.”

Michael thought about that. “What did you actually agree to?”

“I agreed that she didn’t like it.”

“She hasn’t wised up to your tricks by now?”

“She’ll develop a sense of outrage fairly soon.”

An involuntary chuckle escaped from Michael’s throat. “You must have been an unscrupulous lawyer.”

Deklan shrugged. “Sometimes that was part and parcel of the job. Never mind, though. Shall we go to the job site?”

If there had been less urgency to the assignment, Deklan was certain that there would have been at least a week of training and at least one interview before he was entrusted to work on a spacecraft. As it was, he and Michael were among a group of five hundred who watched a presentation before being given uniforms and ship assignments.

Michael preceded Deklan into the spacecraft. They along with two women, Jamie Beal and Quentin Avery, were the support crew for their ship. The craft was new and christened
The Madeline
. She was capable of holding five hundred passengers and was equipped with rudimentary medical facilities and emergency rations. Her main fuselage was filled with rows of seats that somehow suggested this was nothing more than an ordinary excursion. Pristine fabric and materials were everywhere, the fresh scent of a newly commissioned ship being the dominant impression. It occurred to Deklan to wonder whether this ship was part of the fleet Cheshire claimed to have built.

Even Deklan’s microfiber-free uniform was new. Black with a purple right shoulder and a crest from the relief effort emblazoned on the left, the uniform had stiff creases from where it had been unfolded.

Michael’s uniform was similar, though he had two large cutouts in the shoulders for his wings.

Avery wore the same attire as Deklan and Michael, but Beal had a red shoulder emblem that designated her as a doctor. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, she looked fresh out of school. It was hard to believe that she was already licensed to practice.

The voice of their pilot, Mitchell Ashton, came over the com system. “Strap yourselves in, lads and ladies. We’re releasing the docking clamps now.”

Deklan and Michael both strapped in as a dull clanging noise signaled their ship’s release from the Ring.

“Our destination is Houston, Texas. Sit tight. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

As the artificial gravity provided from the centrifugal force vanished, loose straps in the cabin began to float. There was no feeling of acceleration or movement, just a knowledge of movement. Deklan’s attention wandered to his Uplink, which he still wore as a watch over his microfiber underclothes.

The news had taken a break from the wormhole and Keystone activities to report that in the last few minutes there had been a breach on Ring Two that had resulted in several hundred people’s being ejected into space before the fail-safes kicked in properly. Performing a rapid search, Deklan ascertained that the breach had been over ten thousand miles distant from where his parents had been shopping. It was troubling news, though. There were supposed to be redundant systems to prevent such occurrences. He couldn’t decide whether the report made him feel more or less safe on
The Madeline
.

As Deklan’s mind churned over the issue, gravity returned, gently at first and then with greater force. They had entered Earth’s atmosphere at a speed that gave the experience an immediacy a slow rise up or down a space elevator could never match. The increasing g-forces pushed Deklan into his chair, his fingertips making ten indentations in the seat’s fabric. Around him the shuttle shook with sudden turbulence.

“This was a terrible idea,” grunted Michael.

Deklan glanced over at him. Beads of sweat ran down Michael’s face, and his eyes were scrunched closed, his entire face a mask of tension. He too gripped his armrests as the cabin tossed them around.

Deklan chuckled. “How are you, of all people, not a good flier?”

Michael’s cheeks puffed out as he answered, “It’s different with wings.”

Deklan scanned the large cabin to see how the others were doing. His eyes settled on Beal. The young woman bothered Deklan, though he couldn’t say why. Beal’s bright smile showed no hint that she was on a spaceship thundering through the atmosphere. The only concession she made to the turbulence was a hair tie.

Deklan watched her with envy even as his biceps flexed to hold him in place. How did she manage to look so comfortable? His stomach lurched when they hit a more violent patch of turbulence.

Michael moaned quietly in the seat next to him. “How did you talk me into this?” he mumbled.

“You were perched at the top of a tree.” Just then the cabin jerked to the left. The motion snapped Deklan’s mouth shut, nearly costing him the tip of his tongue. “And bored out of your mind,” he added. “Besides, I wanted the company.”

“I’m never doing you another favor again,” replied Michael.

“You needed a job as much as I did.”

Michael shook his head in a series of sharp turns. “No, I’m definitely not as broke as you are.” He paused to swallow. “No more favors for you.”

“I’ll say it again. You’re getting paid.”

“Deklan, I’m wearing a microfiber vest that cost almost as much as we’re making today.”

Beal glanced over at the two of them. “Microfiber?” she chided. “For this little catch-and-release job? I’d have expected a little more pluck from the two of you. Deklan, aren’t you supposed to be immortal or something? I read an article about you as being the most advanced case of Lazarus Syndrome ever seen.”

Deklan groaned. He was probably almost as famous as Calm now. The whole world was filled with new Keystones, and he had to be the one that came back from the dead for everyone to see. “I’m not ready to take that on faith yet,” he said.

“Well, whatever you are, I’m strictly vanilla, and so’s Avery. We’re not wearing microfiber.”

“Call me paranoid. Things were hectic in Boa Vista.”

Beal’s tone was one of bemusement as she answered, “I was there. I don’t remember it as being so bad.”

“It wasn’t so bad?” Deklan asked in disbelief. “I got attacked by psychotic Keystones and watched one cut a man’s hand off.”

Beal’s face was untroubled. “Seems like you made it out okay.”

 
The gut-churning dive into the atmosphere lasted for another two minutes before the ship leveled off. Deklan heard the sound of the fusion engines increasing their output to slow their descent. Ashton’s voice came over the intercom again: “Boys and girls, we are hovering five hundred meters over the designated pickup zone in Houston. Prepare for descent.”

Deklan glanced over at Michael. “Well, that was fun. I wonder what this next part’s going to be like.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than a feeling of plummeting hit him in the stomach.

This continued for perhaps three seconds before a harsh noise interrupted the relative serenity of the cabin. Deklan glanced over his shoulder at Avery, the source of the noise.

Avery had swollen to enormous proportions, her seat harness straining against the sudden bulk. The only noise she let out was an angry snarl. As the straps tore free of her body and her uniform shredded, a furry torso appeared. Then her face contorted, the jaw elongating and the mouth widening, as a scream ripped free from her throat through jagged teeth. Her arms were corded with new muscle under advancing fur.

Propelled from her seat by the grotesque metamorphosis, Avery was forced to stoop under the now too low ceiling. Deklan watched in horror as her hands transformed. First they became thicker; then her fingers grew longer, ending in wicked nails.

Avery was left with hands that were over a meter wide. The thumb, index, and middle fingers were proportionately normal, but large gaps separated the other two digits on each hand. Leathery flaps of flesh originating in these gaps extended all the way to her ankles and continued on to what appeared to be a still developing tail that had escaped Deklan’s notice.

Avery looked like a massive, powerful, and dangerous bat.

Just then the hissing sound of escaping air alerted Deklan to the fact that the rear ramp was opening.

Avery screeched and took ponderous steps in that direction. The ceiling prevented her from walking upright, and rows of seats blocked her access to the exit. Hunched over, she clawed her way forward and lashed out at the seats closest to her, ripping them from the floor.

Her path clear, Avery ran toward the light before Deklan could think to call for Captain Ashton.

“Beal!” shouted Deklan. “We need a tranquilizer now.” Not waiting for a response, he was already moving to the rear of the craft.

Beal dashed to the medical cabinet. Drawers flew open as she ransacked them. “Pylomin!” Beal tossed a repeater syringe to Deklan. “She’ll need at least two doses.”

Deklan caught the repeater, which looked like a pistol, and ran after Avery. Michael kept pace by his side, all signs of nausea now gone. They reached the door together, but Deklan was the first out.

Before them the ramp extended down to the ground. Wide at the base, it narrowed as it came up to the rear entrance of
The Madeline
.

On the ground below people gawked as Avery launched herself into the air, spread her wings, and flew over them.

Deklan didn’t have time to be surprised when hands gripped him from behind and he too exploded into the air. “Any suggestions, Deklan?” asked Michael.

“Bring us close, and then we can drop onto her. Hopefully our combined weight will bring her down.”

“Why not just let her go?”

Lines of acidic green spurted upward from the crowd and hissed into the air behind Avery. There was at least one angry Keystone in the crowd with a power attuned for combat.

“Because we don’t know what she’ll do, and someone might kill her.” There were no good options. If they let Avery go, she might hurt people in the crowd, or they might hurt her. Deklan didn’t want to carry the guilt for whatever might happen.

Further conversation became impossible as the roar of the wind and Michael’s wing beats drowned out all other noises.

Avery’s flight was erratic and unstable. As Michael lessened the distance between them, weaving past green bolts launched from the crowd below, Deklan soon could almost reach out and touch her. When Michael let go of him, Deklan fell onto Avery’s back.

The coarse bristles of her fur made for a good handhold. When Avery rolled in the air, however, she smacked Michael with a wing, sending him tumbling away. Deklan held on with his left hand, his legs and body dangling in the air. With his right hand he pushed the repeater syringe against the leathery skin. Depressing the trigger twice, he injected Avery with a pair of doses.

There was no effect. Avery rose higher into the air, and Deklan risked another two squeezes of the syringe.

A blur of white dashed past them, reaching out for Deklan but missing. Michael circled back and regained speed. Deklan meanwhile held on with as tight a grip as he could manage, digging his fingers into the leathery skin and clutching at the bristles. Unsure of how long it would be until the sedative took effect, he was reluctant to dose Avery again. Just then she flipped upside down, an aggressive maneuver that cost Deklan his grip.

He had no time to appreciate his new situation before it felt as though he’d been hit by a truck. Michael, moving at top speed, had caught him in the air.

Deklan struggled to get his wind back. Between gasps he yelled, “I’ve got to get back to her. I still have a few shots left.”

As Michael arrowed back toward Avery, he shouted, “Do you think it’ll help?”

“I’m not sure,” replied Deklan, “but look at her. We can’t just let her go. She might be a danger to others, and anyone who sees her is either going to run away or try to kill her.”

Michael nodded and adjusted his flight to bring the two of them into alignment for another dive at Avery. As they drew closer, Deklan prepared himself for the maneuver. Avery lost height in an attempt to evade them, while Michael corralled her back toward
The Madeline
.

Drawing to within an arm’s length, Michael dropped Deklan again onto Avery’s back. Deklan’s fall lasted for a single heart-stopping second. Upon impact he gripped Avery’s torso with his right hand and wrapped his legs around her, slamming his left hand with the repeater against the thin skin of a wing.

Avery again rolled in the air, but this time Deklan was ready for the response and held on. She ignored Deklan and turned her attention to Michael, snapping her jaws on the midsection of his left wing and biting through the bone.