Silver Eyes (22 page)

“Yes,” I gritted out. “Someday— Someday.” The words were a promise that made Eddy smile. He didn't know someday was today. I dodged water bubbles and floating debris, moving closer to Eddy.

“Once this is over I'll have to get you to tell me all the little details. It's a shame about Anaximander,” Eddy said carelessly. “He was useful to have around. But I suppose I have you now.”

He smiled. The sight made me shudder. “I hate you.” I glared. Eddy would expect such clichés.

“Poor Angel.” Eddy was almost purring. “You'd kill me if you could, wouldn't you?”

“Yes.” Well, disarm him anyhow. I calculated the meter and a half of distance between us. If I pushed off hard from the floor, I should have enough speed to rip the blastgun from Eddy as I went by, but then what? There was no way to dispose of the weapon before Eddy called out my override code.

“Opening each crate is taking too long.” Eddy
frowned, then raised his voice. “This is your five-second warning. Come out now, or I'll blow you to smithereens. One. Two.”

Don't fall for it,
I thought.
He's bluffing. He wants to see your faces.

“Three. Four. Five.”

Eddy aimed at one of the crates. I was about to make a try for his gun, when President Castellan's nerve broke. “Stop! I'm in here.” Her voice came from a crate two over from the one Eddy had targeted.

“Open the crate,” Eddy said to me.

I thumbed open the latches and raised the lid, gambling that Eddy would want to gloat a little, not just kill his sister on the spot.

President Castellan emerged. Her hair was in disarray, but she showed no fear. “Hello, Edward.”

His triumph instantly turned to rage. “Don't call me that!”

She shrugged. “As you prefer. I've always thought Eddy was a little boy's name, not a man's. But then you never grew up, did you, Eddy? You see something you want and you grab it, without thinking about the consequences. You embezzled the money earmarked for Spacer Augments and squandered it on toys. You might have gotten away with it once, but you got greedy. You stole all the money, and the Spacers began to complain. You created a mess, and ever since you've been scrambling frantically to clean it up. Now you're going to kill me. But killing me will just make a bigger mess. A murder investigation this time. The UN will be all over you like a rash. You'll never be president of anything larger than a jail cell.”

“Shut up.” Face full of rage, Eddy jabbed the blastgun in her direction.

I watched his trigger finger anxiously. If I sprang at him now, the gun might go off.

“And if I don't shut up? What will you do? Kill me? Some threat. You're already going to do that.” President Castellan looked
scornful.

Eddy bared his teeth. “Yes, I am. But first I'm going to make you watch while I kill your precious legacy, your son. Angel, cuff her to a crate, then start opening the rest. When you find Timothy, bring him to me.”

President Castellan tried to resist, but I was stronger and quicker. She was cuffed to the handle of a crate within a matter of seconds. “Sorry,” I told her. “I don't want to do this. He's controlling me with a Loyalty chip.”

“Stop chatting, and hurry up!”

I moved to the closest crate and flipped up the lid. Timothy stared up at me with terror-wide eyes. “This one's empty.” I shut the lid before he started to float out.

President Castellan didn't overtly react, but from the new tension in her body I knew that she knew I was lying. “Beanstalk security will have called the UN by now. If you surrender now, you might go to jail for only a few years instead of the rest of your life.” She moved slightly, pulling Eddy's attention to her to give me a chance.

“How stupid do you think I am? I won't go to jail, if all the witnesses are dead and can't be questioned under TrueFalse,” Eddy said.

“It's not that you're stupid,” President Castellan said dispassionately as I maneuvered myself to the
side and behind Eddy with a series of small pushes. I flipped up more lids. “It's that you're lazy.”

I launched myself at Eddy. My feet hit him in the middle of his back, knocking him into a spin. Before he could react, I tore the gun from his grasp and bounded up off the floor. But the exit was too far away, and I knew it.

Where the hell were Mike and Anaximander? I'd done my job. I'd disarmed Eddy.

Any moment now Eddy was going to call out my override code and command me to stop. I tried to distract him by aiming the blastgun at the breastplate of his golden armor—

And my finger stuck in the trigger.

I couldn't pull the trigger. No matter how I struggled, my finger wouldn't move that last quarter inch.

Eddy began to laugh. He laughed and laughed, giggling helplessly, while I watched in dawning horror. “Poor Angel,” he gasped at last. “You weren't expecting that, were you? I've been playing a trick on you.”

I remembered the way I'd been unable to perceive Rianne after Eddy commanded me to “forget” her. “What did you do to me?” I demanded, but I knew. Sometime since I'd entered the cargo bay, Eddy had invoked my override command. Then later he'd commanded me to forget that he'd done so, setting up his “joke.”

“I said, ‘code fourteen,' as soon as you entered the cargo bay,” Eddy said. He was all but dancing, he was so pleased with himself. “This whole time you thought you were acting only on your own initiative. Who's the moron now, huh?”

I swallowed. “What did you do to me?”

“Which time?” Eddy grinned nastily. “The first time I used your override was back at the Operations facility.”

The time Anaximander had tried to prevent Eddy from talking to me alone and had walked into a wall.

“I commanded you to act like a chicken. You flapped your wings and cock-a-doodle-dooed and tried to lay an egg.”

I flushed with humiliation and dread. I couldn't remember acting like a chicken—Eddy had obviously used the override to wipe out my memory of the episode—but it was after that that Shadow Angel had started to fear him.

“The second time was at Timothy's convention when I talked to you alone upstairs. You told me all about your plans to give Timothy some fun by taking him to the planetarium, and then—” Eddy stopped maliciously, letting my mind imagine all sorts of horrible things. Had he made me beg? Crawl? Kiss him?

I rose to the bait. “What did you make me do?”

“I'll give you a hint,” Eddy said. “Did you have a stomachache afterward?”

I frowned, couldn't remember.

“You ate a paper plate,” Eddy said. “I told you to think it was a cupcake and eat it. Then for dessert you ate some of my pocket lint.”

“And this time?” I asked.

Another snake-slither grin. “Well, I was a little upset with you for not doing as you were told and killing Anaximander and your boyfriend. So I made you break your finger.”

I looked down at my hands and saw immediately that my left little finger was red and swollen, but I couldn't feel any pain. It wasn't even numb; it felt perfectly normal.

“I commanded you not to feel the pain,” Eddy said. “It would have spoiled the joke. But the joke's over now. Feel again.”

I gasped in agony, tears springing into my eyes, as my broken finger screamed back to life.

“Leave her alone, you sadistic creep,” President Castellan said, outraged on my behalf.

Eddy smiled as he turned his attention back to her. “Did you think you were going to be rescued? Sorry. Now then, I commanded Angel not to attack me until after she'd found Timothy so he must be in one of those three crates there.” He pointed, then turned to me. “Angel, shoot—”

I fired the blastgun before Eddy could command me to shoot Timothy. I fired into the air with the muzzle right next to my ear and the shot temporarily deafened me. The recoil propelled me backward and sent jagged pain streaking up my finger. I screamed and deliberately kept on screaming.

Eddy's mouth opened. He shouted. But I didn't hear him and therefore didn't have to obey.

I threw the blastgun away, buying time. Eddy lunged toward me, and I flung myself sideways out of reach, yelling with all my might, fingers in my ears.

Two, three, four bodies dived past me. Mike and Anaximander and several Spacers tackled Eddy, immobilizing him and unscrewing his helmet. Without his armor and his invulnerability, Eddy lost interest in fighting. He surrendered.

He looked around for me, but Mike slapped a sticky-gag over his mouth before he could yell any more commands.

Just to be on the safe side, I stayed where I was until they took him away.

Four minutes later Anaximander freed me. “Code twenty-four.”

“Thanks.” I could have asked him to put me back under override command again and tell me to stop feeling my finger, but I decided that I preferred the pain.

T
HE NEXT FEW HOURS
were total chaos.

Mike stayed with me while I got my finger splinted and numbed, and then we rejoined the main group. We got there just in time to see five UN police officers arrest Eddy.

They removed his sticky-gag. Anaximander and Mike floated on either side of me, ready to act if Eddy invoked the override, but he wasn't quite stupid enough to incriminate himself in front of UN police.

“It's about time you got here,” Eddy complained. “Those people kidnapped my nephew, Timothy Castellan. I came here to rescue him.”

“No, you didn't!” Timothy shrilled. “You tried to kill Mom and me!”

I happened to glance at President Castellan at that moment and saw the tearful joy on her face. I wondered how long it had been since Timothy called her “Mom.”

Eddy looked at Timothy with pity. “Is that what
your kidnappers told you? It's a lie. How could you even think that about me? After all the baseball games I've taken you to?”

President Castellan put her hand on Timothy's shoulder and pulled him away. “Don't waste your breath on him. We're telling the truth, and TrueFalse will bear us out.”

Eddy's smooth expression curdled. “Your persecution of me is going to hurt you at the next board meeting,” he shouted after her. “Don't think I won't be there. My lawyer will get me out of these in two shakes.” He held up his handcuffs.

President Castellan kept her back to him.

I shook my head. Eddy actually seemed to believe that he still had a place at SilverDollar, that his lawyer could somehow make the money he'd embezzled and the Loyalty chips he'd installed disappear. He'd probably never been in trouble before that he couldn't bribe his way out of. President Castellan was right; he'd never grown up.

Eddy must have continued spewing accusations, because police officers soon arrested Jerome.

I knew other arrests would follow, everything coming out under TrueFalse. Both Anaximander and Rianne had committed a crime and might go to jail. With luck, a jury would rule that they had already been punished enough, but I thought that neither Anaximander nor Rianne would mind paying the price of a few years in prison since Timothy's kidnappings had ultimately resulted in Augments for their people.

At President Castellan's request, the police officer
left off Jerome's handcuffs and merely guarded the hatchways while she and Jerome got down to some serious business.

“The Augments are our first priority,” President Castellan said. “I'll need data on who needs what and which cases are the most serious. Edward was in charge of the entire Martian mining operation so all the information I have on file is suspect. He may have inflated claims in order to embezzle more money.”

“We have our own records; I can get you that information.”

“Excellent,” President Castellan said briskly. “Now, on to finances. Edward's accounts will be frozen until after his trial; it may be a year or two before SilverDollar regains whatever remains of the funds he embezzled.”

Jerome started to draw himself up, to protest.

President Castellan held up a hand. “I can promise you five million immediately for the worst cases. I can get that out of emergency funds; the rest I'll have to argue out of the board of directors.”

I tuned out as the conversation turned to more boring budget details.

Rianne brought Mike, Timothy, and me sandwiches, then hung around the edges of the meeting. “What's happening?” she whispered as we all chowed down.

Instead of answering her, Timothy looked at her reproachfully. “What are you doing here? You promised me you'd go to the hospital.”

“There was a line,” Rianne said defensively. “Eddy injured a few people, you know.”

“They should have received treatment by now,”
Timothy said. “Come with me. You're going to the doctor right now.” He left his sandwich floating in midair, took her arm in a firm grip, and started towing her to the door.

“But I want to find out what happens!” Rianne complained.

“Mike and Angel will give you a full report,” Timothy promised, undeterred.

My lips twitched, but I didn't go to Rianne's rescue. I suspected she enjoyed Timothy's concern.

The discussion between President Castellan and Jerome had heated up. Now they were discussing the fate of the Martian mines. Jerome was pushing for a promise, and President Castellan wasn't giving it.

“Once your people receive the Augments they need, they're no longer trapped in space. They can live on Earth if they'd like.”

“But we don't like.” Jerome chopped his hands through the air. “We want to stay in space.”

“No decision has been made to close the mines,” President Castellan said. “But the economic climate is changing. If SilverDollar doesn't change with it, we'll go bankrupt and the mines will shut down anyhow. Then where will you be?”

“Then sign the mines over to us,” Jerome said stubbornly. “We'll keep them going.”

“Now, that truly isn't possible,” President Castellan said. “You're forgetting that SilverDollar doesn't own the mines. We just have a lease. You need to talk to the UN about negotiating your own lease.”

Jerome's jaw dropped.

I couldn't resist. “Or you might want to talk to
the UN about taking out a loan and terraforming Mars.”

Jerome blinked. That seemed to be a new idea, too.

President Castellan shook his hand, an awkward push-me pull-me motion in zero-G. “I need to go now and start setting in motion some of the things we discussed. I'm sure we'll talk again soon.”

The police took Jerome away. Mike and I started to push off, but President Castellan stopped us. “Angel, Mike, you're next on my list.”

“For what?” I asked warily.

“SilverDollar takes no responsibility for the Loyalty chips Edward inflicted on both of you against your will,
but,
” President Castellan emphasized, “we would like to repair some of the damage he caused. We will pay for the surgery to remove both your chips as well as psychological counseling, should you need it. Loyalty chips are ugly, ugly things. Edward used you in the worst possible way.”

I shrugged. It hadn't been pleasant, but Shadow Angel had helped me keep some self-respect. I would recover.

President Castellan went on. “We'll also sponsor a year of college education for both of you. In return, you'll sign an agreement, promising not to sue us.”

“Well,” Mike said smiling, “let's talk
about that, shall we?”

I left them to it, retreating to a corner and turning on my palmtop. I wanted to know if Mike and I had been mentioned on the news or, even worse,
identified as Renaissance children. To my relief, so far the whole thing was being reported only as “unexplained gunfire on the space station.”

While searching through news channels, I saw a clip of Zinnia and Dahlia. Both of them were crying their eyes out and hugging. The reporter announced that the Cartwright clones had been reunited after the Sons and Daughters of the Stars terrorist group had kidnapped one of them.

Zinnia refused to comment on her “harrowing experience,” but when they asked Dahlia about the size of the ransom she had paid to get her fellow clone back, she said, “I'd have to be an idiot to tell you that, but I will say this: if anyone touches my sister again they'll have me to deal with.”

My palmtop chirped, announcing that I had an incoming message. I pressed Accept, and a recording of my parents appeared on the screen.

My mother had obviously been crying recently, and my own eyes pricked in response. “Angel,” Mom said, and stopped, one hand held out in entreaty.

Dad took over. “Thank you for your message. We understand why you hadn't called before, but we've been worried about you. You can reach us at the following places.” He gave me their address and vidphone number. “When the publicity dies down, we hope that you'll come back to us, but Dr. Hatcher says he'll relay messages if that's safer for you. We love you very much.” Dad started to look a bit teary-eyed, too. “Take care. You'll always have a home with us.”

I bit my bottom lip and immediately replayed the recording. Except for the emotional strain,
both my mom and dad looked well. I wondered if they'd received their family license, if they'd landed acting roles as they'd dreamed.

I wanted quite badly to call them, but right now was the wrong time.

If Mike and I continued to live on the run from those who wanted to exploit or kill the violet-eyed, I wasn't sure if there would ever be a right time. I thought long and hard about that as I waited for Mike to finish negotiating with President Castellan.

Mike was smiling when he and President Castellan emerged from their corner. He shook hands with her, then drifted over to me. “I got it,” he said, flashing me a plastic card. “A lump sum of cash, instead of sponsoring our education. We've got what we came for, money and identicards. I say we split before the cops get around to asking us questions.”

He looked restless, and I remembered his fear that the UN would try to “put a leash on us.”

I thought about splitting, then shook my head. I was starting to think we had done the wrong thing in not sticking around after Dr. Frankenstein's death. “Let's stay.”

“What?” Mike looked astonished.

I turned all my persuasion on Mike. “If you want to run again, I'll go with you. That's not an issue. But I want to accept Dr. Hatcher's offer to go into a protection program for Renaissance children.” I took a deep breath. “I want more than just identicards and money. I want the chip out of my head for good. It's true that we could buy new identities with the money President Castellan is
going to give us—finish high school, go to college, have careers—but we'd always be looking over our shoulders, afraid of being recognized, afraid to make friends. I want to stay friends with Timothy and Rianne. I miss Wendy—she was my best friend back in Chinchaga. I want to find out if she's forgiven her father and if she's still dating Carl. I want to see my parents again.”

Beside me Mike tensed, a silent protest, and I held his hand. “Will you at least talk to Dr. Hatcher?”

“Yes, but it won't change anything,” Mike said. “Dr. Hatcher may be the great guy you think he is, but what if he isn't? What if he's setting another trap, or the UN wants us to spy for them?”

“Then we escape again. It's not like we haven't done it before,” I said wryly. “We'll survive.”