The Nexus Series: Books 1-3 (48 page)

15

HOLIDAY
opened the door to Riley’s bedroom.

A limp body
slumped onto the blood-soaked carpet in the hall.  Light spilled across
the sprawled form.

Not Riley. 
A young woman.  Her roundish face was expressionless, her eyes staring at
nothing.  A gun lay on the floor near her unmoving hand.

Riley was
sitting up in his bed.  Smoke still drifted in faint trails from the
revolver in his hands.  Sweat on his bald pate gleamed in the light of the
bedside lamp.  “Giles,” he breathed.

“I see I’ve
arrived a little late,” said Holiday.  “Not that you needed my assistance,
apparently.”

“I appreciate
the thought,” said Riley, lowering his weapon with hands still shaking. 
“You’re the last person I thought I would see.”

“The last? 
Then you were expecting
her?”
the director asked, gesturing at the
fallen woman.  Her long, thin form was clothed in black.  Her bare
arms showed dark spider web tattoos.

Riley cleared
his throat.  “A suspicion, anyway.”

Holiday stepped
closer.  “You knew all along?”

The liaison
shook his head.  “I thought the shooter your team stopped this evening was
most likely after the mayor.”

“Ah.  Most
likely.  So you knew it was at least a possibility that
you
were
the target.”

“A possibility,”
Riley admitted.  He glanced toward the dead woman on the floor.  “I didn’t
know for certain until she arrived.”

“Who is she?”

“I don’t
know.  But as for why she was sent...”

Holiday looked
Riley in the eye.  “It seems there’s quite a lot you haven’t been telling
me.”

Riley looked
away.  “I know I swore not to keep secrets from you, Giles, but—”

“But you were
lying.”

The bald man
heaved a sigh.  “For your own good.”

“Ah, that old
song.”

“I don’t care if
you believe me or not,” Riley said through a frown.  “My motives have been
pure from the start.  I only meant to protect you.”

“And you’ve
succeeded—other than an assassin coming to blow the base to smithereens
tonight.”

“I assumed as
much the moment she showed up,” he said, glancing toward the dead woman. 
“If they were after me, they were after you too.  How did you manage to
stop them?”

“That’s a story
for another time.  Right now I’m more interested in hearing your story—you
know, the one about why everyone’s trying to kill us.”

Riley’s face
said he wasn’t interested in telling that story.  “I need a drink. 
Join me?”

Holiday narrowed
his eyes.  “If it will loosen your tongue.”

“I’M
dying, Giles.”

He didn’t say it
with dread.  He was simply stating a fact.  If there was any emotion
in his voice, it was something like relief.  He slowly sipped whatever it
was he’d poured into his glass from a bottle in the pantry.  His back was
to Holiday as he stared out the living room window at the city lights.

The director
leaned against the counter and listened quietly.

“They don’t know
how long I have, only that it isn’t very long.  That poor girl in my
room—I may have extended my life only a few days by ending hers.”

“Care to
elaborate on your condition?”

“My condition,”
Riley laughed softly.  “Not just mine, everyone’s.  The condition
that takes every life if something else doesn’t first.  Age, Giles. 
I’m old.  Much older than you would guess.  My time has come—came a
long time ago, in fact.  It won’t be long, now.”  He took another
drink and his glass was empty.

Holiday brought
over the bottle and refilled it.  “Someone’s decided it can’t happen soon
enough.  That ‘poor girl’ you speak of won’t be the last to come hunting
for you.”

Riley waved
carelessly.  “Let them come.  They’ll have to hurry if they want it
to matter.  A bullet won’t be much faster than my ticking clock already
is.”

“Meanwhile there
are plenty of other clocks—other bullets, with others’ names on them.  I
don’t suppose you’re interested in lending a hand to the rest of us during what
time you have left?”

Riley gave
another long, tired sigh.  “What can I do?”

“There’s an
Earthside
entity that has it in for us.  We need
reinforcements from the USP.  You’re the liaison.  Do you honestly
need this explained to you?”

“Giles, there’s
no liaison between The Nexus and the United Space Programs.”

“Excuse me?”

“Miss Cole and
I...we were two of the very select few people keeping tabs on you.  Now
Miss Cole is dead, and I’m dying.”

“But still
kicking.  Do your job, Riley.  Put someone down there on this case.”

Riley shook his
head.  “There is more going on here than you could possibly imagine,
Giles.”

“That’s your way
of saying you won’t help.”

“By not saying
anything more, I
am
helping you.  You don’t want to know more
details, trust me.”

“Is this about
the
RedEyez
?”

The bald man
shook his head.  “You put an end to Project
RedEyez
,
or at least delayed it indefinitely.  It’s much bigger than that—bigger
than you or me or the department; bigger than MS9.  I’d only be putting
you in grave danger by giving you any more information.”

“There must be
someone we can contact, at least a single, solitary soul among the scores of
United Space Program employees.”

“No,” Riley said
bluntly.  “There isn’t.  Even if there was, any communication will be
intercepted.  The people after us are clearly tapped into the USP
network.  They’ll know you made contact.  It would be suicide.”

“Someone on the
outside, then.”

“Who?  Who
would come to our aide?”

“You’re content
to do nothing?”

“There’s nothing
to be done!  We’re all alone up here, Giles.  You’ve got to get that
into your head.”

“Not everyone has
thrown in the towel, Riley.  There are still those of us who would like to
stop these attacks.  You seem to know who’s behind them.  Point us in
the right direction.”

“I’m trying to
do just that!  Don’t fight this, Giles.  Get away from here, you and
your entire department.  Disappear.  Blend into the crowd before they
find you.  It’s the only thing to be done.  You can only cheat death
for so long.”

“Well, I suppose
you of all people would know that,” Holiday said quietly, almost kindly.

The chief Home
Planet liaison’s mouth hung open slightly.  “Apparently I’m not the only
one who knows more than he’s letting on,” he whispered.

“I am sorry,
Riley.  I truly am.”

The Home Planet
liaison looked back out the window.  “Don’t be.  There are moments in
life when we must finally face certain facts.  I’m facing the fact that my
days are very numbered.”

“Facing that
fact doesn’t mean giving up on everything you’ve been standing for all along.”

“I’m in a
wheelchair, Giles.  Standing isn’t something I’m able to do any
longer.  The things I’ve believed in...they’re harder to hold onto now
than ever.”

“Harder,
certainly...and more important.”

“Or perhaps
events are trying to tell us it’s time we stopped fooling ourselves.”

Holiday shook
his head.  “ ‘Do not boast that you have stood your ground when the sun
was high, and in its radiance you reveled in beauty.  Come to the hour of
true testing, to the place where darkness tries you.  Come to the Midnight
Garden, there to behold what you are truly made of.’ ”

“I don’t suppose
you came up with that on the spot.”

“From a poem by
a man named Francis James Holiday.”

“A relative of
yours?”

“He had a son
who is better at quoting poetry than writing it.”

“You must be
very proud.”

“Don’t let go,
Riley.  Our opposition is severe.  Hold on.  Hold on to the
dream that
Anterra
can be much more than it is.”

“This is a time
for facts, Giles, not dreams.  I’ve told you, I’m facing the fact that my
time is coming to an end. Now you have to face the fact that your department’s
time is coming to an end as well.”

The words rang
in the director’s head the entire return drive.  Long after he’d parked
back in the HQ garage, he still sat pensively in his car.

“LADIES
and gentlemen, this is your director speaking.”  Holiday’s announcement
was heard from each computer and mobile in HQ.  “As you know, Sherlock has
been compromised and has therefore been ordered into hibernation.  I
sincerely wish I could tell you when this order will be rescinded, but the
person or persons behind this infiltration are unknown.  We only know they
have infiltrated the United Space Programs at every level in order to target
this department.  As of this moment, and perhaps permanently, The Nexus is
no longer an operational department of the
Anterran
government.

“I realize this
base, beyond being merely a workplace, is also home to most of you. 
Should you wish to remain here, you will not be turned away.  However, it
is my strong recommendation that you find employment and residence elsewhere as
quickly as possible.  Attacks such as the one we so narrowly escaped will
almost certainly be repeated.  We will use our extensive resources to
obtain new identities and corresponding identification cards for each one of
you, and in any way we can help you to make a new start.  Whatever you
choose, good luck to you all, and thank you for your service on behalf of our
city.”

Holiday broke
the connection and sat back in his office chair.  “May she prosper even
without Sherlock’s watchful eyes,” he added quietly.

“Well put, sir,”
said Corey.

Jill,
Dizzie
, Amber, and Bradley nodded their agreement.

Long minutes of
somber silence followed the announcement.

“Well,”
Dizzie
broke in, “I think this goes without saying, but
I’ll say it anyway.  You don’t think for one moment that any of
us
are
leaving, do you, Director?”

“Don’t speak for
everyone, Desiree.”

“She’s right,”
Amber said quickly.

“We’re with you
to the bitter end,” added Jill.

“That’s
precisely what this is,” Holiday said evenly.

“Officially,
maybe,” said Corey.  “But this place has meant too much for us to walk
away and let it die.”

“We can find out
who’s behind all this, sir,” said Bradley.  “You know we can.”

Holiday
stood.  “Take a day to think it over.”

Dizzie
snorted.  “Director, we don’t need—!”

“Yes, you do,”
he said firmly.  “I refuse to listen to a single word from any of you
until you’ve spent some time considering.  See me back here in twenty-four
hours.  Not a minute sooner.”

JILL
went to her usual thinking spot in the lounge overlooking
GoCom’s
ever busy main lobby.

Half an hour
later her thoughts were more jumbled than when she’d arrived.  She’d been
through a decade’s worth of excitement in just the last few hours, and the
adrenaline was finally wearing off and leaving her exhausted.

A couple minutes
later she was ten stories beneath
GoCom
walking down
the dormitory hall to her room.  On her way she passed the open doors of
several other rooms.  Almost everyone was packing up to leave.

Probably wise.

She closed her
door behind her and sat heavily on her bed.  It took a second to notice
the blinking signal in the corner of her computer screen that meant she had a
notification.  A closer look told her a video message had been left for
her.

Weird.  Her
mobile should have informed her, but when she checked it had no record of the
message at all.  She opened the video.

The face of the
late Anne Marie Cole appeared on the screen.  Through the window behind
her, afternoon light spilled across the
Anterran
skyline.  “Hello, Jill.  I’m sorry I couldn’t catch you in.  I
hope you don’t mind, I’m sending this message on an exclusive connection. 
I don’t want Sherlock to hear it.”  Not that that mattered anymore, Jill
thought.  She listened to the rest of the message.

Then she went
next door to wake
Dizzie
. 

16

“...I
don’t want Sherlock to hear it.  I wanted to relay one last message from
your father.  He’s ready to meet you, Jillian.  He wanted me to tell
you that he’ll be contacting you soon.  I don’t know exactly when. 
But you’ve waited so long already, you deserve to have some reassurance that it
won’t be much longer.”  The recorded face of the now dead mayor smiled
kindly.  “I’m glad to be able to bring you the good news, Jill.  And
I want to thank you for your service to our city, and to me in particular. 
I’ve always know my life is safe in the hands of you and your team.”

The screen went
blank.

Dizzie
idly fingered one of the many rings in her
ears.  “Wow.”

Jill looked at
her.  “That’s all you’ve got?  I bring you in here to get your
thoughts, and the only thing you can say is
wow?”

“Give me sec,”
Dizzie
said defensively.  “I want to think it over
before I say anything.”

“There’s a
first,” Jill muttered.

Dizzie
scowled.  “Okay, here’s a question.  Why
wouldn’t she have wanted to let Sherlock know about this message?”

“Beats me.”

“And the way
she’s thanking you, and saying she’s always known she’s safe in our
hands...” 
Dizzie
didn’t want to finish the
thought.

Jill finished it
for her.  “It sounds like she knew she was about to be killed.”

“My thoughts
exactly.”

“Not that that
helps us figure out who killed her.”

“No,
unfortunately.” 
Dizzie
cleared her
throat.  “So, how do you feel about...?”

“About meeting
my dad?” Jill shook her head.  “I don’t know,
Diz
. 
I guess I feel a lot of things at the same time.  A part of me has always
hated him for abandoning me and my mom, but another part of me has just wanted
to meet him.  Maybe I’ll be overjoyed to see him, or maybe I’ll just be
mad at him.  Or will I feel some of each?  Or will I not really feel
much of anything?  I mean, after all, he’s a total stranger to me.”

Dizzie
shrugged.  “I guess you’ll find out soon.”

Jill
sighed.  “Guess so.”

“Hey, don’t let
it worry you.” 
Dizzie
scooted closer. 
“You don’t have to try to make your emotions be a certain way.  You’ll feel
how you feel, and you’ll deal with it when the time comes, right?”

It seemed a
thousand times more complex than that.

“Right,” Jill
said.

THE
familiar grating sound startled Hyun Ki Kim awake.  He sat up on his cot
and drew the patch over his eye as the crack opened in the corner of the cement
cell.

“Message, Mr.
Kim,” said the nasally voice.

“Let’s hear it.”

“This one’s
handwritten.”  The guard slipped a folded piece of paper through the
crack.  “Wasn’t supposed to read it myself.”

“And did you?”

He didn’t
answer.

Kim retrieved
the note and unfolded it.  The message was written in bright green ink in
strange handwriting, the ends of most of the letters coiling and spiraling
across each other.  Kim recognized it immediately.  All it said
was: 
Shall I?

Kim’s heart
pounded.

“I’m supposed to
deliver an answer,” said the guard.

“Deliver it to
whom?”

“I’ll be getting
a phone call at my place tonight.  Don’t know who it is, and don’t
wanna
know.”

“Yes,” said Kim,
gritting his teeth and crumpling the note in his fist.  “Tell them my
answer is yes.”

“THE
answer is yes!” 
Dizzie
said with her mouth full
of pastry.  “There’s nothing to talk about.  We’re staying.  I
don’t want to hear a word from any of you about leaving.”

They were
gathered at a hole-in-the-wall cafe downtown for a late breakfast. 
Sunlight streamed through the window next to their table.  Outside, the
city went about its business, oblivious to the near disaster which had
threatened one of its government’s most classified departments last night.

“Not one word,”
Dizzie
said emphatically.  She glared at Bradley.

He held up his
hands innocently.  “Hey, why are you looking at me?”

“We at least
have to discuss the possibility,
Diz
,” said Corey.

Her glare shifted
to him.  “Not.  One.  Word.  We’re just waiting for the
twenty-four hours to pass by so we can get on with it!”

“The director
specifically told us to think about it.  That’s what we’re going to do.”

Amber absently
studied a bit of omelet on her upraised fork.  “It really wouldn’t be such
a terrible idea—getting out before any other attacks come.”

Dizzie
opened her mouth for another outburst until Jill
silenced her.  “Just think about it for five seconds,
Diz
.”

“Five seconds,”
Corey repeated, giving
Dizzie
a severe look.

She wrinkled her
face in a pout and took another enormous bite of her pastry.

“Most of the
department is already packed and ready to leave,” Jill observed.

“We’re not most
of the department,” said Bradley.  He sat back in his chair and sipped his
coffee.  “But I have to admit, it’s a pretty attractive prospect—a fresh
start, new horizons...”

“It’s not like
we’ll be useless,” Corey added.  “There’ll be other opportunities to help
Anterra
.  We all have skills and experience that could
come in handy in a variety of places.”

“True,” seconded
Amber, staring at the same bite on her fork.  “Running away isn’t always
cowardly.  Sometimes it’s just the best option.”

“Nobody would
blame us,” put in Bradley.

No one was
eating or drinking anything now.  Or looking at anyone else.

Of course it was
Dizzie
who broke the pensive silence.  “Well, I
think it’s been way more than five seconds.  So, how do you guys think the
director is coming along with his plan to catch whoever’s behind these
attacks?”

“I think he
already had a plan in mind last night,” Jill answered quickly.

“Yep,” Corey
agreed.

Amber tossed her
fork aside and stood.  “Can’t wait to hear it.”

“Me too,” said
Bradley, standing along with others.

Dizzie
crammed the rest of her pastry into a broad smile as
she followed the others away from the table.  “Me three!”

HOLIDAY
looked out his office windows at the HQ floor.  Around the central cluster
of cubicles a very long line of department members had formed—department
members about to become non-members.  They were processed at a desk set up
at the far end of the room.  One by one their new identities were
confirmed, they received their corresponding cards and three month’s pay.

It was like
watching a funeral.

He heard his
front office door open behind him.  “Apparently you’re not very good at
telling time,” he said without turning.

“We know it
hasn’t been twenty-four hours, sir,” Corey said behind him.

Holiday turned,
suppressing a smile as he faced his five visitors.

“Close enough,”
Dizzie
cut in, crossing her arms.

“Not so great at
mathematics either, it seems,” the director muttered.

“Don’t pretend
you’re surprised to see us already,” said Jill.

“Or that you
thought we might actually leave,” added Amber.

Holiday looked
at them one by one.  There was something like pride in his eyes.  “If
anything, I’m astonished you waited
this
long.”

“So what’s the
plan?” asked Corey.

“One that will
make you reconsider your hasty decision,” the director replied.

“Don’t sell us
short,” said Bradley.  “Let’s hear it.” 

“There’s only
one place to trace the origin of these attacks.  You’ll be traveling
home.”

“Wait, whose
home?” asked
Dizzie
.

“Everyone’s.”

She scratched
her head.  “What?”

“Everyone. 
The human race,
” Bradley said impatiently.

Amber drew a
breath.  “You mean...?”

“Yep,” said
Jill.

“We’re going to
the Home Planet,” breathed Corey.