Convergence Page 25

  Nobody asked what they’d do if the medicine no longer worked. But Will noted that all of them checked the swords hanging at their sides or across their backs.

  The third and final group would remain at Headquarters, working on identifying and transporting the dead in the lower levels. Hope, Angel, Fil, Sarah, and Anna would remain behind, along with the most grievously injured among the Alliance and Aliomenti. As those Aliomenti not cured with the medicine in this space tended to be among the dead, Headquarters remained the safest place on the Island.

  Will stood near Fil, watching Anna and Sarah explain to a pair of men with broken arms the most efficient means of loading bodies into bags and their approach to labeling those bags. He glanced at his son. “Make certain that you—”

  “Keep an eye on Sarah.” Fil nodded. “That’s why I volunteered to stay here. I knew that she’d demand to go to one of the other sites and fight. But if I’m here, it’s easier for her to make the same decision.” He seized Will’s arm. “But Dad, if things get rough out there…”

  “I’ll contact you.” Will appreciated Fil’s act on Sarah’s behalf. He could feel Fil’s desire to join the more combat-ready units heading to the two residential areas of the Island, but knew his son would never forgive himself if he failed to protect Sarah again. Fil, understandably, worried less about Anna, whose Energy rivaled Angel’s. She could take care of herself in any circumstance. “Fil, just… watch out for Porthos. If he hasn’t left the Island, I doubt he’s gone far. This is the part of the Island that he knows best. And he’ll be looking for a chance to exact revenge on us.”

  Fil nodded. “I know. This is the safest place from a numbers perspective. But in many ways, it’s the most dangerous because he’s the one we can’t change with the medicine.” He watched Sarah, his icy blue eyes filled with a steely resolve. “Don’t worry. I won’t let her out of my sight.”

  The survivors split into their chosen teams. Fil headed back toward the Headquarters building, joined by Sarah, Anna, Hope, Angel, and the handful of wounded Aliomenti. Anna wouldn’t leave her mother—whom she rightly understood to be in danger—or her father after the long separation. Angel, still reeling from Charlie’s sudden death, wanted the comfort of Hope’s youthful presence. She didn’t trust herself to react quickly in one of the more likely open combat zones either.

  Ian’s team moved to the monorail station. The Aliomenti, confused how to work the train, tried to use the palm reader and found themselves denied access through the gate. There were murmurings of confusion, grumbling that they ought to just teleport to the village and be done with it, and others openly wondering why the humans put up with such nonsense every day.

  Ian rolled his eyes and blasted the palm reader and the gate structure to dust. “Permission to board the train is hereby granted. Let’s move, people.”

  They filed into the empty monorail train car. Moments later, the automated vehicle accelerated out of the station toward the human settlements on the eastern side of the Island. Will wished them a dull, boring journey, and hoped they’d find the settlements empty of all who might do them harm.

  He glanced at Adam. “Ready?”

  Adam nodded. “I know you argued that the most dangerous portion of the Island was the village, but… you do realize that if the surviving Aliomenti want to spring a trap, they’d do so in their own village, right?”

  Will nodded. “Most of them have never been to the human village. The traps would be here. Yes, they may find a few survivors there, but I suspect they’ll be wandering around confused at the empty village, not plotting an attack.” His face tightened. “In other words, it’s why I picked this group.”

  Adam nodded. “Same here.”

  They followed the Aliomenti on foot to the south, away from the Headquarters building and beyond the large concrete Plaza surrounding the building. There, they found communal ground vehicles that looked like the sidecars attached to the motorcycles of Will’s youth. The driver directed the ground car by shifting their weight inside the vehicle. Leaning forward accelerated the craft, leaning back slowed or stopped the vehicle. It took only a few seconds to master the transportation, which Will found oddly similar to riding a bicycle, but without the tiring effect on his legs. The Aliomenti with them noted that the vehicles were crash resistant, a feature Will wasn’t eager to test.

  The Aliomenti district loomed into view. It was a section of the Island Will had never visited, and it was another reason Adam had correctly assessed this as the most dangerous part of the Island for the ongoing battle. The Alliance had a great deal of experience with and familiarity around the human settlements, having used it as an entry point to the Island on every observation journey undertaken in the past few centuries. They’d just fought major battles inside Headquarters, a place they’d routinely visited during those trips. The monolithic building now stood largely devoid of threats, save for the oncoming smell of decay.

  They’d avoided the Aliomenti district in the past as they’d find little here of benefit. They’d find the most critical intelligence with Arthur and the Hunters at the Headquarters building. Those men would be unlikely to divulge anything of interest to hidden Alliance spies here among the rank and file Aliomenti. And the sheer concentration of Aliomenti here brought with it a higher probability of accidental detection and capture than elsewhere on the Island, where Aliomenti presence was more distant or scattered.

  They rounded a bend in the road and entered the major portion of the district, which reminded Will of the gambling mecca known as Las Vegas from his youth.

  Adam winced and glanced over at him. “This is not good.”

  Will grimaced. No, this was not good at all.

  XL

  THE TRAIN RIDE TO THE human village was anything but dull. Thankfully, the excitement had nothing to do with not-so-surprising Aliomenti attacks.

  Ian had watched those accompanying him crowd into a handful of the dozen monorail cars, as if they thought there would be safety in numbers. He realized that the random, compressed approach exposed them to a surprise attack. A bomb tossed into one car might easily damage the surrounding cars, and in so doing kill all travelers. They’d also miss the opportunity to take in the widest view of the human village when they’d arrive, and prevent a concentrated attack by the still-programmed as they exited the cars.

  He thus moved through the crowded monorail cars, urging everyone to spread out, especially urging former Aliomenti and former Alliance to stick together. The groups in this post Leader world had merged into a single loose interest group, more diverse than any type of political or leadership structure. The results weren’t perfect—the distribution of people resembled a bell curve more than a flat line—but it was better than the original squashed groups of people segregating themselves by former residential addresses.

  The train pulled to a stop at the station outside the human village, leading those aboard the train to cease conversations. The quiet was nearly deafening, so quiet he could hear the elevation engines purring, keeping the monorail noiseless and afloat above the single rail.

  Ian knew it would be a quiet trip immediately.

  He wasn’t Porthos, the man they were chasing. He had no innate, incredible ability to track and sense Energy to a degree others could only imagine. But like all Energy users, he could sense the existence of Energy to a general degree. If Arthur had in fact sent dozens or hundreds of Aliomenti here, they’d be generating enough Energy for Ian and the others to sense. The facial expressions of those traveling with him told the story. No one on the train detected any Aliomenti presence here in the village.

  Ian, cautious by nature, motioned for the others to wait aboard the train. He stepped out silently when the doors opened and looked around.

  The silence was almost eerie. In a village of this size, with housing for several thousand, he’d expect at least a few dozen people around at any time. Some people worked night shifts, and at this hour they’d be rustling about, generating n
oise as they readied themselves for the day. They might perhaps move around outdoors, availing themselves of the fresh air with the hint of ocean salt and the bright sunshine. The teleportation machines had done their job, removing from the Island all human residents.

  It was a ghost town. He needed to ensure there were no Energy-wielding ghosts hiding, waiting to jump out and surprise them in a deadly manner.

  He strode from the platform, moving deeper into the village square, listening intently for sounds both audible and Energy in nature. Efforts at concealment might shroud the numbers of those living in this space from a distance like the train station. In moving through the village, though, he ought to be able to hear them breathing or shifting their weight, dislodging loose bits of concrete and pavement.

  He still sensed nothing. He jogged back into view of the train station and motioned for the others to join him. They spread out and moved through the village, pushing open doors and looking through windows. They saw uneaten food upon tables, refrigerator doors open, water running in sinks, all evidence of the sudden departure of the residents. But there were no sounds of talking, no rustling of clothes, no footsteps inside the homes or on the sidewalks.

  Most of those who’d arrived on the train now moved with confidence, without any sense of unease, certain now that there were no Aliomenti here lying in wait.

  But Ian felt a sense of unease. Something was wrong.

  They’d as yet failed to locate Porthos, a member of the Aliomenti they’d need to treat differently than any others. Like most of the Aliomenti, Porthos never tried to mask his Energy. No one could Track like Porthos, but he’d never been difficult to find when they’d looked. Porthos was no neophyte; he had five centuries of Energy growth shouting out his location. A man like that should be traceable while still on the Island. Headquarters Island rested fifty miles from the next landmass, and much farther from any type of habitable land. Efforts to reach those locales via teleportation would register powerfully across the Island, a surge of Energy they’d notice even if distracted by other activities. One simply couldn’t teleport fifty miles or more quietly.

  That told Ian that they were facing one of three scenarios.

  He first considered the idea that Porthos had remained on the Island and had something akin to a Shield protecting him from Energy-based discovery. The opposite scenario—that Porthos had used such technology and teleported from the Island without detection—also merited consideration. Both scenarios required accepting the idea that Porthos would submit himself to any type of dampering or hiding of his Energy. Many Aliomenti considered the lessening of one’s Energy almost sacrilege, subjugating themselves in a way that made them almost human, if only for a brief period of time. If Porthos hadn’t been programmed at all, those deep-rooted beliefs and practices wouldn’t disappear in an emergency.

  It was the third possibility—that Porthos had left the Island using something other than teleportation—that struck him as the most likely. He simply couldn’t pull to the surface the nagging thought that everything pointed to some disaster awaiting, that he was missing something obvious that would explain his apprehension.

  He moved beyond the human village and into the forest beyond, walking through the information they’d gathered in their intelligence-gathering efforts. At any time, there were only about one thousand Aliomenti on the Island. The remaining majority—nearly nine thousand at any given time—spent their lives working in very public, highly compensated jobs designed to help the Aliomenti extract money from the human population. Others worked off-Island, looking for potential recruits to present to the Leader. He knew an approximate number of dead or converted inside Headquarters. He knew how many Aliomenti ought to have been working in the building at the time of the Invasion. And he knew how many ought to be living in the Aliomenti District south of Headquarters.

  The numbers jumbled together and then emerged into a clear pattern. And that pattern spelled danger.

  Ian’s eyes widened as he flipped open his communicator. Those with him gathered around, curious what he’d be able to report from an empty human village. They’d sensed his sudden surge of trepidation, and wondered what he’d ascertained from the information before him. “Will, it’s Ian.”

  There was a delay in the response. “It’s Will.”

  “Arthur never sent Aliomenti here. It was misdirection. He—”

  “He sent them to the District.”

  Ian felt a chill run down his spine. “Take care, Will.” He snapped the communicator off and cursed, throwing the device to the ground and stomping on it until nothing remained but slivers.

  There were murmurs of concern and confusion.

  Ian grimaced. “Arthur tricked us. His statement about having those outside the building head here to take hostages was intended to do exactly what we did: split up our surviving people and send our strongest fighters here. He didn’t care about killing humans, though, or threatening them. That’s why there are no Aliomenti here.”

  “So he lied?”

  Ian nodded, his face full of pain. “His words were meant to serve as a decoy. Identify the threat we’d be most concerned about—at-risk humans—in a manner that would ensure we’d split up and take great amounts of time and effort as we sought to get here without notice. He never sent them here. We just sent the bulk of our fighting force to a spot on the Island with no one to fight.”

  “But—”

  “They’re all in the Aliomenti District. All of them. And we just sent an undersized and overwhelmed unit there to fight.” Ian kicked the ground as he looked up. “In other words, we just sent Will, Adam, and the others on a suicide mission.”

  XLI

  THEY’D ENTERED THE VILLAGE IN the cars, moving through a brick wall via wrought iron gates over twenty feet high. The gates swung in as they approached. Will suspected the gates opened either through recognizing the ground cars or Energy, but didn’t have an opportunity to confirm that suspicion.

  The Aliomenti lived, not surprisingly, in a series of upscale homes that showed their individual personalities, in stark contrast to the uniformity of the dwellings in the human village. Where the humans were required to travel via monorail to shop for clothing and food, the Aliomenti enjoyed vast arrays of shops and restaurants within walking distance of their homes. Even those living on the outskirts, farthest away from the service industries, were able to use the communal ground cars for ease of transport should they elect to avoid the Energy drain of a teleportation hop.

  Intelligence suggested that humans worked the stores and restaurants, and few doubted that those workers left each day with memories erased or altered lest they remember seeing Energy-based skills and share that news with their human neighbors upon returning home. He peered behind a small ice cream shop near the entrance and caught sight of metal stairs leading below ground level, with signage suggesting a subway system providing transport back to Headquarters Plaza. Will realized the humans working here probably found their memories of the workday fogged during the ride to Headquarters, where they’d join their peers on the monorail ride back to their homes.

  Will glanced at the music amphitheater and movie theater and decided that while the Aliomenti had many faults, they definitely put some emphasis on culture. Of course, he’d never been in either building and had no way to know for certain the quality of the performances in either establishment.

  The unique designs of each home and the relatively compact size of each would make the deprogramming effort difficult. They’d hoped for large indoor spaces where they’d be able to inject medicine to large numbers of Aliomenti at a time without enabling any to escape and warn their peers. But the signage on the two theaters in sight made it clear that the schedule for the day was cleared, and thus any Aliomenti here were likely to be inside the smaller shops and restaurants or homes. They’d only be able to work on a handful at a time inside each building.

  The problem they’d immediately noted, however, meant they’d not get t
hat chance.

  The Aliomenti weren’t scattered in their homes or shops or restaurants. They weren’t few in number here, with the bulk of the force off in the human villages battling Ian’s more prepared troops. Hundreds of Aliomenti congregated in the central square of the miniature city. Though their initial mannerisms suggested a social gathering, all turned wary eyes upon the ground cars entering the area as a pack, eyes narrowing as several of their friends disembarked.

  “This was a stupid move,” Will muttered. He doubted that the self-centered Aliomenti arrived home at the same time with sixty of their closest friends. They telegraphed with their numbers the abnormality of the situation, putting the Aliomenti on alert.

  It didn’t help that the clear tops of the ground cars provided each of them a clear view of a face burned into their minds by their Leader. It was the face of a man with jet black hair and piercing green eyes, a man named Will Stark who was said to embody everything wrong about the Alliance. They’d been told Will Stark sought to deprive them of their wealth, their health, their homes, and their lives of luxury.

  It was the face of the enemy.

  Will glanced back at Adam and the two exchanged an exasperated glance.

  So much for the element of surprise. They’d walked into a packed meeting of the Will Stark Haters Club.

  Will sat in the ground car, thinking. There were a lot of Aliomenti here, more than there ought to be based upon their calculations, and they’d moved to open spaces where the Alliance would have a more difficult time with deprogramming. It was almost as if…