The Paradox Initiative (23 page)

‘
Let the stars of the twilight thereof be dark; let it look for light, but have none; neither let it see the dawning of the day: Because it shut not up the doors of my mother’s womb, nor hid sorrow from mine eyes.’

’For now should I have laid still and be
en quiet, I should have slept:…’ ‘Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul; Which long for death, but it cometh not; and dig for it more than for hid treasures; Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad, when they can find the grave? Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?’ ’For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me.’

“Here’s more, Kith!” she called, and read them out one at a time.

three

seveneightshadowstareighttwo

goonbrowneyes

findem

“Three,” she said. “Seven-eight-shadow-star-eight-two.” Kestrel stopped. Then, slowly, she read out the last part. “Go on, Brown Eyes. Find ‘em.”

Her fingers closed around the edges of the book as the pieces silently clicked together in her mind.

Station, level one, two and three. Sequences of words and numbers.

The Gain Station levels.

And their access codes.

Kestrel sank down into the nearest chair, staring up at the letters on th
e screen but seeing none of them. Her fingers closed around the medals.

Wolfe had
found the codes. Sometime between their initial meeting and their second, he had bribed, overheard or beaten the information out of someone, and then hidden the codes in such a way that only a person who knew what she was looking for would be able to find them.

He had given her exactly what she needed to enter the Gain Station
’s restricted levels and start the search for her family.

And he
was telling her to go on without him.

Kestrel slid the
medals in between the pages, closed the book, and sat back in the chair, her thoughts twisting and winding off into the silence.

4:15

The low
click
of the clock at the base of the entertainment console made her blink. Kestrel drew a deep breath, flexed her fingers…

And lifted her head.

She stood up. She lifted the back of her loose shirt and stuck the book into the tight waistband of her pants, then pulled her shirt down to cover it. Then, she unfastened her AdLink bracelet and set it on the armrest.

“Kith,” she said
, straightening. “Are you able to go mobile?”

“Yes, April Johnson,” Kith answered. “My mobile format is plugged into the opposite side of the entertainment console.”

Kestrel moved around the console, found and unlatched a little black square from its charging stand. She flipped it open and glanced at the screen.

KITH MOBILE

“Good,” Kestrel nodded, shutting it, reaching up and snapping it securely to her lapel. “You there?”

“
Right here
,” came Kith’s clear voice from the little box.

“I’m assuming you’re programmed with a layout of the ship,” Kestrel said, striding toward the door.

“I am.”

“Please give me directions as we go,”
Kestrel instructed as the door slid open and she left the cabin. “First, I need to get to the arcade as quickly as possible.”

“Cert
ainly. Turn left and take the Express Lift on your right.”

Kestrel found it—
framed in bright green lights—entered the lift and watched the doors shut.

“This will take you on a diagonal route,” Kith explained. “And will drop you out fifty meters from the arcade. Please hold on.”

Kestrel gripped the cold railing, and the lift shot off—sideways. She gritted her teeth and held on as the g-force pressed on her stomach. In a matter of seconds, the lift stopped and the doors opened. She strode out into the white hallway, veered right and didn’t break stride until she arrived at the main desk.

“Hello,” the young man greeted her. “What package are you interested in today?”

“Just the shooting range,” Kestrel answered, not looking at him but assessing the sparse crowd inside the colorful arcade.

“Okay, I need your card.”

Kestrel handed it to him. He scanned it, then handed it back, along with a wrist band.

“Thanks,” she said, immediately heading toward the
shooting gallery. She stuffed the bracelet into her pocket as she swept through the door. She looked back to make sure the door had shut, then cast a glance through the rest of the gallery. Mercifully, it was empty. She took the wrist band out of her pocket, tossed it on the floor, then turned toward the wall of weapons.

For a moment, she eyed the K95 pistol. Then she remembered the broken safety. Folding her arms, she spoke up.

“K98 and K90 to ground level.”

Two mechanical arms moved. Two handguns
guns lowered to her, and she snatched them up, their weight clicking in her hands. She stuffed them both into the back waistband of her pants, covered them with her shirt, then faced the gallery.

There.

She strode to a console, hopped up on top of it and jumped over into the target area.

Lights started blinking, and she sensed the game’s computer about to give her a warning—

She reached the emergency alarm lever, grabbed it and flipped it.

The lights turned
red. A deafening howl blared through the room.

“Emergency. All gamers, please proceed to front entrance. Emergency. All gamers please proceed to front entrance.”

Kestrel swung around, eyes narrowed. Then, on the left side of the row of targets, she spotted it. A door marked
Personnel Only
.

She ran
across the lanes toward it, shoved through it, and heard it click shut behind her. She had entered a white stairwell—and she began to hurry down a black flight of stairs.

“April Johnson, you have accessed a restricted passageway,” Kith warned.

“It’s okay—I’m just trying to find my lost AdLink bracelet.”

“You left it in the cabin.”

“No, the other one,” Kestrel corrected, her boots pounding on the hard metal of the landing as she swung around and darted down more stairs. “The other one I purchased. Can you give me directions from here?”

“Go back to the main commerce corridor and take lift—”

“No, Kith, from
here
,” Kestrel snapped. “From where I am
right
now.”

“Very well. Continue descending these stairs until you reach a door marked Sub-3. It is several levels down.”

“Okay,” Kestrel said. “What are these staircases used for?”

“Maintenance,” Kith answered. “And emergency travel from level to level in case of fire or hull breach.”

Kestrel didn’t answer. She just kept hurrying downward, never tiring, paying close attention to the numbers on each door as she came to each landing.

Finally, she
arrived at the door marked SUB-3—and the walls turned from white to blue. She stopped on that landing, pressed her back into a cold corner, and pulled out the K98.

She eyeballed the side of it
, setting her jaw, then reached into her pocket and pulled out her credit card. She pressed the corner of it into one of the minute screws on the handle of the gun and rapidly twisted it. That screw came loose, and she brought it up and clamped it between her teeth. She loosed the next screw, then the next. She put her card back and popped the panel off. She canted her head, frowning at the colorful knot of inside workings.

“Dusty,” she muttered through the three screws in her mouth.

“Tampering with arcade equipment is illegal, April Johnson,” Kith admonished.

“Shut up.”

Kestrel glanced up one set of stairs, then down the other. No one was coming. She pulled out her card again, stuck it into a very thin space between wires, and shut her eyes, feeling her way…

Click.

“Yesh,” she exulted, trying not to spit out the screws. Then, she replaced the panel, put the screws back in place and tightened them one at a time. She then flipped the safety and stuck the gun back into her waistband. She pulled out the K90 and quickly repeated the same process, though this gun was even dustier inside. She clicked that one’s safety on, put it in her waistband, and pulled the K98 back out. It felt better in her hand, more like the K96. Then, she took several steps away from the door, turned and assessed it.

“Does this door open on this side, Kith?” Kestrel asked.

“Not without a pass key.”

“Thought so.” Kestrel glanced down at the settings wheel on her handgun and spun it—and now, it engaged with sharp
clicking
sounds, instead of spinning freely. She thought for a second, selected one, then aimed at the door and fired.

A blast of blue lightning spat from the gun and zapped through the doorframe. The door
groaned, and sagged halfway open.

“
April Johnson
—” Kith cried.

“Sorry,
Kith,” Kestrel tugged the mobile device off her collar. “You’re getting annoying.” And she hurled it at the wall. It shattered and fell to the floor. Kestrel spun on her heel and pushed her way through the half-open door, her gun aimed loosely out in front of her. She took smooth steps, glancing up and down the blue, sterile hallways, ignoring her hammering heart.

“Just like the
second level of
Ortheus
,” she whispered to herself. “No different, no different…”

A
yellow sign hanging from the ceiling ahead of her caught her eye.

LEVEL THREE DETENTION

FIREARM REQUIRED PAST THIS POINT

“Oh, great,” Kestrel muttered.

Movement.

She threw herself to the left, into a deep doorway, as two men clad in black crossed corridors in front of her. She pressed her left shoulder against the wall and froze, listening. Their voices faded. She leaned gingerly out, easing just one eye around the corner…

Gone.

She slipped out of cover, whispering further down the hall, careful to keep her gun pointed at a forty-five degree
down angle, just like in the game.

Though, in the game, her feet never sounded this loud. The air didn’t smell like caustic cleaners. And her heart never pounded this hard.

The corridor ahead of her ended in a T. She slowed down, then leaned slowly forward, turning her head back and forth.

A short hallway, stretching about fifty meters in both directions. She eased out, her hands sweaty on her weapon
. She stepped carefully. Almost all of the cell doors stood open, empty. Only one door in the entire hallway was shut. She hesitated, then crept up to it.

A small window looked in on the cell. She stopped in front of the door, leaned up, and looked through.

“Hey!”

Her head jerked to the left.

A guard not thirty meters away pointed at her.

“Who are you?” he demanded, starting toward her. “What are you doing here?”

Kestrel raised her gun, aimed and fired.

The blue stunning blast hit him, enveloped him.

Dropped him to the ground.

Without stopping to think, Kestrel stepped back from the door, spun the settings wheel with her thumb—

Sighted and blasted the lock.

Orange flame flashed.
The door shuddered and squeaked open. She stepped forward and kicked it aside.

Jack Wolfe stood inside the cell,
backed up against the far wall. He had clearly leaped up from his pallet—it lay skewed. He stared at her for a moment, utterly stunned.

“Kestrel?”

“Thanks for the codes,” Kestrel panted, pulling his book out and holding it up, trying not to look at him. “But you’re not getting out of our deal
that
easily.”

“How did you do this?” Wolfe demanded, striding toward her and taking the book from her. He did exactly what she had—stuffed it in the back of his jeans—without taking his attention from her for an instant.

“I actually have no idea,” Kestrel admitted breathlessly,
nervously facing the door. “Guess I’ve watched too many 4-D’s and played too many games.”

“Do you understand what it is you’re doing?” he pressed, coming even closer to her. She put her hand on the doorframe, listening for the guards…

“You could ruin your life—you’re breaking someone out of
jail—”

“Did you know time-travel was illegal?” Kestrel countered, turning
back to him. His eyes, even brighter in this light, focused down on her.

“No—”

“You just got in and let the machine take you, right?”

“Yes
…”

“And you didn’t
start
in this century—you just came forward from another one.”

“Yes
.”

“
Then you didn’t break the law,” Kestrel finished, looking right up at him now. “Jakiv did, when he sent those men to
your
time. Which means he
is an intergalactic criminal, not a scientific benefactor.” Kestrel turned around and glanced out the door again. “My money’s on the odds that this is a frame-up.”

“What
do you mean?” Wolfe hissed into the back of her head.

“He tried to kill you
at least once before,” Kestrel answered, her grip tightening on her gun. “Why wouldn’t he try to take you down again?”

Wolfe fell silent. Kestrel braced herself to re-enter the hallway…

“Why are you doing this for me?”

Kestrel paused. Ev
erything inside her twisted. Wolfe’s voice lowered.

“You could have taken those codes, gotten on a transport without a hitch and snuck into the lower levels of the station without anybody being the wiser. And you can obviously handle yourse
lf—you don’t need me.” His voice became a whisper. “Come on, Kestrel. Answer me.”

She halfway turned, and lifted her gaze to his. She didn’t say anything—
couldn’t. He searched her.

His gaze settled on hers.

He swallowed.

“C’mon,” Kestrel
said roughly, pulling out the other weapon, switching it to stun, and handing it to him. “Might need this.”

“Kestrel—”

“Look, we get caught now, that’s it for both of us,” she snapped. “I’d rather not. So let’s go.”

His jaw tightened. He nodded.

“Fine. Where are we going?”

“To get transport off this thing,” she muttered, holding her gun out and stepping into the hall.

“They won’t let us on the shuttles.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Wasn’t even thinking of that.”

Alarms screeched. Flashing blue lights
shattered the air.

“That took long enough,” Wolfe muttered, hefting his gun and striding out beside her.
With her free hand, Kestrel dug in her pocket and pulled out all of her cards—the blue ID, the red Travel Permission, the purple Liquor Line Passport, the orange meal plan and the gold credit—bent and stuffed them in the front pocket of the stunned officer.

“What are you doing?” Wolfe wondered.

“They can track those,” she said. “Do you have yours with you?”

“
They’re back in the room.”

“Good,” Kestrel nodded.
“Take off the AdLink bracelet.”

Wolfe did, a
nd handed it to her. She bent and put it with the cards—

Three armed guards wheeled around the corner. Shouted. Lifted their weapons—

In tandem, Kestrel and Wolfe fired. Wolfe took down two, Kestrel the other. They charged forward, hopped over the fallen officers and broke into a run.

“Security breach. Initiating lockdown.”

A metal door far in front of them buzzed, and began to lower from the ceiling. Kestrel lengthened her strides, built her speed, Wolfe pounding beside her—

They dove. Skidded through underneath. Rolled.

The door
clanged
shut behind them.

Wolfe
winced, then lay over on his back and coughed.

“You okay?”
Kestrel gasped, reaching out to grip his arm.

“Fine,” he answered,
touching her hand. “C’mon.”

Together they scrambled to their feet. They hurried forward, trying to get their bearings. Both of them stuffed their guns in their
waistbands again, hiding them with their shirts.

“Okay, where are we?” Wolfe huffed, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth for a moment as they swung into a wider, more populated hall. Kestrel didn’t make eye-contact with anybody—all of the other people walking back and forth were dressed like ship’s crew and officers. And so far, none
of them paid them any attention.

“Sub level three,” Kestrel answered, straightening her shirt. “Three levels below the lobby.”

“Any lifts?”

“Let’s try the stairs,” Kestrel advised, eyeing another one of those doors marked
Personnel Only
. She pushed through it, Wolfe followed, and again she found herself in that blue hallway. She charged up the stairs two at a time, Wolfe on her heels.

Up, up, up they climbed
, their feet pounding, their hands sliding up the metal banisters. They finally reached the landing for LEVEL 1 and Kestrel halted. Wolfe breathed heavily as he pulled up next to her.

“You okay?” she asked again.

“You mean for a man who was dead a couple days ago?” he said, resting his hands on his hips. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep up with you.”

“All right,” Kestrel murmured, fighting back her anxiety as she aimed at the door, turned the dial on her gun and fired. This door sagged too, and she shoved it out of the way as she squeezed through. Wolfe followed, grunting.

“Lobby level,” Wolfe noted as they strode across dark carpet through the much busier hallway, headed toward the swimming pool section. “We’d better—”

Alarms sounded. Red lights in the ceiling began whirling and flashing.

“Security breach. Shuttle transport will now lock down. There will be no travel from the ship to the station or the planet’s surface. All passengers return to your cabins. Any passengers loitering outside the cabin areas will be arrested. This is not a drill.”

“How do they expect to canvas the entire ship?” Wolfe wondered as they passed the swimming pool—where
startled parents scrambled to pull their kids out of the water—and made their way toward a far corridor. “They don’t have enough staff to—”

A loud
clank
rang out behind them.

Kestrel stopped and spun—Wolfe did the same.

“They have those,” Kestrel muttered.

And five broad-shouldered, wheeled security androids, their silver surfaces gleaming and their red eyes flashing, wheeled swiftly around the reception desk. They focused—and aimed their cannon arms straight at
Wolfe and Kestrel.

“Run!” Kestrel yelled. And they turned and pelted down the hallway.

“Halt!” one of the androids called. “We will be forced to stun you!”

“That would be bad,” Wolfe
said through his teeth as they reeled around a corner. Kestrel leaped out of the way of an old man, who yelped and spilled his coffee everywhere.

A blue blast careened into the wall right next to her.

She flinched left and stumbled into Wolfe. He caught her, grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. She threw a glance behind them—

The androids raced after them, smooth as skaters on ice, their engines
thrumming.

And they were gaining.

“Will the guns work on them?” Wolfe gasped.

“Yeah—probably—”

“Grab my hand,” Wolfe ordered. “You look back and shoot.”

Her eyes flashed at him
as they skidded around a corner.

“But—”

“I’d never steer you wrong.” He grabbed her left hand and held on tight. “Go on—shoot!”

Kestrel gripped his hand hard, yanked her gun out of her waistband, flicked the dial, and, trusting Wolfe not to run her into anything, looked back over her shoulder and raised her arm even as she ran at full speed.

She sighted. Her gun bounced with her gait. She gritted her teeth…

Fired. Fired again. And again.

The yellow blasts shattered the walls, the doorframes.

One bit into an android. Punched a sharp hole in its midsection.

It lurched to a stop and fell on its face.

The others fired at her.

“Duck!” Kestrel yelled. She stumbled as she dipped down, feeling Wolfe do the same.

Blue lightning lashed the air where their heads had been.

They staggered back to an upright position, Wolfe jerking her arm. She fired backward again, nicking one android’s head. It spun sideways.

Flashing in front of them.

Kestrel faced forward—

Three security androids belted out
across their path.

Wolfe leveled his gun at them and fired.

Pang-pang-pang.

They dropped like deer. Wolfe never broke stride—he pulled Kestrel with him—

They leaped high over the fallen droids, thudding halfway to their knees on the other side—

“
Go, go!” Wolfe grabbed her by the elbow now and shoved her forward.

The androids chasing them crashed
spectacularly into the fallen ones.

Their weapons went off—lightning sprayed.

Wolfe pushed her into a ducking position and pressed his hand to the back of her head. They bobbed around yet another corner.

“C’mon,”
Kestrel snatched at his hand, tugged it and let go—

And almost tripped. She stared ahead of her at a wide door.

HANGAR BAY

PRIVATE VEHICLE STORAGE ONLY

“How…How did you know…?” Kestrel gasped. Wolfe grimly kept walking.

“
Is there another option?”

Kestrel didn’t have time to answer. Wolfe fired at the door panel, then shoved his fingers into the small gap and wrenched the door open.

They rushed out into the huge, silver-floored hangar bay, the fluorescent white lights overhead sending glitters and shimmers all across the smooth metal surfaces of the sleek ships. Their feet clanged against the panels.

“I can’t fly any of these,” Kestrel realized as they swept down the line. “I’ve only ever flown an old T289—it was only a two-passenger thirty speed with s
ub-light engines and two shield levels—”

“Like that?” Wolfe pointed. Kestrel swallowed.

Ahead of them perched a classic red T300—just a few years younger than the one Kestrel had learned on as a teenager. Two parallel wings on both sides, a graceful back fin and a narrow nose, contrasted by a blocky front spacescreen. It had a few dings in the paint, but the lines looked good. Kestrel grimaced.

“This is
really
expensive…”

“Then let’s not wreck it,” Wolfe advised, charging up to it
s flank. Kestrel took three deep breaths as she ducked under the belly next to him. She found the red lever, and flipped it.

The ramp groaned deeply, then eased down. Lights up in the cabin clicked on. All of a sudden, Kestre
l’s skin went clammy.

“We’re stealing a spaceship.”

“This was your idea,” Wolfe reminded her.

“Maybe a bad idea.”

“We’ll try to return it,” Wolfe said. “After you.”

Biting her cheek, Kestrel climbed up the ramp, feeling his footsteps
clunk
as he followed. The ramp lifted shut before they had fully entered, and Kestrel, glancing around the brown-and-white leather interior, turned left and dipped into the cockpit.

“Really,” she tried, her voice
quivering as she gripped the shoulder of the pilot’s chair. “I’ve only logged a total of maybe five hours of real spaceflight. I—”

“That’s more than me,” Wolfe cut her off, slipping through and thudding down into the copilot’s seat. “How do you work these restraints?” He reached to his right and started tugging on the straps. Kestrel gripped the chair harder. He stopped, and looked up at her.

“You’re not going to make
me
fly this, are you?”

Kestrel couldn’t answer.

“Look, they’re still coming,” he said. “And like you said—if they catch us now, that’s it for both of us.”

Kestrel gritted her teeth, and nodded. She edged forward, stepped sideways and sat down in the pilot’s seat, scanning the controls.