The Plague of Pyridian (The Other Worlds Book 2) Page 13

  Ted had got him good. Steve Lepton was asking him to renegotiate his figure. ‘I think five hundred-thousand for now.’

  Steve raised his eyebrows. It was five times the amount that he had originally been promised. ‘Very well. I can understand why you took the steps you did. It was a smart move and I understand smart.’ He tucked Luke’s laptop under his arm. ‘You’ll live to see another day, Ted. But I’ll want that virus off too. That virus can’t find its way to our subscribers. You understand, Ted? That virus could be the end of us all.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  Beth hadn’t opened her eyes since she had caught sight of the Status Mark on Connor’s right hand. She had developed a fever. Her hair was slick with sweat.

  For the most part, Connor resented being left alone with her. He could hardly take care of himself, never mind anyone else.

  As the time ticked away, he grew more anxious. He didn’t feel as safe within the city walls as he thought he would.

  Something had gone wrong.

  By his estimation, Lin had been away for hours. It had grown light outside. The sky had been an inky-purple when he arrived, now it was a glowering blue and speckled with clouds and the moons had disappeared.

  When he had banged on the door and shouted for help, no one came. It occurred to him that no one was ever coming back.

  He examined the steel-framed door. A biometric panel stood out on the wall. Lin had placed her hand on it and the door had opened and closed after her. He attempted to do the same. The door wouldn’t open for him, not one inch.

  He sighed with frustration and crossed the room to the window which looked out on to a glass tower. The window was set on a wide ledge. He couldn’t see beyond it to the ground below. For the past hour, several ships had gone by, spitting white flames from their engines. They were moving fast, sweeping, and slipping between the towering glass and steel structures.

  His bungling impatience soon got the better of him. He looked around for something to break the glass. He found a heavy iron statue in the shape of a fountain. He lifted it, his arm shaky with its weight. Keen to protect his hands and soften the noise, he partially wrapped it in the cloak he had worn. He then raised the statue over his shoulder and threw it at the window. The glass shuddered, and a splintered crack appeared in the pane.

  He gazed at Beth writhing in terror in her sleep. The noise had not woken her, but she cried out as if in pain. He waited a minute or two, listening for the sound of voices or footsteps. If there was any one close by, he knew he had raised enough noise to summon them. Still no one came.

  He lifted the statue again. He threw it harder and more recklessly than the first time. The glass gave way and sent shards flying in all directions. He shielded his eyes with his hand. To his dismay, another layer of glass loomed behind the one he had broken. He threw the statue twice more to break the outer pane. An alarm sounded in response to the breaking glass. In a frenzy, he kicked the shattered glass aside, before finally barging through it with his eyes half-closed. He cried out as a jagged shard stabbed him in the neck. He tugged it free, feeling it slice into his fingers. He stepped onto a high ledge and jumped in fright when a ship zoomed past at breakneck speed.

  The ledge converged to a slope on one side. Connor edged his way along it, his gaze fixed on the ground. He panted with exertion. He had to be at least eighty feet up, in one of the tallest buildings in the city. If he looked over the slope, he knew he would fall, but he didn’t know if he would survive. The temperature had dropped. His throat burned and tears stung his eyes as a cool wind bit them.

  The slope led him into an open tunnel. He coursed along it, his wounds knitting together as he ran. He burst from the tunnel and entered a narrow archway which brought him to a string of corridors. He stole down one but turned back when he heard voices. He took another and raced along it without stopping. It brought him to a flight of stairs.

  The stairs took him to a glass bridge from which he had a clear view of the city’s lower levels. Airships of all sizes poured out of the colossal building across from him. He saw two men and a woman standing at the building’s entrance; all wore the uniform of the Citizen fleet. One of the men had white hair. The ample insignias on his uniform indicated he was a high-ranking officer. Possibly a general or a commander, Connor guessed. The officer spoke to a female soldier clad in metal armour. She held a helmet under her arm. The senior officer didn’t appear to be listening to what she had to say. He had a stolid look on his face. His eyes veered off to the throng of soldiers on the ground. He then raised his head to the bridge. Their eyes met briefly, and then another solider came running up, stealing the senior officer’s attention.

  ‘Go back,’ said the Authoritative Voice.

  ‘Shut up,’ said Connor. There was no point going back now. He knew he would never find his way back to the compound and anyway he had been seen. He strode across the bridge and down the steps on the other side. By the time he reached the bottom, the senior officer and the other soldiers with whom he had been speaking were gone.

  He had to exert himself if he didn’t want to draw unwanted attention, not stand around looking scared and lost. He took a breath and approached a soldier with green-tinged hair and cheeks to match. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

  ‘The Telquorkhans and the Koracks have joined forces in Caradin,’ said the soldier, slapping the hand of a soldier riding a Varipod as they swept past. ‘More are coming in from the west coast.’

  Connor wondered if it was the reason Lin had not returned to the compound. Without giving it much thought, he followed the soldier into a lift just inside the door. Two more soldiers carrying laser guns joined them in the lift.

  As the lift doors squealed shut, Connor tried to figure out what he would do when they opened again.

  He didn’t have to wait long. The lift shot up and within seconds the door slid open and he stepped out. He had arrived in an armoury. Shelves and crates gleamed against the armoury’s dark walls. He saw racks of armour: chest plates, helmets, shin protectors and gloves. He glanced at shelves piled with a melee of weapons. Guns were among them and other strange looking ammunitions. He picked out a few Peltarck warriors in the soldiers who strode up and down, their eyes alert for battle. He glimpsed a number of scratched and battered droids with arms honed into weapons. They stood as tall as the Peltarcks.

  He walked around the floor’s outer perimeter. What had he got himself into? It was only a matter of time before he was discovered. He passed rows of metal doors. He saw a soldier coming out of one carrying a yellow crate. The door had not closed behind him. Connor ran inside. He thought since he was in the armoury it wouldn’t hurt to have at least one small weapon. He was dressed as a soldier of the Citizen fleet. There was no reason why he shouldn’t be armed like them as well. He didn’t expect the door to slam shut behind him.

  The door took the shape of an unassuming panel on the wall. He was locked in, but not for long. There were too many soldiers and droids around not to hear him hammering on the door. What was he going to say when they let him out?

  He had entered a storeroom. It had chipped metal walls. He saw pods stacked at the back of the room and discs suspended from racks on the ceiling. He jumped up to grab one. He felt an electric current race down his arm when he made contact with the rack. He whipped his hand away.

  He turned his attention to the steel pods. The majority were sealed tight. The ones that were open had nothing in them. He sighed. It was as if he’d gone back in time and ended up in another version of Narrigh, where a battle raged and ferocious beasts were never too far away. And once again he didn’t know how to protect himself or how to find his own way home.

  The door snapped open. Two figures wearing metallic armour and helmets strode in. They snatched a handful of the discs from the racks suspended from the ceiling, without getting an electric shock.

  Connor crouched low and watched them, certain they wouldn’t see him hidden in the shadows, surrounded by a sea
of pods.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said one.

  ‘Wait,’ said the other. ‘We’ve got a dodger.’ He started towards the pods. Connor shot to his feet, sending the pods tumbling in all directions.

  The armoured-man seized Connor by the shoulder and hit him hard across his head, making his ears ring.

  ‘Put him out,’ said one, his voice deep and raspy. ‘These youths need to be brought in line.’

  Connor winced as something sharp punctured his neck. It was the last thing he remembered.

  TWENTY-TWO

  As a new day dawned, Ted’s winning feeling had left him. In fact, the events of the last three days seemed like an outlandish nightmare. He tried to blot them from his mind. He had a sick feeling in his guts and a drumming in his head that no amount of aspirin would mollify. The phrase ‘dead man walking’ kept popping into his head. Funnily enough, it only popped into his head when he was actually out walking.

  The sun had made an appearance and a cool breeze circled the air. Ted strolled to the café on the corner of the road. He had plenty of coffee at home: the instant kind. What he desperately craved was a good espresso. He sat in the café window with his espresso and bacon and cheese toasted sandwich.

  He knew he was destined to work for Steve Lepton forever. If he ran, Steve would find him. Even if he journeyed to one of those ‘other worlds’, Steve would probably be waiting for him in his crisp suit and Tridan Entertainment tie. The virus was all he had left in his arsenal. He couldn’t take it off.

  Steve had left him a message on his phone. He had a job for him. A job! He didn’t want to do any jobs for Steve. His job would probably involve some gross criminal act beyond his inept blackmailing. Ted hoped it wasn’t murder. He would mess that up for sure.

  He had checked his bank account that morning. No money had gone into his account, not even his rightful wages. And all because he mentioned the virus. He should have saved that icing-on-the-cake until later. Steve would know by now that Luke wasn’t in Pyridian, or wherever the hell the game took you. And he would crush him.

  He bit into his toastie and downed his espresso shot in one. Luke hadn’t contacted him. He wondered if Steve had found a way to make Luke disappear. Permanently. He took out his phone. He had switched it off upon hearing Steve’s first message. He switched it back on. He had received a second message from Steve screaming into the handset, ‘Ted get your backside in here now. I’m not in the mood for your games.’

  Ironically, Steve had never complained about his games before.

  Ted shaved before he went to work. Indeed, he did a lot of things he wouldn’t ordinarily do before he left for the office. He put on some washing. He methodically ironed his clothes, made himself a packed lunch, polished his shoes and shampooed and conditioned his hair. Now that he had become Steve’s personal slave, he expected to do little or no coding from now on, and he was in no hurry to get to work.

  When Ted arrived at Tridan Entertainment, he went up to his temporary office, grabbing another espresso from the vending machine on the way. He closed the blinds and unplugged the phone from the wall socket. He sat in his chair and stared at the office door handle.

  He sat that way for a long time in a daze.

  When Steve barged through the door thirty minutes later, Ted didn’t jump.

  Steve had no tie on today and his hair looked like a shaggy wreck. ‘So this is how it’s going to be is it?’ he said.

  ‘Had a late night,’ murmured Ted, still staring at the door handle.

  ‘Do you think I care if you had a late night? It’s almost midday. You were supposed to report to me two hours ago. And this place stinks!’

  Ted broke out of his trance and looked Steve in the eye. ‘What do you want?’

  Steve gave him a measured look. It had been a while since he had seen Ted without a beard and an attitude. ‘I want you to follow Kane. I need to know what he’s up to.’

  ‘Why can’t you keep tabs on him?’ He guessed he should have been relieved that Steve didn’t want him to kill anyone. And he hadn’t mentioned Luke, which meant that he had been taken care of, or was taking care of himself by making himself scarce. But he found the request strange. He had assumed Steve and Kane were good friends. They took their lunch together, played golf together, went to meeting after meeting together and after work drinks. He knew Steve had it in for Luke. He never thought he was going after Kane as well.

  Steve pinched his forehead and closed his eyes. Ted watched them pop open again. They were red and weary like his own. The pressure was taking its toll on Steve, not nearly enough, thought Ted, otherwise he would have paid him.

  ‘Because I don’t have time to keep tabs on him.’ He handed him a card with an address on it. ‘Go there now. Get a cab.’

  Ted looked at the address on the card. ‘What am I supposed to do when I get there?’

  ‘Keep out of sight. Record everything you see and hear.’

  ‘And then I’ll get paid?’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about getting paid Ted. And don’t start ranting about your bloody virus. If you want to see money in your account, you’re going to have to work for it. I mean really work for it. You let Connor get hold of Luke’s laptop. Have you any idea what your mistake has cost us?’

  Ted didn’t but he was sure Steve would clue him in.

  ‘A missing child,’ said Steve.

  Ted frowned. Steve had some nerve. He wanted to make Luke disappear and he was a child wasn’t he?

  Nevertheless, Ted hadn’t thought about the implications of a missing child. Twenty-four hours had passed since Connor’s disappearance. It would be all over the news by now. All over social media. He thought about the boy’s mum. She’d be in a right state. He had made a real hash of things all right.

  ‘No amount of money is going to bring Connor back,’ said Steve. ‘The police will track his movements to here. They’ll ask the staff questions and check all the security camera footage. What do you think that will do to the company? What do you think they’ll do to you?’

  Give me a heart attack, thought Ted. The basement may not have had security cameras, but pretty much everywhere else did. Steve probably had some footage of him and Connor sauntering up the corridors, entering the lift to the basement − alone. He had never been in trouble with the police. Tears stung his eyes. If they questioned him, he’d crumble.

  ‘Stick to my script, Ted. I don’t want you to screw this up, and you won’t, not if you want to get paid.’

  TWENTY-THREE

  The Telquorkhans and the Koracks have gathered at Caradin on the other side of Baya Mountain, one-hundred miles west of Swordul city. They have united in a campaign to drive the last of the human species underground and destroy the dunes that clutter their rocky plain. Over three-thousand Citizen fleet soldiers have been deployed to Caradin to greet them…

  Connor woke up bleary-eyed. He rubbed the back of his sore head. He shrugged away the aching stiffness in his shoulders. He was locked in an airship’s cabin, imprisoned behind a door fixed with a metal wheel. He staggered up. He clutched the wheel in his hands and tried turning it. The wheel was either too stiff or too heavy. It wouldn’t shift. He banged on the door. The dense metal prevented his hammering from penetrating to the other side. Beyond it, he thought he heard an explosion and someone bellowing.

  Within seconds the wheel turned. The door screeched open. The soldier in the metallic armour, who had plucked him up like an ant from the floor of the armoury, waded in. His podgy face shone with sweat. ‘We don’t tolerate dodgers,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not a dodger.’ Connor felt the ship surge beneath him. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘Another one pleading ignorance. You’re on a fleet carrier under my command.’ He dragged Connor to his feet and took a tight grip on his right wrist, twisting it to read his palm. ‘I thought I’d better have another look. Make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Well that’s a turn up: a voluntary First Status cadet. If you weren’t trying to do a r
unner, I’d commend you. What’s the name of your House?’

  Connor rubbed his throbbing wrist. ‘Jones.’ Jones was Riley’s surname.

  The commander drummed his fingers on the bridge of his nose. ‘Don’t know a House Jones. And your first name?’

  ‘Duffy and I’m not a cadet,’ he added, keen to clear up any misunderstanding.

  The commander looked him up and down, a grin on his face. He used his thumb to flick a flap of fabric hanging off Connor’s uniform. ‘You’re wearing a cadet’s uniform, or what’s left of one.’ He took out an ID scanner and tapped it on Connor’s insignia. The scanner bleeped. He smacked the device against the palm of his hand and tried again. ‘Bit embarrassing you giving me a false name. Says here you’re Jemyr, House of Moss. Aged fourteen. Serving three months. Now I know a few Mosses.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘By the Maker’s Will, we’ll get some armour on you and get you back down there.’

  Connor felt a pang in his chest. ‘What?’

  ‘We need all the Citizens we can get out on the battlefield.’ The commander’s eyebrows dipped as he stared at the bleeping ID scanner. He banged it on his chest. The bleeping stopped.

  ‘Ba-battlefield,’ Connor stammered, ‘but I’m not a soldier.’ He backed into the wall, jumping when he made contact with the metal barrier. ‘I don’t know how to fight aliens.’

  The commander dropped the ID scanner into a storage pod set in the cabin wall. ‘You don’t fight them. You outwit them. And looking at the state of your uniform, you’ve already seen some action.’ He chuckled. ‘Don’t look so horrified. You won’t be going out alone. We’ve got our missiles in the air. Forces on the ground. I’m Commander Brett, House of Delsen. Just call me Brett.’ He shook Connor’s hand.

  He swayed as he grappled with Brett’s meaty grip. ‘I’m not part of the fleet,’ he said, his voice weak. His vision of going home started to slip away. If only he had done what Lin had asked and stayed in the compound.