Through a Mirror, Darkly Page 7

  “Whatever resources your team needs are at your disposal. Just make it happen.” Smalls’ voice rose to a crescendo, threatening to break.

  “How sure are we that these are Humans you’re hearing?” someone asked O’Dell, and Denton found himself unwillingly interested in the answer.

  “Very sure,” Smalls confirmed before she could speak.

  Harlan Bransworth, who oversaw the Agricultural dome, looked somewhat hopeful. “You know we’re not doing well as far as food goes, Edwin. If there are other Humans out there, we need to make contact. Maybe they can help us out. Anything would be welcome at this point.”

  “They already know we’re here,” Smalls replied.

  “What?” Boggs looked as if he’d been slapped. “I don’t understand.”

  “They, whoever they are, sent some kind of ship here, around the time when the Elves left. The ship is gone, but the crash site remains. In D6.”

  The room exploded with sound for a second time, but Boggs’ outraged voice rang out above the others.

  “You knew there were people out there and you didn’t think I would want to know about it?”

  “We’d intended on informing everyone, Nelson—”

  The younger man slammed his fist down on the table, and the room went silent. Denton had seen the little man pitch plenty of fits in the past, but the rage he exuded now was palpable.

  “How many others know about this?”

  Smalls looked Boggs up and down, perhaps sizing up how much of a threat he posed in his current, unstable state.

  “Myself,” he spoke carefully, as though Boggs were a bomb that needed to be diffused with great caution. “Sylvia, Ben...and a few other members of the Maintenance department.”

  “Ben?” Boggs whirled on his friend, who cowered in his chair with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, cringing.

  “They made me promise not to tell.”

  Boggs had gone red in the face now, the vein in his neck throbbing. “I thought you were supposed to be my friend!”

  “Don’t be a child, Nelson. Of course I’m your friend! But I’m also a part of leadership now. I have responsibilities, too. They told me not to say anything, so I didn’t.”

  Parker looked both surprised and hurt at Boggs’ reaction. It was Sylvia who stood up and tried to diffuse the situation.

  “What matters is that they know we’re here, but they’ve made no attempt to contact us. We have to assume, at this point, that they either have no interest in us, or that they are actively working against us. Whichever it is, we are on our own, and we need to be prepared.”

  “We would be more prepared if you’d used every resource at your disposal,” Boggs managed to say through gritted teeth. He looked at Denton, who stared back at him, mildly amused. If nothing else, at least this meeting wasn’t as boring as usual.

  With a huff, Boggs sat down. He was chewing on his lower lip, as if he had more to say, but seemed intent on giving them the silent treatment instead. It was a few long, awkward moments before anyone spoke again.

  “I think perhaps that’s enough for tonight. Let’s bring this to a close,” Smalls said with an air of resignation.

  “‘Bout time,” Denton grumbled, getting to his feet. The others rose, talking amongst themselves, making plans and sharing ideas.

  Denton, on the other hand, made a beeline for the exit, eager to escape the stuffy room and all the stuffy occupants it held.

  Back in the lobby, he paused beside the small plaque that stood in the center of the walkway.

  One hundred and seven names were engraved in small, clear letters, beneath the words “Reclamation Day Victims.” It listed every Human life that had been lost during the Anniversary celebrations. Edwin and his groupies had declared the day to be henceforth known as “Reclamation Day” to celebrate their liberation from the Elves.

  Percy’s name was here somewhere. He’d died in Geo, on the mission to rescue Parker. Denton had never bothered to find it, though. Memorials weren’t really his thing.

  The whole thing was stupid, a political ploy to turn a terrible memory into something worth honoring. Denton thought maybe the leadership was hoping that, in the future, people would see this plaque and imagine that these names had been brave soldiers who had fought against the Elves and died. But the truth was, most of them had been killed by fellow Humans. A few Elves had been left behind, sure, and they’d done their fair share of damage.

  But those Elves hadn’t been enough to quell the bloodlust of the crowds. A century’s worth of pent-up rage had flowed through the streets that night, and well into the days that followed.

  Denton sneered down at the little plaque. A great way to start our new lives, he thought. With a lie, engraved in fancy letters, placed at the heart of our new establishment.

  Denton tore his gaze away and headed for home.

  ***

  It had been three days since their last Council meeting, and though Smalls had cornered him in the hall yesterday to confirm that everything was going smoothly with his enlarged team, Denton was enjoying a rare, politic-free morning.

  He was strolling the halls of Sigil, thinking about lunch, when his comm went off. His mood soured, and he scowled at a passing young woman who shrank toward the wall and scurried past.

  “What is it?”

  It was Boggs. “Where are you?” the younger man nagged, his irritation evident. “You were supposed to arrive early!”

  Denton stopped walking.

  “What are you talking about? Arrive early where?” His stomach churned. Another meeting, perhaps? Would it never end?

  “Unbelievable,” Boggs said in amazement. “Listen, I have to go, I’ve let them in. Just get up to Core Operations and keep an eye on them!”

  Denton turned around, heading back the way he had come. He tried to think of what Boggs had meant, but he was coming up empty. Core Operations...hmm. Just who was he supposed to be keeping an eye on?

  As he approached the central room he saw Sylvia standing with her back to him, arms crossed. She turned at the sound of his approach, and her posture relaxed somewhat, though her face remained stern.

  “Where have you been?” she snapped with that vicious, haughty tone of hers. “We got here fifteen minutes ago. It’s supposed to be a guided tour, and now they’re all just wandering around.”

  “You wanted...me...to give a guided tour of Core Operations?”

  “No, of course not! We were touring all of Sigil. And Nelson was in charge, but Edwin insisted on having Security present, at least in our most sensitive departments. For crying out loud, Denton, weren’t you even listening at the meeting?” She huffed. “Well, anyway, Nelson got called away, and they got bored waiting for you.” She gestured to a dozen or so people who were wandering aimlessly about the room, trailing their hands along the rails or staring at various control panels at which nervous operators worked, glancing up once in a while at the curious newcomers.

  “Who are they?” Denton looked the motley assortment over with an air of disdain.

  “Some of my patients,” said Sylvia, her tone softening. “Some of the worst of them. They’ve been cooped up so long, I thought it might be nice to show them around, show them what we’ve done with the place, you know? Get them up and moving a bit.”

  Denton watched as one man, leaning on a cane, head swaddled in bandages, approached a bank of monitors and sat down to rest.

  “You needed Security to watch a bunch of cripples and invalids?”

  “Not really. But, you know, we are working on some pretty important stuff. Edwin just wanted us to have an escort, to make sure no one wandered off somewhere they shouldn’t. These people have been through a lot. Some of them...get confused. Easily upset.”

  Denton snorted. “So, you’ve got a bunch of disturbed people walking around our main control center while Smalls is trying to play at cloak and daggers,” he scoffed. “We’re doing a real great job so far, doing things different than the Elves.” />
  Sylvia frowned and opened her mouth, about to say something, but at that moment Smalls and Boggs came rushing into the room. Smalls’ cheeks were flushed and the rest of his face had gone pale.

  Smalls stopped short, looking around.

  “Sweet Evenmire,” he breathed. “Sylvia, Denton, get these people out of here.”

  Boggs grabbed the nearest patient by the shoulder and gave her an unceremonious shove toward the door.

  “What?” Sylvia said, startled. “But why?”

  She got no answer, and Denton started to raise his arms to corral the patients toward the exit. But when he realized where Smalls was heading, he paused.

  “What’s going on?”

  Smalls cringed and, after a slight hesitation, waved him over.

  “We have a situation.”

  He spoke under his breath, hunched over the controls for the gun turrets. Another man rushed over and slid into the seat, taking over. Smalls backed away. “Get ready.”

  “What kind of situation?”

  “They’re coming.”

  Boggs had just trotted over to join them.

  “Denton, we don’t want an audience for this,” Boggs reiterated forcefully.

  “Okay,” Denton demanded to the room at large. “You heard the man. Tour’s over. We’ve got a situation.”

  The room erupted in an excited buzzing. The station operators paused in their work and the patients who had been moving toward the door ceased their progress to join in.

  “Nice going,” Smalls said, cursing. “Never mind. There’s no time. Just stay out of the way.”

  Denton felt a surge of anger roar up into his chest. This was a Security matter. These were his turrets. Built by his nerds. Did Smalls honestly just tell him to stay out of the way?

  “Now you listen here,” Denton growled, but his voice was drowned out by Boggs, who was now barking orders.

  “I want the main viewer on, now! Come on, come on!”

  This screen, six feet across and four feet high, had been installed and patched in to the Observatory so that any of the cameras there could be projected on to it. “Meagan, scroll through for me again.”

  Pictures of icy landscapes slid by in a silent procession. “Stop! Give me D6 again. No, the other angle. There! Stop.”

  Denton squinted at the screen, along with everyone else. In the far distance, there was something glinting in the light of the setting sun. It grew steadily larger, but it was still much too distant to make out.

  “Can we zoom in?” Boggs asked through his comm, then cursed, not pleased with the answer. He looked around the room. “Sylvia, why are these people still here?”

  Sylvia, who had been standing transfixed, seemed to regain her senses and started to herd several patients toward the door. None of the others made a move to leave.

  “Denton!” Boggs said sternly.

  Denton shook his head. “I’m not leaving. These are my turrets. You want them out, take care of it yourself. I want to see the looks on those smug Elven faces when we start mowing them down.”

  Boggs looked both confused and annoyed. “What are you talking about? The Elves aren’t coming.”

  “But Smalls said—”

  “They’re approaching fast,” one of the men at the turret controls interrupted.

  “We can see that!” Boggs snapped. “But we can’t do anything until they’re within range. Damn, I wish we’d thought to put turrets on the outside of the domes sooner!”

  He glared at Smalls with an accusatory expression.

  “Prepare to lock on,” Smalls said, his voice cool. He leaned toward Boggs, and Denton heard him say something about keeping calm.

  “I am calm!” Boggs protested in a high-pitched voice.

  The speck on the screen had grown much larger now. Denton had never seen anything like it. It was shaped almost like an elongated egg, contraptions whirring and flapping along its shell, leaving a trail of white behind it as it soared closer and closer. Large, circular headlamps gave it the appearance of a strange, mechanical insect.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Denton asked, and Smalls spared a pitying glance in his direction.

  “All I can say is, we’ve picked up a few more communications over the radio. We think it’s an envoy sent to treat with the Therans. We’re not going to let that happen.”

  Denton felt his eyes go wide, the familiar emotions burning in his stomach. He looked at the screen again, and the object was much closer now, but still difficult to make out on the monitor. “Who are these guys?”

  “Are we ready to fire?” Smalls demanded of the man at the control panel, ignoring Denton’s inquiry.

  “Yes, sir.” He was fiddling with some of the fancy controls. “As soon as they’re in range.”

  Suddenly, the object on the screen turned, and Denton and the others could make out the profile of the small, bullet-shaped ship. It was a silvery blur as it disappeared out of camera view up and over the dome. The screen blinked, and a new angle showed the ship from behind.

  “What if they’re friendly?” Sylvia asked as she hurried over to Smalls’ side, squeezing his arm.

  “We can’t take the risk. We can’t let them get through the Gate.” Smalls gave a little nod to the man at the controls. “Fire at will.”

  “No!”

  The voice came from beside Smalls, where one of the patients had quietly made his way up alongside them. In the commotion, no one had noticed his presence, but now the man flung himself forward, his cane sailing toward the operator, who ducked, covering his head and cowering in his seat. Smalls stepped forward and grabbed at the man, who threw him off in a rage.

  “Fire! Do it now!” ordered Boggs, and the operator sat up, his hand darting toward the panel to press one of the controls even as the cane approached for another wild swing. Sylvia raced forward.

  “Don’t hurt him!” she cried out, “He’s disoriented, he didn’t mean—”

  His cane came down once, twice, three times against the control panel, shattering the glass and exposing wires. He kept wailing on it as Sylvia tried to drag him back, and seconds later Denton managed to shake off his own shock at the situation and surged forward.

  He grasped the man from behind, clamping his scrawny arms against his sides and heaving him bodily away from the panel. The man was still shouting incoherent ramblings as Denton dragged him toward the exit, clawing at him with both hands.

  “Did we get them?” Boggs was asking.

  “I think so, sir,” the operator said, appearing ashen-faced and shaken.

  Smalls, who had been knocked onto his backside, stood up.

  “What happened?” he asked, rubbing his behind. “I didn’t see.”

  “Unsure, sir. They made it through the Gate.”

  “Damn!”

  Smalls looked around. He spotted Denton, still holding the patient who struggled uselessly against his grip. “You did this,” he snarled. “You just destroyed the only thing New Sanctuary has to defend itself with. I hope you’re happy now.”

  He turned on Sylvia next, who looked flustered and upset. “Get him out of here. No, get him out of Sigil. I don’t want to see him anywhere near this place, ever again.”

  “But—”

  “Now, Sylvia!”

  Smalls turned back toward Boggs, surveying the damage to the control panel. “We need this fixed. We don’t know when they’ll come back through or how many Elves they’ll bring with them.”

  Denton felt the man relax in his grip and cautiously released him, intending on knocking him senseless if necessary. Sylvia grasped the man by the shoulders and looked into his bandaged face. She whispered to him as she led him away.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I’m sorry,” Denton heard the man mutter. “I’m sorry.”

  He watched them go then turned back toward the view screen, where he found Smalls and Boggs staring coldly in his direction.

  “Don’t look at me,” Denton started defensiv
ely, but Smalls cut him off.

  “This wouldn’t have happened if you had been doing your job!”

  “It wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t let a bunch of random, unstable lunatics into the control room!”

  “You were supposed to be watching them! I said to get them out!”

  For once, Boggs seemed to be the one with a cool head. “What’s done is done,” he said. “Now we have to deal with the consequences.”

  All three of them turned to the view screen where two long streaks of mounded snow were the only evidence that the strange craft had ever been there at all. Antiquity’s Gate stood solemnly, offering no indication that any of the last few minutes had transpired. The room was tense, as if everyone there were holding their breath, waiting to see if anything came back through.

  “I think we got them,” Boggs said in a choked whisper.

  “I’m not so sure,” Smalls replied, “but I have a feeling that we’re going to find out, one way or the other.”

  Five

  An Elf by Any Other Name

  FROM somewhere in the darkness, Felix heard whistling. Then a moan.

  “When did they install gun turrets?” groaned Tobias. “We’ve only been gone six months!”

  Felix sat up, his head pounding. He struggled to see, but an inky blackness filled the cabin.

  “Is everyone okay?” he called.

  Ambrose gave a grunt of affirmation, then a gasp.

  “Penelope? Penelope!” Felix heard the sound of scuffling as Ambrose fought with his buckles and felt his heart race faster.

  “Oh, thank heavens!” Ambrose sobbed, and Felix let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.

  “Penelope’s been knocked out, but she’s breathing. I don’t think she’s bleeding.”

  “Wilks?” Felix called, groping around in the thick blackness. There was no answer. “Wilks?” The poor man was likely unconscious, too. “So much for a softer landing this time,” Felix complained. “Isn’t there supposed to be emergency lighting in this tin can?”

  “I’m working on it.” There was the sound of crawling, some murmuring, then a crash. “Sorry! My fault, entirely,” Tobias apologized to no one in particular.