Escape (45 page)

The patroller was shaking his head. “The destinations and routes are preprogrammed. The traffic control computers know exactly where every tram is, how fast it's going, when it will get there, when it will stop
 
.
 
.
 
.
if any dangerous scenarios are going to arise, the computer will see them coming and make the necessary adjustments. And if the tracks are blocked, pressure sensors will detect that. If they're damaged, other sensors will report that and all the trams in the area will grind to a halt. The system is foolproof. We've never had an accident, and that's a lot more than can be said for autonomous transport systems.”

“These tracks run throughout the city?”

“Each level has its own tramways, and you need to use lift tubes to get from one level to the next, but yes. There are no user-operated vehicles in the city.”

“Very impressive,” Jilly marveled in spite of herself.

“Yes, yes, very interesting,” Ferrel added. “Take us to the nearest med center.”

The patroller shook his head. “I can't, sorry. Orders are to
—
”

“You
will
take us to the nearest med center.”

The patroller frowned, wondering what Ferrel didn't understand. Jilly grew uneasy, and the very air seemed to take on a hazy gray texture. There was something wrong with Ferrel's voice, like he wasn't going to take no for an answer. She worried briefly what he was going to do with that answer when he got it.

“Look, kid, it's like I told you
—
”

And that was the last thing he told to anyone. Simultaneously all twelve patrollers slumped where they stood or sat, falling to the floor of the tram with a loud clattering of armor and weapons. After the last weapon skid to a stop, an aching silence descended, and nothing but the continual hum of the tram's mag-lift engine dared to break it.

Chapter 25

“H
ow did you do that?” Jilly looked up quickly from the nearest patroller, her eyes coming to rest on Ferrel's manically grinning face.

“I imagined it, and it happened.”

“What do you mean
you imagined it and it happened?
”

Ferrel stepped
on
and over the bodies on his way to the front of the tram. Jilly watched him flex his wrists, snapping his restraints with an audible
plink
of over-fatigued alloy. She blinked. “How did you do that?” she repeated.

Able to read her thoughts, Ferrel knew she was talking about the retraints. “Try it. I think you'll find your restraints are of equally poor construction.”

Jilly flexed her own wrists, and she felt the alloy begin digging painfully into them. She thought she felt something give, and hoped it wasn't her. Heart pounding, she tried again, wrenching with all of her strength. The alloy snapped with another
plink
, and a piece of her restraints clattered to the floor. Half of the restraints still clung to one wrist, and she broke it free with another
plink.
“Incredible
 
.
 
.
 
.
” she whispered. She was so distracted by what she'd been able to do, that she heard Lystra snapping his own wrists free and didn't think to wonder how
he
was able to do that.

Ferrel reached the tram's control panel and spent a moment studying it before

A computerized voice interrupted their thoughts: “Destination changed to Tekasi Medical Center.”

Jilly bent to one knee beside the nearest patroller and unsealed the man's helmet. Working her fingers beneath the stiff neck seam in his armor, she checked for a pulse
 
.
 
.
 
.
and gasped. “Ferrel
 
.
 
.
 
.
this man is dead.”

Ferrel turned to her, his grin wider than ever. “I know.”

“You
know?
” She looked up from her examination, her eyes wide. “What did you do to them?” She stood up quickly, tears springing to her eyes, hands flinging wide to encompass the tram car and all twelve of the lifeless patrollers. “How is this even
possible?!
You can't
think
about killing someone and have them die!”

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched.

Lystra whispered into her ear: “This is not the end for them, but the beginning.”

Jilly whirled around. “How can you say that? They're dead! I don't care what you believe, you crazy Constantic monk! They're not transcending time and space to be with the Elementals: they're just dead!”

The old man's grin faded, and he bent down beside the patroller, touching the corpse lightly at the jugular. His hand remained there for a moment, and then he straightened and moved the next one, removing the patroller's helmet and doing the same.

Jilly looked on with a frown, supposing that the old man was performing some Constantic burial rite. Ferrel was also watching curiously.

A few minutes later, when the old man had touched the last patroller, he said, “It is as you say, but what I meant was that death is not the end. Not anymore. The same change that is flowing through your veins, is now rushing through theirs.” Lystra stood and faced Jilly squarely. “They cannot be killed so easily.”

Jilly wiped her tears impatiently from her cheeks and shook her head. “Kieran was.”

“Kieran?” Lystra cocked his head curiously, then his eyes lit with understanding, and he began nodding. “Yes
 
.
 
.
 
.
” The old man's eyes took on a faraway look, and he stared out the forward viewport of the tram. “He should be
 
.
 
.
 
.
” Jilly watched as the old man's eyes closed. “Yes, Kieran is alive now.”

Jilly fixed him with a stupefied look. “What are you talking about? He's dead! I watched him die!”

“He's right
.
 
.
 
.
 
.
” Ferrel interrupted, speaking softly. “If I concentrate, I can
 
.
 
.
 
.
hear
Kieran's thoughts.”

Jilly turned her look of stupefaction on Ferrel. His eyes were closed now, too, as if in meditation. “What?”

“He's
 
.
 
.
 
.
” Ferrel's eyes opened, and he looked amused. “He's coming for us. He thinks we tried to kill him.”

“What?” Jilly repeated.

Ferrel's eyes narrowed and settled on Lystra Deswin. “The question is, how can
you
know any of that? You aren't infected. If you were, we'd see it in your eyes.”

The old man regarded Ferrel steadily, and Ferrel stared back at him, trying to read Lystra's thoughts. Somehow he couldn't. It was as if there were no thoughts to read.

Ferrel frowned. He hadn't noticed that before. It had been easy to read Lystra's mind
 
.
 
.
 
.
at some point. Yet now that he thought about it, Ferrel realized that wasn't necessarily true. If it were, surely he would have read the old man's intention to betray and kill them shortly after they'd first met? And then there had been Segurion, whose thoughts had seemed to be shielded by the steady hum of a mantra. Ferrel realized that he knew too little about his newfound abilities to start guessing at their limitations, so he turned to look out the nearest viewport, absently regarding the urban scenery as they whirred through the city's streets.

Jilly's gaze was not so easily deterred. She was staring at Lystra with obvious suspicion.

The creature who wore Lystra's face had no trouble reading Ferrel's and Jilly's minds. He smiled, his wrinkly face wrinkling still more than usual as he plucked a likely explanation for his behavior from the possibilities swirling through their minds. “I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I meant that Kieran is alive in Etherica, with the Elementals, as Jilly suggested.”

They felt the tram go through a long, winding left turn, and then the car began to slow, and the computerized voice returned: “Your destination has been reached. Welcome to the Tekasi Medical Center.”

* * *

“An epidemic of unusual medical problems is being reported along the Frontier. To date, over 100,000 cases of unexplained collapse and memory loss have been reported to the Union Health Bureau. In most of these cases, people are collapsing in public areas and waking up hours or minutes later with no memory of what happened. So far no one knows what the cause could be, but here with us is Dr. Faltrop of Delshard Academy to provide a possible explanation. Dr. Faltrop, could you please explain your theory for our viewers?”

The holocam panned to a handsome man with a short growth of gray stubble and a thoroughly receded hairline. “The brain is a delicate organ. Suffer a blow to the head and suddenly you could lose a part of your day, or week, or even forget your own name.

“This is known as amnesia, and besides physical trauma, there are a lot of different diseases which might cause it. Since so many people have been affected, over such a short time, and such a large area of civilized space, we have to suspect a contagion, but so far none has been found.”

The camera zoomed out to show both the doctor and his interviewer. “And why do you think that is, Mr. Faltrop?”

“I believe what we're actually looking at isn't bacterial or viral infection, but rather a form of mind control. We've all heard the rumors. The Union has perfected telepathic technologies, devices which can read your thoughts from a distance. It would be a trivial matter to then use the same devices to create thoughts or suggestions in a susceptible mind, which we would then mistake for our own. What we are percieving now is the Union's first large-scale tests of such technology. They send a subliminal impulse: go to sleep, and when you wake up, you won't remember anything, particularly this suggestion.” The doctor snapped his fingers. “And bang. There just happen to be more than 100,000 people along the Frontier whose minds are tired enough and suggestible enough for it to work. The premise is similar to hypnosis, which requires the individual's cooperation to work, but mind control technologies are even more insidious, after all who would object to cooperating with their own mind?”

“I'm going to stop you there, Doctor. While this technology is rumored to exist, we're also aware that these mind-reading devices require cybernetic implants to function. An unaltered mind is fundamentally unreadable.”

“Those were the early days, my dear. You can't limit top-secret psi-tech development to what is
currently
known about it. Mark my words, our dear Imperator is even now thinking of how he can subtly press, prod, and badger us into greater submission, using our own minds for his bludgeon. His gracious majesty is not above using such methods for the so-called ‘greater good.’ And he's certainly not the infallible ruler he claims to be. If you don't believe that, just look at what he did when
—
” The doctor's lips kept moving, but the audio dissapeared, and the camera panned and zoomed to the interviewer.

She smiled hesitantly at the camera. “Well, that's an interesting theory. When we come back, you'll hear about another new medical disorder with cases on the rise: iris discoloration. Have you ever stayed up all night and noticed that the whites of your eyes were red in the morning? What if you noticed instead that the colored part had turned red? We'll have more on this after the break.”

Dreklaus Chevari, Imperator, and absolute ruler of the Union turned the holoscreen off with a wave of his hand, and stood up from his Formicare couch. No one had even begun to guess what was really happening. Perhaps because every doctor who actually came to a proper diagnosis would collapse unconscious to the floor before he could possibly utter the words.

It was only a matter of time before they realized of course, but by then it would be far too late. The imperator smiled, his lips speading into a broad, toothy grin. They would achieve their directives, and the foul weaknesses of humanity would finally be purged from the galaxy.

* * *

The tram came to a stop, and its computerized voice announced cheerily: “Have a pleasant evening!”

“Thank you
—
I'm sure I will,” Ferrel muttered.

“Someone had better explain what's going on here,” Jilly said, her eyes on Ferrel. “What do you mean Kieran is coming for us?