The Ascension: A Super Human Clash (25 page)

“Fire away.”

“It's not really a question so much, more an observation. You're the loneliest man in the universe, aren't you? Everyone you ever meet is going to die before you do. Back on the Carrier you told me to think of you as a force of nature. If that's so, then Mother Nature really has it in for you. And you told me to take the long view—that what you're planning will be better for the human race, in the end. But if you are
really
taking the long view, then nothing you do here matters. Nothing. You could sit on a rock for a billion years and get the same result. The human race won't last forever. Nothing does. No matter what happens, no matter what you do, in the end you'll be alone.”

 

“Housten's coming back,” Brandon called. “Someone get the hatch.”

Lance moved to the hatch and hit the control to open it. Suzanne Housten was floating outside, keeping pace with the craft. The sleeves of her black jacket and sweater had been shredded to ragged, flapping strips, revealing the mass of deep cuts and dark bruises on her arms. “Give me a hand, kid.”

Lance avoided catching her gaze as he reached out to grab Suzanne's arm. He hadn't wanted to see this woman again but had to admit that he was glad she'd made it.

Housten glared at Cord. “Raptor hit me point-blank. I was stunned, falling. But I saw you—you didn't come after me.”

“I couldn't save both you and Roz. I chose the one who hadn't been planning to kill me.”

“And
you
,” Housten said to Brandon, “when the Praetorians dropped back, you kept going. You should have waited for us!”

“Why don't you complain more?” Lance asked. “It's fun listening to you.”

“Enough!” Roz said. “Brandon, what's our ETA?”

“Forty-four minutes.”

“All right. You've been there?”

“Many times.” He looked up from the cockpit's screens. “They know we're coming.”

Housten said, “They'll shoot us down before we get anywhere near it.”

“I know a few tricks. I can get us pretty close. Certainly within walking distance.”

Cord sat down in the co-pilot's seat. “You sure about that?”

Brandon grinned. “Trust me.”

Then Lance asked, “Who are you?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

Ten-year-old Joshua answered: “He's Brandon. Max's pilot. You know that. Brandon Santamaría.”

Lance nodded briskly. “Yeah, yeah. But who are you
really
, Brandon?”

Roz began, “We don't have time for—” but Lance cut her off.

“This is important, Roz. When Max left the Shrike, he ordered Brandon to take me to the Citadel and stay with me at all times. I've seen Max doing that thing where he controls people's minds, and I'm pretty sure he was doing it then. But Brandon
didn't
stay with me. Which means he's able to resist Max's control.”

Brandon shrugged. “I think you're mistaken, Lance.”

“I'm not. You can resist him. And not only that, you can do it in such a way that he can't tell. He can read your mind and you're able to fool him. So you're not just a pilot, are you? You're one of them. A superhuman.”

“All right.” Brandon smiled and turned back to the controls. “You can do better than
that
, Lance. You've been touched by it too, you know. You
and
Cord. There are no truly normal humans on this craft.”

Lance felt the hairs on his arms start to rise, and he had to suppress a shudder.

“Suzanne, Roz, and I are pure superhumans. Joshua will get his powers in a couple of years. Lance, you and Cord are humans, but you've been changed. It doesn't happen often. Most people are completely immune to the energy that makes us superhuman. A few of us absorb that energy and can use it in a number of ways. Fewer still are altered by the energy but otherwise human.” He tapped a command sequence into the keyboard. “Cord, you must have wondered why you were different. A natural talent with machinery and electronics? Please. In school you were average at best, showed little aptitude for anything other than football. Yet somehow you can build a powerful motorized suit of armor, a jetpack, advanced weapons. Equipment that even the best military minds are struggling to understand.” Brandon turned back to face Cord. “You never wondered about that?”

“Of course I did,” Cord said.

“And your conclusions?”

“I never drew any.”

“Right.” Brandon looked at Lance. “You I don't know quite so well. Not yet. But I can see it in you, Lance. You have a gift for understanding people, for making them believe whatever you want them to believe. You're a natural con artist.” He smiled. “I've been working alongside Max for half a year and he never even suspected me. You had me figured out in a couple of hours.”

Lance noticed a slight movement to his left; Roz was clenching her fists, shifting her weight. She was getting ready to attack. On the other side of Roz, Suzanne Housten was doing the same.

“Wait,” Lance said. “He's on our side, I think.” To Brandon, he added, “Otherwise you'd have turned us in ages ago. So what's your game?”

Brandon stretched his arm out behind him and—without looking—entered another command sequence into the keyboard. “Why don't
you
tell them?”

Lance shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Use that gift of yours. Figure it out.”

“If you're on our side, then it stands to reason you're against Krodin. But you've obviously met him a few times, so why didn't you…? Ah. He's too powerful for you. You know you can't defeat him.”

“Go on.”

“Not on your own, anyway. But I can't imagine that you've been sitting around doing nothing. If you're really against him, you'll have been doing
something
to stop him. Or at least slow him down. But it'd have to be something that he'd never be able to trace to you…. And that's why you're working for Max, right? Krodin trusts Max, and Max thinks he can control you. You could get away with almost anything and Max would never have any reason to suspect you.”

Brandon spread his arms. “Bravo! And for an encore…? Anyone?”

Solomon Cord pushed his way between Lance and Roz. “It's you. You're the one who's been the constant thorn in Krodin's side…. You're Daedalus.”

“YOU APPEAR TO BE the intelligent one—comparatively, at least. Tell me about this other reality,” Krodin asked James. “Why do you seem to believe that it is so much better than this one?”

“Our time line doesn't have
you
in it.”

“You don't understand the nature of time, James.” He sighed. “I know you consider me some sort of barbarian, a man four-and-a-half millennia beyond his sell-by date, but it should be clear to you that's an inaccurate view. I have a perfect memory, and an unmatched ability to acquire knowledge. Cast your mind back to the battle at Windfield—a little over three weeks ago for you, but it has been almost six years for me—and you will recall that I mastered your language in a matter of hours. When I reappeared in that same location six years earlier—an empty field at the time—I did not, of course, understand exactly what had happened. All I knew then was what I perceived: that Pyrokine attacked me, then you and your friends disappeared, along with the power plant and all signs of the battle.”

James thought,
If Lance was here right now, he'd interrupt him with something clever.
But James couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. He knew Krodin wasn't going to allow any of them to live.

Krodin continued: “When I realized what had transpired, I understood that I was free. I didn't know how far back in time I had traveled, but then I read of a remarkable young man called Maxwell Dalton, and I knew that it had been only a few years. I sought out The Helotry—not an easy task even with my abilities—and then destroyed their entire organization. I appropriated their considerable wealth and made contact with Max. Together we formulated a plan to save the human race from its own greed and stupidity.”

“Yeah? Who's going to save it from
you
?”

Krodin sighed again. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the teleportation device. “You just can't grasp it, can you? You're so close-minded that you cannot begin to comprehend that my way is the right way.”

“You're taking away everyone's free will!”

Krodin looked at James as though he were stupid. “So what?”

“It's a basic human right.”

“Says who?”

“I…” James faltered and looked away. “It's not that simple.”

“Make it simple.”

“We are self-aware. We are sentient beings. No, more than that, we are
sapient
beings.”

“By your own standards, yes, but I'll allow that. Humans are sapient beings. Gifted with the ability to reason, judge, choose, understand, and create. Biologically we're all animals, but these traits set us apart from the other animals of Earth.”

“Right.”

“So…Back to my question. Who decided—or concluded—that free will is a basic human right?”

Abby said, “We did. We decided for ourselves.”

Krodin turned to her. “Hmm…Perhaps I should direct my future arguments to you, Abigail. Yes, that's a very good answer. Worthy of some consideration.” He glanced back at James. “But you…You're a disappointment. Max? Take him out to the landing pad, put him next to Brawn, and shoot them.”

Max Dalton stepped forward. “What?”

“You want me to repeat myself? Shoot them, and
keep
shooting them until they are unquestionably dead. And go no farther than the landing pad. Can't risk one of them making an escape and getting out of range of Casey's power-stripping toy, can we?”

“Don't do this!” Abby said, stepping in front of James. “You've won. You don't need to kill them!”

“But I want to.”

James realized that for the first time since he'd entered the room he wasn't afraid.
We did our best. There's nothing more we can do. If this is it…
“I have a few last requests.”

“Of course you do. What is it?”

“My mother and my sister. Don't harm them. Let them live in peace.”

Krodin nodded. “Request granted. You have my word on that. Your stepfather?”

James shrugged. “Him too, I suppose. But, y'know, maybe you can arrange to have him shipped off to the far side of the world or something?”

“I'll consider that.”

“And Abby lives. Whatever happens, she lives.”

“Now, that one I can't promise. It really is up to her. If you're fnished…? Max, take him.”

Max moved toward James and Abby threw herself at him, but Krodin was faster. He grabbed her arm and pulled her aside.

“It's all right, Abby,” James said. “I always knew we weren't going to get out alive.”

“Well,
I
didn't know that! I thought we had a chance! Don't accept this, James! Fight! Don't let them do it.”

Then Max said, “I'm sorry. None of us really has a choice here.” He and James looked at each other for a moment. “Let's go.”

They walked side by side out of the room, neither of them looking back.

In the corridor, the four soldiers James had earlier disabled had now recovered. They fell into step behind Max.

“So what's the plan?” James whispered.

Max didn't respond.

“Max?”

“There is no plan. I'm sorry, but this is where it ends for you. In the long run—”

“Don't,” James said. “Please. Don't embarrass yourself any further.”

Nothing more was said until they passed through the complex's main doors.

James saw Brawn sitting on the center of the octagonal landing pad, surrounded by seven armed Praetorian soldiers. The giant was slumped forward, covered in bullet wounds, each one enough to put a normal human out of action.

Brawn slowly raised his head and smiled as James and Max approached. “So how are we doing?”

“Not good,” James said. He left Max's side and walked over to stand by Brawn.

At the same time Max signaled to the soldiers guarding Brawn to fall back to the doorway.

“Oh man…” Brawn looked toward Max and the line of soldiers. “This better not be what it looks like.”

“It is.”

Max cleared his throat, and said, “James Percival Klaus, also known as Thunder. Brawn, real name unknown. On the direct order of Chancellor Krodin, you have been sentenced to immediate execution by—”

Brawn roared at him: “We get it! Shut
up
, Dalton! What, you think you have to say the words properly or we'll complain about wrongful execution?” He grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. “Now give us a minute, will you? I want to say good-bye to my friend here. Or have you completely lost all humanity?”

“You, uh, you have one minute.”

Brawn swayed slightly as he looked down at James. “This is for real?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. I knew from the start that hanging around with you guys was going to be trouble. So what happened? They teleported Dalton back here?”

“Yeah.” James nodded. “Should have seen that one coming.” He glanced back at Max, at the machine strapped to his wrist. “And now we're right in the middle of the eight-hundred-yard radius of the power-damper.”

“Eight hundred yards isn't that far. We could run.”

“We'd never make it.”

“We might. I'm still pretty strong. Way stronger than a human, even without my powers. Look at this: I've been shot, like, fifty times or something. Hurts like crazy but I'm still not dead. So we run and you stay in front of me.”

James shook his head. “Brawn, you can barely stand. We wouldn't get more than ten yards.”

“Time's up,” Max called. “Men, take aim.”

James winced at the sight of the Praetorian soldiers raising their guns to shoulder height.

“On my command,” Max said. “Three.”

Brawn put out his massive hand, and James shook it. “Percival, huh?”

“Wasn't my choice. What's your name?”

Max said, “Two.”

“I don't think that matters anymore,” Brawn said. “I'll never be him again.” He reached down and put his hands on James's shoulders. “How far did you say? Eight hundred yards?”

Max said, “One.”

“Yeah. Eight hundred. Far too late now, though.”

“Not for you,” Brawn said.

James felt Brawn's muscles tense.

Max shouted, “Fire!”

And moving faster than James could have thought possible, Brawn lifted him over his head, pulled back his arms, and threw him.

The landing pad erupted with gunfire.