The Nexus Series: Books 1-3 (50 page)

19

SHE
sat up in bed and yet again replayed her video conversation with Anne Marie
Cole.  Then the more recent video message from Anne Marie Cole.

“He wanted me to
tell you that he’ll be contacting you soon.  I don’t know exactly when...”

She tossed her
mobile aside and willed herself to fall asleep.

Five hours later
felt like five minutes later.  She felt no more well rested than before
she’d closed her eyes.  She got dressed and left her room.

Jill had never
seen HQ so empty.  The wide grid of cubicles was an abandoned bee hive
with only a few lonely drones still buzzing around.  She circled the
balcony toward the empty cafeteria.

Not empty.
 
Dizzie
sat there in her PJs.  “Hey,
Jill.  Couldn’t sleep?”

“I set my alarm
for 4 a.m., actually.  I decided I should stay exhausted for our trip to
the Home Planet.  It keeps me alert.”

Dizzie
scratched her head.  “Really?”

“Of
course
I couldn’t sleep,
Diz
.”

“Oh. 
Right.  Me neither.  I keep thinking about the mission.”

“Yeah?” 
Jill wished that could be her excuse too.  She didn’t say it wasn’t.

“I just wish I
felt better prepared,”
Dizzie
went on.  “I know
I’m good at what I do.  I’m not trying to be hard on myself.  I just
don’t know if I’m up to this.  I tried to get Mandy to come, but she won’t
do it.  So we’ll have to find somebody else.”  She gave Jill a
significant look.

“I’ll talk to
him,
Diz
.”

“Really? 
You’d do that for me?  ’Cause I know you haven’t really talked to him for
a while, now, and I’m not sure why.  Not that it’s any of my
business.  I’m not asking for an explanation, or anything.  I just—”

“I’ll talk to
him.”

“Okay, you’re
the best!”

“
If
the
director says it’s okay,” Jill added.

“He will! 
Wow, I feel better already.  Maybe I’ll try to sleep some more.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. 
Walk back with me?”

“Why? 
Worried you’ll get mugged?”

Dizzie
rolled her eyes.  “I’m worried you’ll keel over
and be useless when we get to Earth.  You shouldn’t keep staying up all
night, you need your rest!”

“Okay, mother,
I’ll go back to bed.”

“Don’t call me
mother!  Well?  Are you coming?”

“Yes, mother.”

Dizzie
crossed her arms.  “Go to your room this
instant, young lady!”

Jill
laughed.  “Mandy’s right,
Diz
.  You
are
the glue that holds this team together.”

Minutes later,
they were both sound asleep.

THE
Climate Control Center, acting on the votes of the
Anterran
public, generated enough clouds to cloak MS9s
artificial atmosphere.  Earth was barely visible through the overcast
sky.  It was kind of nice, Jill thought.

She angled her
skybike
down a narrow side street through the blocky brick
apartments near the south rim.  An alley accessed a parking garage under
one of the largest and blockiest buildings.  She pulled into one of the
few empty spots, took the elevator to the eighth floor, and walked the dark
hallway to unit 828.

She had to knock
three times before she got a response.  The response was a gun protruding
from the barely cracked door.

“Geez, Jerry,
it’s me!”

The door opened
all the way, revealing a tall, pale young man with an afro and an attempt at a
beard.  “Sorry, Jillian.  I didn’t know.”

“Why didn’t you
just check the peephole?”

Jerry G bit his
lip.  “Didn’t think of it.”

“You’re
paranoid!”

“Yeah, aren’t
you?  Maybe you’ve heard that somebody’s sending assassins after everyone
associated with the department.”

“Just let me in,
okay?”

“Yeah, of
course.”

They stepped
inside the dark apartment.  Blankets hung over the windows.  Several
computers, old and new, sat around the cluttered room.  Their screens gave
the only light.

“Sorry again,
Jillian,” said Jerry G, flipping on a light.  “If you’d called ahead to
let me know you were coming...”

“I should have,”
Jill admitted, slumping onto the couch.  “I’m sorry too.  Seems like
we’re both a little on edge.”

“What’s eating
you, anyways?  You’re all wound up, girl!”

“Maybe you’ve
heard that someone’s sending assassins after everyone in the department.”

“Touché. 
Still, this isn’t like you.  You’re usually so unflappable!”

“Well, I guess
right now I’m pretty...flappable.”

Jerry sat on a
chair across from her.  “What’s really going on?  I know something’s
been wrong, and it’s not just everything that’s happened the last couple
days.  You haven’t visited me since Director Holiday set up this safe
house for me after the
RedEyez
incident.  You
haven’t even called or messaged, not once!”

“I know,” she
said regretfully.

“And now that
you finally showed up, I know it’s just business.  You need my help with
something, don’t you?”

Jill wished she
could disappear.  “Yeah.”

He shrugged. 
“I mean, hey, it’s cool.  I’m totally up for joining you, whatever’s going
on.  I just want to know what’s the deal with you.  When I first
helped you get into the department, and then you recruited me to help out over
there too, I guess I just thought we’d reclaimed our friendship.  Instead,
it’s like you’re even colder toward me than before.  Is it something I
said?”

Jill popped her
knuckles.  “Something you wrote,” she said.  “Actually, something
we
wrote.”

He stared
blankly at her.  “If you’re expecting me to know what you’re talking
about—”

“Our
initials.  Carved on the wall of that tree house we built when we were
kids.”

Jerry’s eyes
filled with recognition.  “Oh,
that.”

“Jerry, look, I
can’t tell you how happy I was to reconnect with you.  You’d been my best
friend in the universe.  You still are, really.”

“So why haven’t
you—?”  Jerry G stopped himself.  “Sorry.  Continue.”

She stumbled
on.  “I guess when we were kids we assumed we’d always be together, like
our friendship would be something...more.  It made sense at the time,
but...”

“But things
change when you grow up,” Jerry said with a sympathetic smile.  “Jillian,
is that all this is about?”  He gave a dismissive wave.  “So we
carved our initials on a wall when we were like ten years old.  So
what?  That doesn’t mean we owe each other anything.”

Jill’s entire
demeanor took in the relief.  “You mean it?”

“I mean it.”

“You weren’t
gonna
try to...?”

He shook his
head sheepishly.  “I’ve actually been pondering how to break it to
you.  I assumed if we were
gonna
be around each
other more, you had certain expectations about...
us.”

“I returned the
favor,” she said with a shrug.  “That’s what kept me from ever coming by
or calling you up.  Why didn’t we have this talk weeks ago?”

“It’s okay,
Jillian.  We’ve had it now.  That’s what matters.”

She looked
thoughtfully at the wall.  “There was one other thing, one other reason
I’ve been nervous about seeing you again.”

“Yeah?”

“You know me
better than I know myself, Jerry.  That’s always made me nervous. 
Maybe you make me confront myself in ways I don’t want to.”

“Once again, I
hope you’ll explain yourself a little further.”

“It was right
before the Dark Star job.  You were talking about when I was an
errander
.  You said...you said that just wasn’t me.”

“Well, it
wasn’t!  You didn’t end up in that world by choice, Jillian.”

“I didn’t end up
at The Nexus by choice either.”

“Wait, that’s
different!”

“I know it
is.  In a way.  But I’m only at the department—I’m only good at what
I do there—because of my
errander
days.  Is
this
really me?”

Jerry wrinkled
his brow.  “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m not sorry I
ended up at The Nexus.  It’s not that.  But I can’t help but
wonder...”

“What? 
What is it?”

“I had an out,
Jerry—the perfect chance to leave the department along with almost everyone
else, and I can’t shake this feeling that maybe I should’ve taken advantage of
the opportunity.”

Jerry sat back
in his chair.  “You’re serious?”

“Totally.”

He stroked his
sparse beard.  “Listen, Jillian, I don’t think it’s any accident that you
ended up with the department.  But that doesn’t mean you have to stay
there for the rest of your life.”

“Right.  It
sounds obvious when you say it like that.”

“But you’re
still there for now.  I don’t think that’s an accident either.  You
came here to tell me about a mission.  Apparently you need to be on that
mission.”

She nodded
thoughtfully.  “Maybe they still need me.”

“Or you still
need them.”

She’d never
thought of it that way.

“Speaking of the
mission…” Jerry prompted, leaning eagerly forward.

“You’ll think
it’s crazy.”

“When have you
ever come to me with something that wasn’t crazy?”

“When you hear
where we’re going, you’ll think it’s a new level of crazy.”

She was
right.  Not that it deterred Jerry G from offering his services.

THE
screen at the front of Conference Room D showed the mug of a somber man with
hollowed cheeks and thin lips.  “
Miroslov
Zykov
,” Holiday introduced him, “Chief of records, Moscow
Criminal Investigation Department.  Sources have confirmed that their most
classified information is kept on a number of closed networks in a variety of
locations.”  He smirked.  “The right hand truly doesn’t know what the
left hand is doing.”

“Wait, what?”
asked
Dizzie
.

Bradley stifled
a laugh.  Jill, in the front row next to him, stifled a laugh of her own.

“They’re good at
keeping secrets,” Jerry G whispered sideways to
Dizzie
.

“Even from each
other,” added Amber.

“Ah,” said
Dizzie
.

“Rumor has it,” the
director continued, “that the most confidential information of all is contained
in a database on
Zykov’s
personal computer in his
home.”

Bradley
frowned.  “Seems risky to keep that kind of stuff around the house.”

“Unless no one
knows where you live,” replied Holiday.  “
Zykov
has no personal address listed—not even on the department personnel database.”

Bradley
snorted.  “There’s no way his superiors don’t know where he lives.”

Amber frowned at
him.  “You want to just waltz into the department headquarters and ask
them?”

“Be sure and say
‘pretty please’,” Jerry muttered.

“My point,”
Bradley said defensively, “is that there has to be some way to find out where
this guy lives.”

“Maybe,”
Dizzie
admitted, “but then we have to find a way
inside.  I’m guessing it’ll take more than taking a sledge hammer to the
window to get into a criminal investigator’s secret house.”

“And we’re doing
all this based on a rumor?” Jerry asked the director anxiously.

“Correct,”
Holiday replied.  “And, to be fair, not a particularly substantiated
rumor.”

“Even if we find
a way into this guy’s house, we don’t know if the database will be there,”
observed Amber.

“Correct,” the
director said again.

“Or if that
database will actually lead us to the people who almost blew up HQ,” noted Jill.

“Correct.”

“
Or
,”
Bradley muttered, “if the people who almost blew up HQ will actually lead us to
whoever sent them.”

Corey
half-smiled.  “Let’s do this.”

THEY
made contact with Ambassador Park later that day.  She’d confirmed the
trip to Earth.  The journey would happen the following day.

Her “interns”
got ready. 

20

A
steady stream of shuttles traveled between Earth and MS9 each day.  The
majority were freighters.  The passenger vessels carried mostly businessmen,
along with a handful of tourists to or from
Anterra
. 
All of the above used the
Kichiro
Yamanashi Port, a
huge terminal/shopping mall several stories beneath street level.

A select few
VIPs were allowed access to the satellite via a private landing bay separate
from the Yamanashi port.  As chief diplomat from one of Earth’s most
powerful nations, Vera Park was one of those few.

Jill’s eyes
widened at the sight of the sleek, black craft, decorated with the stars and
stripes of the USA, parked in the center of the bay floor.  She and her
teammates wore official looking black with the United States’ seal embroidered
on the shoulders.  It was the authorized garb of the interns at
Anterra’s
American Embassy, one of the most coveted
entry-level government jobs the United States had to offer.

Ambassador Vera
Park was dressed in a similarly cut suit of navy blue.  She greeted the
team with a forced smile.  Behind the smile her resentment was
evident.  So was her fear.

“Nice shuttle,”
Bradley observed softly as they approached the impressive V-shaped craft.

“A
Kanemoto
Series 7,” Amber breathed.

“You and your
dad ever do a smuggling run in this kind of ship?” asked
Dizzie
.

Corey gave her a
look.  “
Diz
!”

Amber’s eyes
landed on a slight dent in the nose of the vessel, imperfectly repaired. 
“We may have done a run in
this
one,” she mused.

Holiday, in his
impeccable gray suit and hat, strode to the front of the group to greet the
ambassador.  “Our city thanks you for your assistance in this matter.”

She ignored his
extended hand.  “You mean for my forced cooperation.”

“Well. 
That’s how a cynic would put it.”

“Then call me a
cynic.  I’m only going along with this because I’m worried what you’d do
to me if I didn’t.”

“And your
worries are quite justified,” he said with a smile.  Before the ambassador
could respond, Holiday turned to his team.  “A word, before you depart.”

They followed
him into a waiting room off the bay and closed the door.

Director Holiday
regarded his team of six.  “You can’t know how proud I am of each one of
you,” he began with rare sentimentality.  “If only
Anterra
knew the sort of people they have looking out for their city.  If only
they could show you even the smallest token of thanks for all you’ve already
done, not to mention what you’re about to do.”  He sighed.  “But
there is no thanks.  No ceremony.  There is only another mission with
no glory or appreciation.  And yet I know you will undertake that mission
with valor, as always.”  He smiled, and his gray eyes gleamed.

One by one, each
of the six shook hands with the director as he wished them luck one last time
before they departed.

THEY
boarded via a mobile staircase that led up through the shuttle’s
underbelly.  Inside, another stairway led above the cockpit to the
cabin.  The dozen or so leather upholstered seats faced a bank of
windows.  For now the view was nothing but the door to the airlock. 
A hum filled the air as the vessel was pressurized for its journey through the
vacuous channel between the satellite and Earth.

“Please take
your seats,” Vera ordered stiffly.

They spread
across the front row.  Behind them stood the pilots and their small crew.

The chief
ambassador crossed to front of the cabin and faced them.  “Thank you for
being able to make this trip on such short notice.  My superiors would
like a face-to-face report regarding the recent events surrounding the late
Mayor Cole.  We’ll stay at the
Earthside
port
this evening and catch a direct flight to Washington in the morning.  Any
questions?”

Jill realized
Vera Park was already in character to convince the shuttle’s crew of the
validity of the trip.  Someone should ask a question to sell it.

Corey raised his
hand slightly.  “How many interns will be allowed in the meeting?”

“All of
you.  This will be an excellent opportunity for you to observe diplomacy
in action during a crisis.”

Bradley raised
his hand next.  “How does Washington believe relations between the U.S.
and
Anterra
will be affected by Mayor Cole’s
assassination?”

A corner of Mrs.
Park’s mouth twitched upward.  “Our government is more concerned about
this so-called ‘Guardian Angel’ incident which took place during the first
assassination attempt.  We’d like to discuss the implications of an
apparent underground vigilante movement manipulating the
Anterran
authorities and citizens.”

Bradley put his
hand down.  “I see.  Thank you.”

There were no
more questions.

The shuttle was
soon pressurized and the airlock prepared.  The exterior bay door slid slowly
open from bottom to top, a curtain opening to reveal the Home Planet beckoning
them from the distance.

The team glanced
at each other.

Hearts beat a
little faster.

They took
flight.  Through the bank of windows Earth’s continents, oceans, and
swirls of cloud were slowly, slowly getting closer.

Closer.

THE
city jutted up out of the endless green sea that was Africa’s Congolese
Rainforest.

It wasn’t
actually a city. It was the Richard A.
Gumbler
Dawn
of Humanity Memorial Port, the sole point on Earth where one journeyed to or
arrived from
Anterra
.  The collection of densely
forested hilltops had been crowned with beasts of modern architecture housing
hotels, spas, vendors, restaurants, and dozens of other commercial venues, all
connected by an elaborate tram system.

The most
prominent edifice was the slanted shuttle terminal, angling skyward high above
the surrounding structures.  The “leaning tower of Africa,” as it had
become known, was basically a stack of shuttle bays, with an overgrown air and
space traffic control tower in a bubble on top.

At the moment
the bubble’s personnel were guiding a certain black embassy shuttle to its
landing bay.

FOR
the first time in her life Jill stepped onto
Earthside
soil.

Soil being the
polished concrete floor of the bay, twenty-seven stories above the actual
ground.  Still, it was a significant moment.  But to stay in
character she and her fellow “interns” had to savor it on the inside, not
allowing any excitement or anxiety to show.  She glanced at
Dizzie
, who’d always dreamed of coming to Earth.  It
was taking obvious effort for her to suppress her smile and keep from jumping
up and down, but she managed.

There wasn’t
much to see yet, but Jill’s first impression of Earth was heavy and wet-feeling
air.  Her second impression, almost simultaneous with the first, was the
smell.  Something...vegetative.  Actually, a million things
vegetative, she realized.

“I’ll lead you
to our hotel,” Vera Park said as she strode toward the bay exit, heels clicking
and echoing importantly.

They took a
corridor to the lobby at the extreme end of this floor.  The wall of glass
at one end overlooked the endless rippling green sea of rainforest that
surrounded them.  Jill held her breath at the sight.  Down through
the angled pane of glass, the rest of the port was laid out like a map below
them.

“Amazing,”
Dizzie
breathed, leaning up against the glass like a
child.  “Do you realize how many individual species of plants and animals
live out there?”

“Why would we
know that?” whispered Bradley.

“Please keep
up,” Ambassador Park said impatiently.

They filed
across the lobby, dodging a fairly sizable crowd of other travelers.

The elevator
turned out to be a glass tube along the vertical stripe of windowed
lobbies.  As they rode down they had the feeling of sinking into the
forested hills.  The other surrounding structures of the port, along with
the connecting tram, rose to meet their gaze.

They exited
onto a broad plaza.  A roped off section near the bay tower was crowded
with semi-peaceful protesters, much like the ones who had gathered at
Anterra’s
centennial celebration.  The Dawn of
Humanity port, like
Anterra
itself, was officially
United Space Programs territory.  Jill saw several of the same signs she’d
seen being toted in the
Jann
-Birch Plaza.

In the center
of this plaza was a stories-high sculpture of a vaguely human looking shape
reaching longingly skyward.  On clear nights, looking from the proper
angle, you could see the distant spot of light in the sky that was
Anterra
hovering at the statue’s fingertips. 
Countless photos in travel brochures or magazines had captured the image.

They followed
Vera to the edge of the plaza, where they got in line to board the tram. 
Inside one of the many linked silver cars they piled into claustrophobic seats
just before the doors hummed shut and the tram lurched to a start.  Jill
got a window seat and took in the view.  The sky was heavy and gray over
the forest.  Almost instantly the ground dropped away below the
tracks.  Far below a narrow river twisted through the valley around which
the port had been built.

The view was
suddenly nothing more than the blur of a brick wall inches outside the
window.  The tram had shot into one of the collections of buildings that
skirted the port.  As soon as it stopped they got off and crossed the
cobbled courtyard.  Vera led them through the rotating doors of a swanky
looking hotel.

The lobby was
more like a garden—trees, raised flowerbeds, fountains and streams, with mood
lighting to boot.  Vera checked them in at the desk, and they got on the
elevator.  It opened on the eighth floor and they stepped out into a small
version of the ground floor lobby.  This indoor garden surrounded a koi
pond lit from beneath the water.  A bridge crossed the pond and reached
the hallway to the guest rooms.

Someone
appeared on the bridge in front of them, a square shaped man in a suit. 
He was armed.

Other armed men
in suits appeared around the dimly lit eighth floor lobby.  They formed a
loose circle around Vera Park and the team of six.

Vera narrowed
her eyes.  “What’s the meaning of this?”

The man on the
bridge stepped toward her, fingering his holstered weapon.  “I think you
know, Miss Ambassador.”

She crossed her
arms.  “I demand an explanation.”

“You’ll get one
later.  For now, all of you come with us.”

“Where are you
taking us?” Vera demanded.

“To your
rooms,” the square man answered levelly.  “We’ll be holding you there for
the time being.”  He looked past Vera toward Jill and the others, giving
them a brief nod.  “By the way:  Welcome to Earth.”