Sea of Stars(41)

 Cyphon grasps me firmly by the elbow, pulling me toward the hovercar. “C’mon,” he says, not without sympathy, “it’ll be okay.”

 “You don’t know that!” I sneer at him. “I wish you’d help me!”

 He presses his hand to the back of my head, making sure I don’t bump it as he directs me into the backseat of the vehicle. Once inside, he makes me scoot over so that he can sit next to me while we wait for the fugitive transport to arrive.

 Kesek Alez turns his eyes on his men. “After we get rid of her, we’ll find an alternate route to station . . .”

 Whatever else Kesek Alez says doesn’t register with me. I have the worst feeling: as if I’m entering an ice storm. I exhale a breath; it curls up in front of me like wintry air. The future, I think, wanting to stave off any notion of it while at the same time ready to embrace it if it helps me out of this. I lean back against the seat, staring straight ahead of me at nothing at all—until a different movie of my life begins to play out . . .

 The Cavars are pacing back and forth outside the hovercar, anxious for the fugitive transport to arrive. One of them checks and rechecks his gun. He glances at Cyphon in the backseat next to me, “You got an extra D-Cell? Mine’s nearly gone.” He indicates his gun, pointing the barrel away from us.

 Cyphon speaks to him through the open window. “You’re supposed to keep your D-Cell charged, Ancil.”

 With a sullen expression, Ancil replies, “Yeah, I know! I guess I didn’t expect to get ambushed by the Alameeda today.” He looks past Cyphon to me, glowering as if I’m responsible for the attack. When his eyes shift back to Cyphon, he asks, “You gonna help me out or not?”

 Cyphon sighs heavily. He rummages around in a soldier’s gear pack at his feet. Locating a rectangular pronged case made of metal, he hands it out the window to the other soldier, who loads it into his gun. The gun makes a humming sound, like it’s powering up.

 Ancil begins to walk away, but Cyphon stops him. With a good-natured smile, Cyphon says, “Hey! Gimme the other one so I can charge it, ya jackwagon.”

 Ancil turns back around, handing him the other D-Cell. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

 “I notice everything,” he retorts with hubris.

 Behind us, I hear a noise that makes the hair on my arms stand on end. I turn my head and, looking through the back window, I watch as an E-One approaches us on the empty side over the divided guideway. The wasplike heli-vehicle flies next to the line of hover vehicles behind us. The forced-air engines raise dust in its wake. The mean, predatory form makes my insides churn.

 Unimpeded by the lack of traffic on the opposite side of the Beezway, the pilot of the E-One has no problem coming abreast of us. The craft lands with a decisive thunk on the guideway. The doors of the black beast open in a graceful sweep as floating steps descend from the interior of the craft.

 With his back to me, Kesek Alez walks toward the E-One to greet them. He waves his arms over his head nonaggressively, signaling to the fugitive apprehension squadron. A lone figure steps out onto the stairs of the E-One, attired in black combat armor. He raises a long-barreled weapon. Pressing a button, several silver darts fly from the gun in rapid-fire succession.

 The first dart embeds in Kesek Alez’s neck. When he pulls it out and looks at it, he drops it in horror. His body immediately swells up like puff pastry. He expands to three times his normal size before he explodes into a red vapor cloud while his blood and entrails paint the tunnel red.

 The other Cavars who are hit by the darts suffer a similar fate. Ancil tries to fire his weapon, but his bloated fingers no longer have dexterity, and then it’s too late; he becomes a Jackson Pollock all over the side of our hovercar.

 Kyon exits the craft, walking down the steps at an unhurried pace with several other Alameeda soldiers. While Kyon moves toward our hovercar, the Alameeda soldiers fan out to protect him, firing their weapons at anyone who looks their way.

 With a strangled cry, Cyphon bursts out of the seat next to me, hitching up his gun as he goes. Kyon lifts his arms and fires one shot, hitting Cyphon in the forehead, exploding his brains out the back of his head.

 I don’t move; I just remain where I am. When Kyon reaches the car, he bends down, extending his hand to me. “Take my hand before I throttle you,” he says. His blue eyes are as threatening as his words . . .

 I blink several times. My breath curls out in icy waves from my mouth. I didn’t leave my body . . . I just saw—