Eko (NINE Series, #1), page 23
He paused. “And that woman Huma to protect them. I suspect that girl Sydel is still with her, too.”
Horrified, Phaira backed away, but Theron caught her arm. “It’s not what you think,” he told her. “I didn’t know she assaulted you, or took your friend away - ”
Phaira’s thoughts were spinning so violently, she couldn’t even wrench her arm free. How had this happened? How had she gotten caught in this?
“I know. The whole situation is out of control,” he confirmed under his breath. “But Keller is the oldest, the successor to my grandfather, so no one questions him. Xanto goes along to keep him under control. But Keller has the family’s backing, the funds, and the connections. I can’t stop them, even if I wanted to. But I think you can. And I’ve been trying to ensure that you have every resource to do so.”
“Why haven’t you joined them?” she choked out.
“I’m not like them,” Theron emphasized each word. “I just want to be left alone. To make my own life.”
“Well, I can’t…”
Then the words died on her lips. Of course she was going to try to rescue them all. What else would she do? Even if she died in the process, it didn’t matter.
Suddenly, his fingers slid off her arm. “I know where they are,” Theron said quietly. “I can forward the coordinates. I don’t know how much time there is. But I’m sorry. About your brother. And your friends.”
He sounded genuine enough. But Phaira didn’t want to look at him anymore.
So she unstrapped the longblade from her back and pushed it into his chest. When Theron’s hand closed around the casing, she ran.
As Phaira wove through the overgrown trees, turning up her collar against the wind, she fought a sudden, desperate yearning to go back. Foolish, irrational, undeserving: but undeniably there. Even in the wake of everything revealed.
Phaira brushed a pink petal off her shoulder and shook her head to loosen any remaining ones. She had room in her brain for only one complex question: how to take on a crime syndicate, save her brother and friends, and keep everyone alive.
IV.
“There’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Renzo repeated.
Anandi gestured at the topographic map, the small patch highlighted in blue. “It’s the Kings Canyon in the West. Desert, mountains; preserved historical space, so little development. There’s no access to satellites in that area, so I can’t see if there’s any activity within.” She glanced over to Phaira. “You’re certain that there’s an underground base there? Doesn’t seem likely.”
Phaira didn’t say anything. Could she really trust anything that Theron told her?
“So the only option is to go there, then,” Renzo said grimly. “And see for ourselves.”
“Is that wise?” Anandi protested.
“It’s the only clue we have. We have to do something.”
“And if you find the place? And the Savas?” Anandi pressed on. “What then?”
Renzo went to speak again, but Phaira interrupted. “I’m going to volunteer my services.”
“What? No, you’re not going to do that!” Renzo exclaimed, his hands gripping the head of the pilot’s seat.
“Ren, how else will we get inside?” Phaira argued. “The Savas want warm bodies, willing to pull a trigger on command. I have the skill set, they’ll see it right away. They’ll take me in.”
“You don’t know that,” Renzo pointed out. “You don’t know what they’d do. They might kill you as soon as you’re out of public view. Or ship you off for parts unknown. We don’t even know who these Savas are looking to hunt down. There’s nothing out there on that attack you mentioned, from twenty years ago or today.”
Phaira glanced to her left. “Emir? Help me out here.”
From the corner, Anandi’s father pulled on his white beard. “It’s risky,” he conceded. “But I agree with Phaira; something must be done, and quickly.”
He pushed himself up to standing. “Though she shouldn’t be the one to do this. I will volunteer. Phaira can be my shadow.”
“Are you crazy? Why would they trust you over her?” Renzo exclaimed. “Didn’t one of them kidnap you?”
“There’s history between the Savas and Ajyos,” Emir said. Phaira caught his quick glance at Anandi: a warning for her to remain silent. “Enough to give them pause, if I remind them of it.”
Anandi’s forehead creased with worry. “Papa, no. What if they lock you away? Your heart - ”
“Anandi,” Emir interrupted gently. “As Phaira said: the Savas need hands, and not just to kill. They need to conceal what they’re planning to do. Premeditated murder is still a crime. If I show up and I know about their scheme, if they believe their security is comprised, they’ll think twice, won’t they? Maybe even hire me to correct the issue. And then I can get Phaira inside. I sense she’s capable of a resolution. And it’s the least I can do to repay a debt.”
“There’s no debt,” Phaira said uneasily. “It’s not right to involve you, especially if you’re ill.”
“See, Papa,” Anandi broke in. “It’s not necessary.”
The older man walked to Anandi and placed his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “I choose to get involved,” he told her. “There’s a larger threat here, even if you can’t see it yet.”
Her eyes full of tears, Anandi buried her face into Emir’s arm. Then the two slipped out of the cockpit and into the Arazura’s gleaming corridor. Even as their voices faded away, Renzo continued to look after them, his face unreadable.
Finally, Renzo wandered over to the pilot’s seat, sitting down with a thump. Phaira placed her forearms on the chair headrest. For a long time, they were both silent.
“I’ll go too,” Renzo finally announced.
“Someone has to stay outside, Ren. If Emir can get me in, I’ll do whatever I can to protect Co. And Sydel, if she’s there too. Maybe there’s a way to sneak them out of there and you can come for us.”
“I can’t let you do this. There’s no way this will work. You’ll be killed.”
Probably, she thought. But I’d rather it be me than Cohen.
“Getting in doesn’t worry me as much as getting out,” Phaira said instead. “I can guess at the basic security measures in place: cameras, posted guards with orders to shoot to kill, but there’s no way to know until I see it.”
She paused, thinking. “But, Ren, if I can find them, if I can find a way out, you have to come as fast as you can. I don’t know when that would be, it’s so isolated out there; it could be just minutes of an opening.”
“I’ll be there when you need me,” Renzo cut her off. “This ship is faster than anything in public operation.”
He twisted to the right, so he could look Phaira in the eyes.
“No matter what,” he repeated. “I’ll be there.”
*
Sydel listened to the whispers infused in the walls: the wonder, the paranoia, the anguish. This underground palace crackled with ghosts. And try as she might, she could not block out the old voices.
“Sydel.” Huma’s smooth voice floated through the space. “May I come in?”
The florescent light made her hair brilliant and white, but it also cast shadows across her face, deepening the lines around her eyes. When the door closed with a click, the woman’s hand trailed down its frame.
“I feel it too, you know,” Huma murmured. “All the energy of the NINE, still here, still vibrant. This place is incredible. If you only removed yourself from isolation, we could uncover so much.”
Sydel shifted into the corner of the cell, and turned her back to the woman.
The hem of Huma’s robe brushed across the floor, closer and closer. When finally settled next to Sydel, tiny pops echoed through the space: her creaking joints. The older woman sighed, long and low. At the edge of Sydel’s peripheral vision, she could see Huma rubbing her bony hands together, again and again.
Why is she nervous? Sydel wondered bitterly.
“I think it’s time you knew what’s to come, Sydel,” Huma finally said. She leaned into Sydel’s line of vision; Huma’s eyes were red at the edges, even as her emerald irises were bright. “Do you know when my abilities were activated?”
“I don’t care.” Sydel enunciated each word.
“I wasn’t born with the gift,” Huma said, ignoring Sydel’s dismissal. “Not like you. I was a mother, a wife, a seamstress, just an ordinary citizen. Then, one night, I heard voices. I thought I was going mad. I could hear screams and shouts, but I was alone, no one near for miles. After an hour, it ended. I set it aside, and chalked it up to fatigue or dreams.
“But the next day, the world was inside my head: the thoughts and emotions of those around me, my husband, my family,” Huma continued. “From that night on, I sought to develop my gifts to the peak of their abilities. I transformed that night, and I wanted more. And I went from fearing evolution to embracing it wholly.”
Sydel lifted her head from her knees, wary but listening, as Huma went on. “For twenty-five years, I have been mastering my skills as an Eko, and then, remarkably, as a Nadi: reading, researching, traveling, experimenting, and at the same time, always wondering if there might be others like me.”
“Some weeks ago, I received a meeting request from Keller Sava and his cousins: a command, more than anything else. He heard of my wandering efforts. I was terrified what they might want from me. But I was blessed, Sydel, for I learned of the existence of the circle of NINE, and their emergence exactly twenty-five years ago.”
Huma’s eyes grew wide. “Do you see? These people triggered my gift. They brought me to life. And they are the ones that I belong with, the only ones worthy to teach me.”
“Are they?” Sydel said flatly. “You seem to get along with these syndicate men. How does one relate to the other?”
“Oh, foolish men and their lust for revenge,” Huma scoffed under her breath. “They think they will right a great injustice? If the NINE are as powerful as rumored, it will be a mercifully short event.”
“But the Savas are very powerful people, Sydel,” she added, “with unlimited funds and access to the world. So by aligning with them, I gained their trust, their financial backing, and the means to finally conduct a proper search for others like us.”
The volume of Huma’s voice dropped even more. “Yes, it’s true that my students have been diverting the family’s attention with the notion of infusing Nadi into their weapons cache. But I’m sure you know as well as I do: the further the Nadi is from its original source, the less potent. Those weapons will be useless when they are taken on the road.”
Sydel didn’t know that, and she cursed Yann for leaving her so ignorant. “So you are sending those men and women upstairs to death.”
“Their chosen path in life is killing, Sydel,” Huma corrected. “Their own deaths, while unfortunate, are not unexpected. Why do you think the Savas recruited them? They won’t be missed if something goes wrong.”
Suddenly Huma clasped Sydel’s hand, her fingers hot and strong. “There isn’t much time,” the woman whispered. “Very soon, one of the Savas will demand that you send out a distress call to the NINE. They know you can send telepathic messages far and wide, and they will force you to claim that you are an ancestor… ”
“Ancestor!” Sydel gasped.
But Huma kept whispering. “…and prod the NINE out of hiding. If you concede to their threats, they will take the first NINE to arrive and torture her, draw out the location of the others before they slowly dissect her flesh and desecrate it. Then the mercenaries will hunt down the rest of the NINE. And Cohen will be forced into service on pain of death. But you can stop this, Sydel. Together, we can - ”
Cohen, Sydel thought suddenly. Cohen should be here, if only to keep me from falling under her spell. I am already so tempted to believe…
Sydel yanked her hand away. “You lie. You twist words. I refuse to believe you.”
“I understand,” Huma said. She bowed her head, opening her palms to the ceiling. “Search my mind, Sydel. Verify that every word is true. I’ve already summoned Cohen Byrne as witness.”
“I don’t do that sort of thing,” Sydel snapped.
“It’s quite simple. Use the edge of your thumbnail to create an opening, and - ”
“I know how to do it,” Sydel interrupted. “But it’s a crime against - ”
The door to the cell burst open, making both women jump. It was Cohen, outfitted in black body armor, his hair freshly shorn, imposing as he loomed in the threshold.
“Cohen,” Huma greeted him.
Cohen’s face darkened in response. He leaned over to catch Sydel’s eye. “Are you okay?”
“Huma has offered up her mind for me,” Sydel said, still indignant. “To verify she tells the truth. She says she is on the side of good.”
Cohen’s features changed to a guarded, but sly expression. Sydel knew what he was thinking.
Now is our chance.
Maybe he was right. It would be easy. Cohen was stronger than the two women combined. He could restrain Huma, and Sydel could incapacitate her.
Or even more than that. She could paralyze the woman. Kill her. Control her. Sydel didn’t know why she was so certain of her capacity to do such a thing. But she could do it.
It would be easy.
*
As they walked across the desolate land, the sun blazing above them, Emir began to sing. His voice was a rich baritone, and resonated off the dunes: an old song, some lovers’ lament. Slowly, Phaira recalled the notes and lyrics, first in Emir’s rendition, then in her memories.
The singing in the house stopped when her mother got a sore shoulder. Just a strain, she told them all. But when forced to go see a doctor, they discovered cancer in her bones, fast-moving and incurable. She deteriorated so quickly. Cohen was only four years old, so twelve-year-old Phaira and thirteen-year-old Renzo worked to shelter him from the worst. They put him to bed and dressed him in the morning; they took him for walks and adventures in the city. He was always with one of them; it was probably why he turned out so well-adjusted.
But late at night, when her little brother slept, Phaira remembered her stolen glimpses of their mother in the last days, how their father carried her from the bed to the bath, how the skin stretched thin over her bones.
Every hour, Emir needed to rest, sweat beading on his forehead, perspiration spreading under his arms. Staying at a distance, Phaira wondered if the old man could last in this heat. But eventually he would get up and start to walk again, slower each time, but moving forward.
Time passed. The landscape grew rockier, the dull sand turning to red earth. Emir had to watch his step now, dodging large rocks and crevices. He never looked back. If he had, he might have caught a slight shimmer. But to anyone watching, Emir was alone in the desert.
Five hours earlier, Renzo and Phaira were in the Arazura’s common space, creating schematics, hypothesizing on what lay beneath the red sandstone range, the exact location of the coordinates that Theron provided. Mining her knowledge of government-run bases, Phaira laid out the probable design. An entrance somewhere at ground level, but also an emergency exit. Tunnels, ventilation shafts, perhaps some sort of aerial escape option….
“No,” Renzo countered, staring at her notes. “I bet it’s a designated no-fly zone. I bet the Savas have already thought of that. To keep the area clear. No witnesses.”
“It is,” Anandi chimed in from across the room. “Says it’s government-ordered, but who knows. Recently renewed to protect natural resources from contamination, whatever that means.”
“Okay, then,” Phaira murmured, a little surprised. “You’re good at this, Ren.”
Renzo grinned at her. Phaira chose not to tease him in that moment.
Then her brother jumped to his feet, scattering papers in all directions.
“What’s wrong?” Phaira cried.
Anandi and Emir turned in their chairs to watch Renzo rummage through a hidden floor compartment. When he rose, he held a crumpled ball of white material. With a few quick snaps, he shook it out: a wrinkled white bodysuit, complete with hood and mask.
Phaira made a face. “Are you that worried about contamination?”
“No.” Renzo tossed it to Phaira, who caught it and held it between two fingers. “Put it on,” he commanded.
“Why?”
“Do you have to argue with everything I say? Just do it.”
Huffing, Phaira slid the white suit over her clothes and tucked her hair under the hood. She looked ridiculous, and her belief was confirmed when she turned around to the sight of Renzo smirking, Anandi hiding a smile behind her hand, and Emir with the faintest look of bemusement on his face.
“Aren’t you adorable,” Renzo snickered. “But look. Watch this.”
He reached over and touched the narrow blue stripe on the inside of her wrist. Something shot through the bodysuit, stiffening the material. Then the fabric shifted from white to transparent, and Phaira with it.
“Whoa!” Anandi cried.
“Impressive,” Emir said.
“Incredible, more like,” Renzo nodded. “Just like she said.”
“Where did you get this?” Anandi inquired, her eyes popping with excitement.
“It’s a prototype, one of the scientists who helped with the Arazura? I guess she lost government funding for it halfway through the process. Anyway, I bought it from her and packed it away, I’d forgotten all about it.”
Bought it? Phaira thought as she deactivated the suit. She glanced around the Arazura, taking in all of the shiny new construction. She assumed Anandi’s friends had helped to fund its creation. But there wasn’t time to think about it now.
It might have been a prototype, but the stealth suit was solid and still charged after hours of walking across the desert. Under the suit, her body was coated with sweat, and her calves ached. But she could see the crest of the massive Kings canyon, brilliant orange under the sun, just like the satellite images. And to her left, there was the outline of a stone foundation, half worn away by wind and sand; some metal bars and piping; and a cellar dug into the ground, a black hole against the red landscape.
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