The Cleanway Read online

  “We’re stuck. Any ideas, ladies?” I said.

  Standing in the space between seats at my back, Rebecca put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t push. We’ll never get out that way.”

  Beside me, Elizabeth shook her head. “What can we do, then?” She braced one foot against the seat and turned her shoulder toward the crowd.

  “Give me a second,” said Rebecca. “This isn’t going to be easy, but it is pretty simple. Jeth, don’t go anywhere with your mind, alright?”

  An elbow jutted from the crowd. It hit me in the stomach. I grunted as the wind went out of me, so I did not get the chance to assent to Rebecca’s plan. Her fingers tightened on my shoulder. Her mental presence suddenly became blazing hot behind me. I staggered forward. I found empty space in front of me. To my surprise, the crowd shrank back as if terrified of touching me. I headed for the open doors of the train car. Rebecca kept her hand on my shoulder. Elizabeth and Max followed us closely.

  Impossibly, I stepped onto the platform. A handful of people cowered between me and the approaching cleans like they did not know which of us to fear more. Rebecca used my presence as a prop to terrify these people, probably projecting some kind of illusion from me. Ingenious, if not the kindest way to make a gap in the crowd.

  She released my shoulder. “Thanks. You make a good bogeyman.”

  “Thanks. I guess.”

  She flashed a bright smile at me from under dark lashes. “It is a compliment.”

  The cleans had stopped a few yards ahead of us. Elizabeth pointed over the thin row of mindless people in street sweepers’ uniforms. They looked wary to me, though they should have no emotions beyond the simplest feelings and fears thanks to the removal of their memories. I followed Elizabeth’s gesture.

  Thomas stood back to back with a woman in a hood. Cleans lay sprawled around them, many stunned, a few unconscious. Thomas was sweating. There was blood on his face and his beard. Both he and the woman moved cautiously as they looked around, hands up like boxers at the start of a new round. Her gloves were torn along the knuckles.

  A single figure stood just inside the turnstile nearest them. I could tell right away this man was not clean.

  My brother Luke could spot a liar a mile away, or so he liked to tell me when he sent messages from the western city where he lived. I imagined he would have immediately known how to handle the figure in the jacket, carrying the hollow steel rod like a promise of pain. His jacket was black, and his beard long and brown. His eyes were ice blue. The man marched toward Thomas and the woman wearing the mask.

  As he approached, another group of cleans emerged from either side of the station. They ran toward Thomas and the woman. She lashed out and took down the first one to get close. More cleans rushed on.

  Max grabbed my wrist. “We have to help them!”

  “We’ll find a way,” I said.

  With eight cleans forming a line between us and the fray, I did not know how we would get through. Something told me they wouldn’t just let us past. I gritted my teeth in frustration.

  Thomas gave a clean grabbing at his arm a hard right in the jaw. An audible crack reverberated through the station. The mindless man went down without a sound.

  The man in black stepped over the supine form of the clean Thomas had just dropped. He lashed out with the metal rod. The blow hit Thomas in the stomach. My friend doubled over. I composed a poison packet of dead information to slow the man in black, even as he raised the rod for another blow. I was too slow.

  The man in black gave a wild yell. The rod whistled toward Thomas’ head. I scrambled to disrupt the man’s thoughts, senses, anything, but couldn’t break through his defenses. The woman in the back caught the blow hard on her shoulder. She staggered without a sound, and I could see by how one arm dropped to her side. The hit had done some real damage.

  I clawed mentally at the defenses of the man in black, howling in anger without knowing who this attacker was, or how he had control of all these cleans. For that moment, all I cared about was stopping him from swinging again. I punched through his membrane of outer defenses, and dropped my payload of chaotic and useless information into the center of the man’s mind.

  He hesitated in mid-swing, then took two steps back from Thomas and the woman. The cleans around the station backed away from the people they had been menacing. The man gripped the steel rod, then turned and ran out the exit without a word. I stared after him as the street sweepers and other cleans under the man’s influence fled the station.

  I ran to Thomas’ side. He turned and looked at me sweat dripping into his eyes. “I’m too old for this shit,” he said.

  The woman in the mask and the hood sank to the ground, clasping her limp arm to her side. Elizabeth reached her just in time to support her as she slumped onto her side. Rebecca looked around at the fallen cleans, abject horror written on her features.

  “What have they done?” she murmured.

  I did not have time to ask her what she meant. In seconds, a team of public security officers pushed into the station. They started rounding up people and asking questions. I had a feeling we’d be there for a while, but I didn’t have any answers for them.

  As officers moved through the train station, I moved over to Elizabeth, who was still supporting the collapsed, masked woman.

  “She’s breathing,” said Elizabeth.

  I crouched beside the two of them. “Can you tell how badly she’s hurt?”

  Elizabeth felt gently along the woman’s shoulder. “Could be broken. I can’t tell for sure.”

  “I can hear you, you know,” said a low voice from behind the mask, “Help me sit up.”

  Elizabeth and I exchanged startled looks. Elizabeth moved her hand down the woman’s back and helped her sit on the cold floor. She touched her shoulder with a groan. “Something is definitely broken,” said the woman in the mask, sounding more annoyed than in pain.

  Thomas turned toward us. “Who are you?” he asked, motioning toward her mask, “Besides someone who knows how to fight, obviously.”

  “I’m an invested citizen. My identity is not important.”

  I frowned. “The four of us know how to keep a secret.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind if we encounter each other again.” The woman tested her legs for a second, then sprang to her feet. “Goodbye, fellow citizens.” She marched toward the turnstile on the far side of the platform. As she moved, I noted the glisten of gold in the blood on her knuckles: gold like an aeon’s ichor.

  Could she be one of them? It would do something to explain her toughness. I glanced at Thomas.

  He shrugged.

  The woman in the mask said something to the officers guarding the exit. They hesitated for a moment, then let her pass. My brow furrowed. What had she said to them?

  “Who was that?” I wondered out loud.

  Rebecca walked over to me, Elizabeth, and Thomas. She sighed in frustration. “Someone I hoped I’d never see again. The lone sentry.”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. “An aeon?”

  “Yes,” said Rebecca, “I’ve met her before. She is—was—someone who frequently got in Yashelia’s way.”

  “What was she doing here?” Thomas asked, “And why would she jump in to fight cleans barehanded?”

  “The sentry thinks of herself as a protector of the people,” said Rebecca, “She’s not a teloite, though. Thinks the law isn’t enough to preserve humanity.”

  “And she’s dealt with Yashelia before?” I asked.

  “I was worried she’d recognize me, so I stayed back,” Rebecca said. “Too bad she always wears that mask or we could report her.”

  “Must be part of the idea,” said Thomas.

  “Right.” Rebecca folded her arms. “Hopefully this is the last we’ll see of her. She’s trouble.”

  Thomas raised his hands. “Wait a minute. She helped protect these people, got hurt in the process, and she’s trouble?”

  “Maybe she’s less trouble than
whoever was in control of these cleans,” Rebecca said. “I’ll admit, she seemed helpful today.”

  Thomas nodded. “I’ll keep my eye out for her. Granted, I’ve never heard of an aeon vigilante before.”

  “Lucky you.” Rebecca turned to me and lowered her voice. “Jeth, I can’t tell security what I know. They could compromise my new identity.”

  “I know.” I did not need reminding that if Rebecca was discovered to have ties to a rogue star who had murdered more people than I could bear thinking about, she would likely be in seriously deep trouble.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  Thomas nodded. “I’ll run interference. You were just on the train, so you didn’t see much.”

  “Thanks,” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Seriously.”

  The story worked like a charm. Security let us leave the station after taking our names and contact information. Thomas stayed back to explain his role in the fighting. Outside, I saw Max meeting his mother. Funny, I thought, how we start out so vulnerable, not like aeons. As far as I knew, aeons never had children.

  Max’s eyes seemed to follow me as we walked past until I realized he was looking at Rebecca.

  I shrugged mentally, unable to blame the kid if he had a crush or curiosity. Rebecca had never exactly hidden her mental abilities, and the fear illusion she had created in the train car might not point her out as its creator, but Max had been right there. He had seen the potential in her skills. Her powers had definitely grown since the two of us were teenagers in the Green Valley.

  What part did Yashelia play in Rebecca’s growth? Sudhatho? I didn’t want to think about the aeons, but there was no getting around it. Lately, they seemed less and less trustworthy thanks to the continued concealment of key facts, like how Yashelia was an aeon herself, however insane. Rogue stars couldn’t all be mad aeons, could they?

  Anything was possible, I admitted.

  We walked the rest of the way to Lotdel Tower and waited for Thomas in the big chairs in the lobby. Rebecca paced behind Elizabeth for a while but eventually settled into a seat beside me.

  Thomas emerged from questioning half an hour later and sent a mental message to Elizabeth ahead of his arrival at the tower.

  She turned to me when she received it. “Thomas is on his way. Sounds like they put him through it.”

  I sighed. “He should have just come with us, but I suppose that would have been tricky.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Great, then we can discuss what to do next over lunch.”

  “What to do next?” Elizabeth said, “Jeth, this is over.”

  “I’m not so sure, Liz,” I said. “The mastermind got away. And why attack the train station today? Did he know the lone sentry would be there?”

  “It’s not our problem. Security will deal with it,” said Elizabeth.

  “Maybe,” I said, “maybe not.”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  Rebecca leaned forward in her chair and turned to me. Dark hair fell around her face. “Don’t go looking for trouble, Jeth.”

  “Alright, alright.” I leaned in my chair, letting the soft back support me.

  The doors at the front of the building opened with a loud rustle of the leaves that had blown up against them. Thomas entered, but he wasn’t alone. Ryan Carter walked with him.

  Ryan and Thomas approached us. A business-like briefcase that looked too big for his small frame, hung in one of Ryan’s hands.

  “Welcome to Lotdel Tower, Ryan,” I said, not sure of the last time he had visited the building in person.

  He gave me a rueful smile. “Thanks, Jeth. Thomas told me he was in the thick of the mess at the train station. Lucky you didn’t get caught in the middle yourself.”

  “I can be cautious,” I said with a grimace, “sometimes.”

  “Not this time, though,” said Ryan, “not from what I heard.”

  I shrugged, trying my best to push down a momentary annoyance at his words. “So, what brings you here?”

  “Business. As usual. But more like business as unusual. You understand.” He smirked, far more genuinely than before, then his expression became solemn. “I have intelligence to gather about the train station attacker. Heard you four got a good look at the controller behind the cleans.”

  “He took a swing at me, so yeah,” said Thomas. He rubbed his ribs where the steel rod had hit him. “Oh, and it still hurts.”

  Ryan turned to him. “Mister Fenstein, considering your luck last time you got in a scrape, I’d say you’ve got a habit of getting away lightly.”

  Thomas frowned. “Last time? You mean—”

  “He knows about the garden,” I said, “he was running info on the purifier side.”

  Ryan nodded to me. “I saw everything back then and couldn’t stop it. I want Sudhatho to answer for his part at least as much as any of you. But for now, I’m not here about him.”

  I was surprised by Ryan’s tense tone and the length at which he spoke. I knew him mostly as a quiet analyst, not the detective he seemed to have become over the months after the garden. “The train station attack,” I said.

  “Yes.” Ryan looked at everyone seated. “I’m currently working on a case, and I think it ties to the people who attacked the station.”

  “People…” Elizabeth said with a frown. “I only saw one—who wasn’t clean anyway.”

  “I have evidence that points to there being multiple culprits. Probably four total accomplices, though I don’t know how many were actually present.” Ryan produced a folder from his large briefcase. “I have photographs of our suspects. Let me know if any of them look familiar.”

  “Are you sure we should do this out here?” I asked. “People will overhear.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I have a very skilled sensocycler dampening us from outside the building.”

  “You have some interesting friends, in that case,” said Rebecca.

  “These days, I do.” Ryan turned to her as he replied. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, miss…?”

  “Waters,” she said, using the assumed name.

  I had told Ryan about her before, but it was Rebecca’s choice to be cautious with her true identity.

  “Rebecca Waters.” She held out a hand. “It’s good to meet you, Ryan.”

  He shook her hand, as he gave her small smile. “You too.”

  Ryan released his grip and returned to his folder. “Tell me if you recognize any of these names or faces.” He began to remove printed pictures from the folder and pass them around. Electricity ran along my spine with a cold sensation. I recognized them all.

  First was the bearded man from the train station, easily apparent despite his beard being barely present in the picture. His eyes and the hardness of his features identified him at once. Ryan’s files said his name was Alan Trench.

  The other three pictures in the folder made my head spin. I had just met each and could put a different name than those on the picture captions to them. I had seen them at the administration building while I waited for Rebecca.

  Here was dark-haired Carol who had been wearing a dress despite the colder weather that time of year. She looked a few years younger, not much more than a kid, really. She had mentioned just arriving from the west.

  Next came Damien, who looked, if anything, paler in the picture than in real life. His hair was dark, not red like it had been when I met him that morning. I frowned as I remembered how terse and troubled he had seemed. How could I have known that morning the depths of his anger?

  Last, I pointed out Miranda to the others by name. Her hair stood out in the photograph, despite being cut shorter than it had been that morning. I wondered at her cheery tone when I met her. Could it all be fake?

  I remembered each of them aloud as I went. Obviously, the tests would have proved no challenge to them. They were from the city.

  Unregistered Memory, Ryan Carter, Lotdel Tower Trai
n Station

  Ryan and his team returned to the perimeter of security tape as night began to fall.

  It was odd to see Conner outside. The heavyset sensocycler preferred to stay behind the scenes when he could. His eyes roved uneasily up and down the street, his back to his small black car, which they had taken to get to Lotdel Tower after Ryan’s meeting with the colonel that morning.

  Alesia De Vries was used to field work, though a more violent kind, as a former purifier officer. Only a reprimand for a security breach had saved her from the disastrous mission at Yashelia’s garden. She was taller than Conner, and thus towered over Ryan as well. When he emerged from the building, she had been pacing, clearly impatient to get moving. Ryan understood the urgency.

  The renegades had struck in Sudhatho’s territory, though admittedly in a part he shared with Nageddia, a far lesser aeon. They might well be aligned against the teloite overlord the same as Ryan and his allies, but their methods were faulty.

  “Let’s go.” Alesia nodded to the station.

  “Keep a few questions in mind,” said Ryan. “Why the train station for starters? Had they intended to draw out the lone sentry, for seconds?”

  Conner sighed. “Where’s the main course in all of that?”

  “We can eat at my building after we check things out here,” said Ryan. “I may not look it, but I eat well.”

  They approached the perimeter where a group of security officers stood guard.

  All three of them had clearance from Colonel Cannwald’s office to be there, and the officers on duty did not give them any trouble. They must understand that an attack this bizarre would draw unusual attention. Ryan led the way into the station, pushing awkwardly through a sluggish turnstile.

  The interior of the station was brightly lit from overhead veins. The floor leading to the platform was marked with tracers that identified where each fallen clean had been recovered. The mindless bodies were valuable, and more physically powerful than they seemed, especially in numbers.

  No guards on the inside, though. Ryan, Conner, and Alesia fanned out through the open space, surveying for patterns, looking for hints of motive for the man Jeth had identified for Ryan as Alan Trench.