Ancient Enemies E-Book

R.S. Penney

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

The Carlsons are on the run. After throwing their lot in with the Equal Rights Movement, Claire and Della now face the wrath of a ruthless, authoritarian regime.

The Truth Seers will hunt them to the ends of Antaur, and even into space. On Palissa, a sanctuary world, they find out that someone has been kidnapping telepaths from multiple planets. Attempting to solve the mystery, Claire and her friends will come face to face with the ancient enemy more threatening than any other.

Meanwhile, young Audri hatches a plan to expose the Administrators. With the help of some Justice Keepers and friends of questionable legal status, she embarks on a mission that will take her from the slums of a distant space colony to a gala on a palatial starship.

The action heats up in ANCIENT ENEMIES, the third book in the Carlson Girls series by R.S. Penney.

Leseprobe

ANCIENT ENEMIES

THE CARLSON GIRLS

BOOK 3

R.S. PENNEY

CONTENTS

Author’s Note

Prologue

I. Fugitives

1. Desperate Measures

2. Nasty Surprises

3. Life on the Run

4. Plans in Motion

5. Fragile Confidence

6. Dwell in Darkness

7. Nowhere Left to Go but Up

Interlude 1: The Enemy You Underestimate

II. Sanctuary

8. When the Mask Breaks

9. How Things Could Have Been

10. Dead Ends

11. Substandard Accommodations

12. The Details You Miss

13. Changing Tactics

14. Theory and Practice

15. The Long Haul

16. The Taking

17. The Littlest Hostage

Interlude 2: In Pursuit of Stability

III. Revelations

18. Sisters Stand Together

19. To Breach Their Stronghold

20. Phase Two

21. Words You Can’t Take Back

22. When the Plan Goes Sideways

23. Strong Enough

24. Into the Depths of Their Domain

25. The Unifier

Epilogue

Appendix A

Appendix B

Appendix C

Appendix D

Appendix E

About the Author

Copyright © 2026 R.S. Penney

Layout design and Copyright © 2026 by Next Chapter

Published 2026 by Next Chapter

Edited by Gregg Chambers, Jori Cochran

Cover art by Lordan June Pinote

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Well, it’s a five-book series now. You’re welcome/I’m sorry. Long story short: the sheer amount of material that I had planned for what was to be the conclusion of the Carlson Girls trilogy is so great that I needed more than one book. I thought I might be able to do it in two, but about halfway through Book Four – which, as of the writing of this note, is almost finished – I realized that certain parts felt rushed. I’m telling the story of a revolution. Of a major change in the social order. I need to do it justice.

Part of it is that I’m working with some rather tight wordcount restrictions, which are both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because they force me to get creative and relentlessly trim the fat. A curse because, as a genre, science fiction requires more words. You’re dealing with worlds and technologies that don’t exist. You have to make it feel immersive to your reader and also make it comprehensible. If warp drive or telepathy are going to be major plot points, then your reader has to understand how these things fit into the world you’ve built.

Anyway, I have an ending planned. We’re moving toward it. I hope you enjoy this one. I feel obligated to point out that this book will move at a much faster pace than the previous two. I feel the need to do so because a few of you have approached me and told me that you enjoyed The Carlson Girls, but that it takes a while for the plot to get going.

The reason for that is simple: The Carlson Girls and Always Watching are both mysteries. Mysteries tend to move at a slower pace because much of the narrative will focus on the main character’s attempts to carefully and methodically determine what happened and who is responsible. And when you’re doing this in a sci-fi world, you have to explore the details of how that world works so that your readers will have enough clues to make a guess.

This book is not a mystery. It’s more like an action movie. So, when I say that parts of Book Four felt rushed, I would hate for you to think this means it’ll be slower than the Carlson Girls. No, Book Three is quite fast by comparison, and Book Four was moving at breakneck speed. I had to slow down to let you feel the weight of these massive political upheavals. You’ll see when you get there.

As always, there are some helpful appendices in the back of the book if you need extra details on the planets or technologies in my fictional universe.

Oh, one more thing. To add a hint of authenticity, I’ve given each of the planets different units of measurement. The Leyrian unit of distance is a dol. The Antauran unit of distance is a cren. And just about everyone uses some form of the Metric System because organizing your units in multiples of ten just makes sense. Hence the familiar prefixes.

However, characters who are not from Earth will sometimes use English units. So, Kisa might think something like, “The bullet passed within a few inches of her head.” This is deliberate. In an action scene or any other pivotal scene, I want you focused on the narrative flow of the story and not on trying to figure out how long a centicren is supposed to be. In moments like this, words like “inch” do not refer to specific units in the Imperial System but rather to the equivalent concept from the speaker’s native language, translated into English. “A few inches” is just another way of saying “a short distance.”

Okay, I’m done now. I promise. Enjoy the book.

-Rich.

PROLOGUE

THEY WOULD GO THAT FAR

The screen on Anna Lenai’s bracer displayed a background of blue circuitry with the word “Calling” spelled out in bright turquoise letters. She waited and waited, trying to keep her breathing steady, hoping that this time, she would get through.

The two youngsters who hid with her inside a narrow maintenance tunnel beneath the Cherry Street Metro Station shifted nervously. For the last eight hours, she had been trying to prevent them from picking up any hint of her growing trepidation. No easy task, given that both were telepaths.

Jarin Novarid had maintained an unflinching mask of stone-faced stoicism, which surprised her. She had been told that the Antauran people did not subscribe to patriarchal norms. But maybe he had other reasons to hide his feelings. The horrors he had witnessed that morning would throw anyone into shock.

Niada Seradok, on the other hand, was quite willing to cry in front of other people. It came in fits and starts with her. Sometimes, she would wipe the tears away and put on a brave face, but they always returned if her mind was left unoccupied for too long.

“Come on,” Anna whispered.

The tunnel was dark except for the glow of her screen, and the presence of her Nassai would shield her mind from telepathic probes, but you’d be surprised by what kids noticed. Too much fidgeting, shallow breathing, a tendency to jump at harmless noises: Any of those things could tip them off to the fact that she was scared. And she was scared, but she couldn’t let them know it. They had to see Anna Lenai: the stalwart hero of the Galactic War, the Justice Keeper who could take on an entire army of Overseers. That was the only thing that could get them through this.

The screen lit up with the face of a short, black-haired man with a cleft chin and a mole on one cheek. “Yes? Yes?” he barked before she could say one word. “Who is this? Why do you keep disturbing me?”

“Vidrin Seradok?” she asked.

“Dad!” Niada exclaimed, grabbing Anna’s arm and peering into the screen. “Dad! I’m okay! I’m okay!”

“Niada, where are you? Who has taken you?”

“She’s trying to help me, Dad!”

“Put the woman on!”

Gently, Anna extracted her arm from Niada’s grip and pointed the multi-tool’s camera at herself.

Vidrin Seradok was fuming now. If he could have, he would have hurled the full force of his anger through the screen and struck her dead right there. “Whoever you are, whatever ransom you want, I assure you-”

“I’m not trying to ransom your daughter, Mr. Seradok. I’m trying to return her to you.”

“You will not succeed in this-”

“Mr. Seradok,” Anna said, losing patience. “This would go a lot smoother if you would listen.” She struggled to keep her tone even and her expression neutral. Reminding herself that this man was justifiably angry and concerned for his daughter helped a little.

He deflated somewhat, his head sinking as he exhaled slowly. “We’ve been looking for Niada for the last six hours, and now, it turns out that she’s in the company of some strange woman I’ve never heard of? How is that possible?”

“She was attacked by the Watchful Eyes.”

“What? Surely not!”

“I’m afraid so.”

Vidrin went pale, and his eyes widened just a touch. “You mean she was involved in that nonsense at the Nodoril Gardens?” he thundered. “How did my sweet little girl get mixed up with traitors and subversives?”

Refusing to be baited, Anna closed her eyes and tried to collect herself. “We need to meet. Quickly and discreetly.”

“Can you bring her to my home in Emerald Heights?”

Anna twisted, glancing at the metal door that sealed the tunnel off from the rest of the station. It was still shut tight. Luckily, she had been able to get inside without too much difficulty. A few nanobots to disable the security circuits, and then, it was a simple matter of using her multi-tool to fashion a key. “Probably not.”

“What’s the problem?”

Leaning against the wall, Anna clutched the underside of her forearm with the opposite hand and kept the camera focused on her face. “We would have to take three trains and cross through two very busy metro stations with plenty of security cameras. The Eyes are probably expecting that.”

It had been sheer necessity that had driven them into the Cherry Street station, a desperate move to evade one of the street patrols. And there had been security cameras. Anna was praying that her hood and the children’s inconspicuous behaviour had been enough to avoid drawing too much unwanted attention.

“All right,” Vidrin muttered. “Where should we meet?”

“Do you know Eshri Park?” It was located in the city’s northwest quarter, in a neighbourhood that was home to X-3s and even a few X-2s. The last place the Eyes would look for terrorists. Anna had chosen the location after looking up some map data on a public terminal. It was only a few blocks away.

It seemed that Vidrin also had to check a map to find the park; the light reflected on his face changed colour, and his eyes scanned back and forth as he read through something. “All right,” he said. “I suppose that will do.”

“Meet me there in two hours.” The sun would have gone down by then. “And I need you to do one other thing for me.”

“What is that?”

Anna looked at Jarin, favouring him with a smile that she hoped would put him at ease. The poor boy repaid her in kind, but she could tell that it was forced. “Contact Chal Novarid and bring him with you.”

“Why?”

“I have his son as well.”

“Very well, Ms…”

“My name isn’t important.” Anna hated how that made her sound like a terrorist, but there was just no getting around it. The less he knew about her identity, the safer she would be. And so long as the kids remained with her, the same was true for them. “Just meet me at the designated time. You and Chal, no one else.”

With that, she ended the call.

“What now?” Jarin asked.

“Now, we wait.”

Niada surged forward and slammed into Anna, burying her face in Anna’s chest. The warmth of her tears seeped through Anna’s shirt. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” Anna said, resting her hand on the back of the girl’s head. “It’ll all be over soon.”

* * *

Twilight had descended on the city. The buildings on each side of Cherry Street were great, rectangular shadows in the glow of streetlights that had only just turned on. Anna noticed a few lights in their many windows, but most were either dark or had the shades drawn.

The neighbourhood’s many pubs and cafés were all but deserted. No one sat at any of the outdoor tables. On any other evening, she would have expected to hear laughter drifting through those open doors, but tonight, there was only silence.

She saw only three people on the sidewalk: one man who walked with his head down and his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, and a pair of young women who decided to loiter outside a micro-PC repair shop. Both were giggling as they whispered secrets to one another. The tall one in the long, brown coat eyed Anna suspiciously before pulling a blue pill from a container and popping it into her mouth.

That set Anna’s teeth on edge. She didn’t know what kind of chemical joy they had procured – Synth, most likely, or Fly – but if it had come from one of the underground markets, then it was probably laced with all sorts of dangerous additives.

She straightened the hood of her oversized sweater, hoping that it would conceal her face. She had borrowed the garment from one of the protesters – a large man, named Lorix – just before they parted ways. “Keep your senses open,” she murmured. “If you feel one of those patrols coming our way, let me know.”

Jarin was on her right, staring straight ahead and trying to look unfazed. To his credit, he did a pretty convincing job of it. But he shouldn’t have had to. The kid deserved the chance to grieve, to cry, to be scared. Anna had tried talking to him while they were hiding in the tunnel, but he wouldn’t say anything except that he was fine.

Niada was on her left, near the curb. She hadn’t cried in over an hour, but Anna could tell that she was still on edge. The poor girl flinched whenever a car drove past them, and she never let go of Anna’s hand.

With night coming on, the temperature had dropped to the point where the damp chill wafting in off the lake had a bite. Not a pleasant evening for walking. She hoped that no one would wonder what a woman and two youngsters were doing out here.

They walked in silence, moving east, then north along a side street lined with tall, narrow row houses. Each one had a large front window and dark tiles on its peaked roof. They were made of different coloured bricks – some gray, some red, some white. They seemed to have a bit more character than what Melissa had described, but then, this was supposed to be a nicer neighbourhood.

Thoughts of Melissa brought pangs of fear and grief that were echoed by her Nassai’s turbulent emotions. Seth loved Melissa every bit as much as she did. Anna was desperate to know if the other woman had survived, and if not…If not, she would blame herself for not being there. Maybe if she had gone with the others in the van, she could have done something.

She put such thoughts out of her head. Right now, they were nothing but a distraction. She couldn’t do anything for Melissa, but Jarin and Niada needed her.

It didn’t take long to reach their destination.

Eshri Park was a strip of grass surrounded by four roads that formed a rectangle, each with multiple streets branching off in different directions. The playground was desolate now; even on a normal evening, the kids probably wouldn’t stay out this late. A few stars had appeared in the deep, blue sky.

Anna raised a hand, bringing her young charges to a halt. She saw no one and felt nothing – not even a whisper of movement. That was just a little too convenient for her liking. “Jarin?”

“My dad’s here,” the boy muttered.

There were a few large trees growing in the field; perhaps Chal and Vidrin were hiding behind one of them, though that didn’t exactly fill her with confidence. She was about to ask, but Jarin pointed to the towering ash with golden leaves on its many branches.

“Do you sense anyone else?”

Jarin shook his head.

Tense as a frightened cat, Anna scanned the park again. She let out the breath that she hadn’t even realized she was holding and started forward. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

The kids followed her.

It wasn’t long before a tall, gray-haired man with a goatee that almost concealed his double chin stepped out from behind the tree. Jarin’s father, no doubt. His blue robe was marked by intricate patterns of silver embroidery on the hem and the cuffs of each sleeve.

Vidrin was a bit more timid, cautiously emerging from his hiding place as if he expected snipers to fire from the windows of nearby houses. Given how ruthless the Eyes could be, it wasn’t entirely out of the question. He also wore a robe, though his was dark green with gold trim.

Anna hissed at the sight of it and not just because the damn thing was an eyesore. She should have told them to wear something inconspicuous. She had thought that would be obvious, but apparently not to telepaths.

“Let’s get this over with,” Chal Norvarid grunted.

Anna urged Jarin forward, but the boy froze up. “What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

She got her answer when two large, black vans came barrelling around the corner from a neighbouring street, each one screeching to a halt as it parked along the curb. The back doors flew open, and agents in gray uniforms came flooding out of both vehicles.

They rushed into the park, coming up behind Chal and Vidrin and pointing very large rifles at Anna and the kids. “What did you do?” Vidrin wailed, rounding on his companion. For a second there, it looked like he was about to wallop Chal. Maybe he was doing just that, but with his mind instead of his fist. “You called them?”

Chal was eyeing Anna as if she might start breathing fire at any moment. Oh, how she wished she could. “We’ll get the kids back,” he growled. “And this terrorist scum will get what she deserves.”

The agents formed a line of bodies – twelve in total – all with rifles trained on Anna. Bendings wouldn’t do much good against that much firepower. She should have seen this coming.

The squad leader, a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown skin, raised his fist. “Eliminate them!”

The agents choked up on their weapons.

“Stop!” Jarin’s father yelled. One word from him, and they all froze. He might not have been their commander, but he was still a telepath. Slowly, the squad leader turned his head and waited for an explanation.

Undaunted, Chal drew himself up to full height, thrust out his chin and replied with a glare that said he would have the other man’s head on a plate if this didn’t go his way. “I’m quite sure you meant, ‘Eliminate her.’ Isn’t that right, Commander Tosk?”

“Sir?”

“You’ve got your guns pointed at children, man!”

Tosk’s face hardened. “The children were part of the uprising. They have been deemed enemies of the state. Our orders are to shoot on sight.”

“No!” Vidrin panted. “No! Niada is a good girl!”

“Your daughter is a subversive. Take aim!”

Once again, the agents raised their weapons.

Frantic and desperate, his face glistening with perspiration, Vidrin Seradok reached out to the commander. “Please! Please, you can’t do this!”

“Mr. Seradok!” Tosk barked. “One more word, and you will be branded an enemy of the state!”

Anna thrust both hands forward, a Bending forming mere fractions of a millidol away from her outstretched fingers. The distortion wrapped itself around her and the kids: a semicircle of refracted light, beyond which everything was a blur.

Bullets raced toward her and curved downward, driving themselves into the soil. Each one hit with a reverberation that she could feel through her shoes. Seth’s power surged through her body, making her feel alive even as it pushed her to her limits. In about fifteen seconds, her skin would start to tingle. Fifteen seconds after that, the tingle would become a dreadful burning sensation, accompanied by a pounding headache. Then she would pass out from exhaustion and possibly die.

Not that it mattered. If the Bending fell, she was dead anyway. These guys weren’t short on bullets.

All of that went through her head in about two seconds and was immediately followed by a shroud of confusion, an oppressive weight that crushed her thoughts before they could form. Never mind a minute; the Bending was going to collapse now.

The pressure lifted just before it did, and she noticed Niada trembling with a look of concentration. The poor girl was shielding Anna’s mind so that Anna could shield her body. It wasn’t long before the first tingles appeared – still mild but growing stronger with every passing second.

“I can’t break through!” Jarin squeaked. He had his fingertips pressed against his temple, his face scrunched into a painful wince. “I can’t make them stop! Someone’s shielding them!”

“Of course, they would have telepaths!” Anna spat.

Suddenly, the flow of bullets slackened as shrill cries echoed through the night. Anna couldn’t see, and her Spatial Awareness was blocked by the Bending, but she was pretty sure that some of the agents had fallen.

The others stopped firing to check on their comrades.

Gasping, Anna let the Bending dissipate. Her face and hair were drenched with sweat, her lungs burning from the strain. Without even realizing it, she had dropped to one knee.

Vidrin Seradok had one hand stretched toward the agents, his fingers curled like grasping talons. Five of them were on the ground, writhing, while the others rounded on him, no doubt shocked by his betrayal.

He couldn’t subdue more than five, not with enemy telepaths barricading their minds. It was a miracle he had accomplished that much. If not for a desperate need to protect his little girl, he probably couldn’t have done it.

“What are you doing, fool?” Chal snarled. “They’ll kill us!”

One of the agents turned his gun on Vidrin, but Vidrin clenched his fist, and the man crumpled, toppling over and landing on top of his rifle. “You will not harm Niada! Do you hear me? YOU WILL NOT HARM NIADA!”

Several others pointed their guns at him, deciding that Vidrin was the true threat.

“No!” Niada cried, shoving both hands forward as if she were trying to move an invisible wall.

The agents staggered, but they did not fall. She couldn’t do more than that. Not even with Jarin helping her. Anna saw it on the lad’s face. He was throwing everything he had at them.

Vidrin screamed, clutching the side of his head, but then – just before they could shoot him – he recovered and fixed a death glare on his enemies. Several agents howled as if they had been splashed with sulphuric acid. Those on the ground were starting to rise, but Vidrin was more concerned with the ones who were still on their feet.

Chaos.

Possibly an opportunity.

“Target different ones,” Anna muttered. “Keep them distracted.”

Skin tingling, mind racing, she sprinted across the field. One of the agents caught the sound of her footsteps and spun around, trying to point his weapon at her.

Anna dove for the ground, somersaulting through the damp grass as bullets zipped past above her. She came up on her knees right in front of him, reaching up with both hands to grab the gun and pin it against his chest.

She used his death grip on the weapon to fling him sideways into the next man. Both fell to the ground. With her superior strength, she had ripped the gun away from him and changed the nature of the game. She rose and turned to a woman who had only just noticed her.

The agent tried to aim, but Anna fired first, releasing a single round that shattered the other woman’s visor. Her hands were guided by battle-hardened instincts. She hadn’t intended on a headshot. Once that would have shaken her, but not today.

These people had fired on children.

Her next target was a tall man who never heard the slug that went through the back of his helmet. And then a heavyset fellow with a white beard. That guy probably should have retired a long time ago. Now, he’d never get the chance.

The telepaths, no doubt watching this battle through their minions’ eyes, tried to overwhelm her again. She felt their collective will crashing down on her and running up against…something. An obstruction of some kind that must have been generated by the children or possibly Vidrin.

One glance at that man dismissed any such notions from her mind; he was too focused on sating his anger to protect anyone. Snarling and hissing, he clenched his fingers into a fist.

The squad commander went stiff, the rifle tumbling from his hands. He gurgled and sputtered, pawing at his throat in a futile attempt to pry off whatever was choking him. Anna couldn’t see his face, but she knew the sounds of terror when she heard them.

But if Vidrin hadn’t saved her, then who…

Niada and Jarin were huddled up together, whimpering as they clung to one another. Two youngsters probably weren’t strong enough to stop half a dozen telepaths – or however many the Eyes had brought – but with the added protection of her Bond to Seth and the enemy dividing their efforts between attacking her and defending their own men, it might just have been enough.

A flicker of movement made her spin around and point her weapon at a pair of men who froze halfway through the act of standing up. Only one of them still had his rifle, and it was pointed at the ground. They quivered like frightened mice, wondering if she would pull the trigger.

“Go,” she growled.

Cautiously, they started to rise.

“Without your gun.”

The man with the rifle sighed but did as he was told, dropping his weapon and backing away from it. After three steps, he turned and bolted for the vans that were still parked on the curb, the other following on his heels.

She noticed two more agents kneeling in the grass, both clutching their heads as they endured whatever horrors Vidrin had forced into their minds. Three more were squirming on the ground. The rest were dead, killed by bullets or something worse. It seemed the enemy telepaths had abandoned their lackeys when the tide turned against them. Anna no longer felt them trying to incapacitate her.

Gasping as if he had just run five miles up a very steep hill, Vidrin fell hard upon his knees and folded up. His face was flushed, and his hair was soaked. Anna didn’t know how many telepaths he had faced in his psychic duel, but to have overcome all of them – even with help from Jarin and Niada – was a monumental accomplishment. A man’s love for his children could do powerful things.

Chal shook his head in disgust, surveying the field of fallen agents. Without a single word of comment, he turned and walked away.

“Dad?” Jarin called out, reaching for his father.

The loathsome man never even looked back.

“Dad? Dad? DAD! No!” Jarin ran to catch up, but Anna threw her arm across the boy’s chest, holding him back. “Let me go!”

“Jarin, listen to me.” She had to hold on tight; the poor kid was downright ferocious in his attempts to escape. “Listen. You go with him now, and he’s just gonna turn you in.”

“He won’t!”

“I’m sorry, honey, but he will.” She spun Jarin around, holding him by the shoulders. One look at his face – red as a sunrise and covered in tears and snot – made her want to cry as well. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re not gonna leave you.”

“I need my dad!” Jarin squeaked.

“For now, you’ve got us. And we need to get out of here. Can you be strong a little longer?”

He nodded.

“Good lad.”

Not two seconds after she released him, Niada ran to throw her arms around Jarin. The poor boy sobbed as she whispered promises that everything would be all right. Anna desperately hoped that she believed them.

Leaving the kids to grieve, she turned to Vidrin, who barely managed to stand up on shaky legs. He was transfixed by his own handiwork, petrified by the sight of traumatized agents moaning on the ground next to the bodies of their fallen comrades.

“We need to go,” Anna said, striding up to him.

Vidrin mouthed something incomprehensible, then stared off into the distance. If he was aware of her at all, it was only as a slight buzz on the periphery.

Anna reached out to touch his shoulder, and he flinched. She felt a sudden pressure on her mind, but it vanished when Vidrin realized that she wasn’t a threat. “What? What?” he stammered. “I…”

“Mr. Seradok, we need to go.”

“Yes, yes.” He looked upon his fallen enemies again, his face twisting with the horror of what he had done. “What do we do about them?”

“We leave them.”

“But…”

Anna placed herself in front of him, staring him down with all the severity that she could muster. “Another team will be here in minutes,” she said. “They’ll collect the survivors and give them medical attention.”

Vidrin seemed to be as horrified by that as he was by the fact that he had killed some of them. “But then they’ll come after us again.”

“Not if we’re gone. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Underground.”

PARTI

FUGITIVES

1

DESPERATE MEASURES

TEN HOURS EARLIER

“Melissa!” Claire panted. “Melissa!”

She had to resist the urge to shake her sister in a desperate attempt to wake her. Keeping the damp strip of fabric pressed against the wound took a great deal of effort. Could she still feel the blood soaking through the fabric? Moments ago, that would have terrified her. Now, she was pleading for it because that would mean that Melissa’s heart was still beating. Oh, God! This was all her fault.

Della was huddled up against the van’s sidewall, but the sound of Claire’s voice made her surge forward for a better look. Rodan had to hold her back, and she very nearly bit his hand off when he grabbed her shoulder.

Kisa was against the opposite wall with her eyes closed, trying to enter a trance so she could make another crystal. But it wasn’t working. Claire could hear it in her laboured breathing. Every bump in the road disrupted her concentration.

This was all her fault! This was all her fault! She never should have let Anna pull her away from the battle. If she had been there, she could have helped. Or…Or maybe if they had just not gone to the stupid protest in the first place!

Audri looked at her, and suddenly her panic was buried under a mountain of calm focus. “Keep pressure on the wound,” the other girl said. Gently, she touched Melissa’s neck, searching for a pulse. “She’s alive.”

Della was struggling to get closer. Audri looked at her as well and soothed her with some expert-level telepathy. “It’s going to be all right, Ms. Carlson.” Claire was amazed by her steady, reassuring voice. How could a girl of thirteen be so damn composed? “We’ll get through this.”

The driver grunted as he cranked the strange device that functioned in place of a steering wheel. It looked more like a flight yoke from a plane than anything Claire would expect to find in a car, but then this was Antaur. Things were different.

She was nearly thrown into the wall when they took a hard right turn.

Desperately, she scrambled back into place and pressed her sopping bandage hard against the wound again. “Hang on, Melissa.”

“Where are we going?” the driver asked.

“I don’t know,” Rodan muttered.

Della perked up, gazing at him with hazel eyes that promised to trade everything she owned if he would just get her daughter to safety. “There has to be someplace we can take her. The doctors-”

“Will turn her over to the Truth Seers!” Rodan growled. His face was as hard and uncompromising as a brick wall. “We take her to a hospital, and she’s as good as dead!”

“Then where?”

He considered for a moment, scowling. “I know a guy. He owes me one. Where are we, Arez?”

“Pildon Street,” the driver replied.

“Near the Colethi Market?”

“Yeah.”

Bracing one hand against the wall to steady himself, Rodan leaned forward for a look through the window. “There’s a SlipGate two blocks east of here. Take us there, and stay sharp! The Eyes will be on our ass any minute now!”

Claire opened her mind to the thoughts and impressions of the people all around her. Not just those in the van, but anyone they passed on the sidewalk. She very nearly recoiled and sealed herself off again.

The city was in a frenzy. By now, just about everyone had heard about the violence at the Nodoril Gardens, and they were terrified. Terrified and furious. Memories of news broadcasts, compiled from the minds of at least two dozen people, blended together in a soup of outrage and condemnation. The media had dubbed Kisa and her followers as terrorists. They wasted no time in stoking the public’s fear of unrest.

If anyone on the sidewalk knew that the brown van racing past them contained the so-called terrorists who had caused all this trouble, they would throw themselves down on the road just to make sure that Claire and the others didn’t escape.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

She felt a cloud of malevolence flowing toward them and slowly closing in. The Eyes, the Truth Seers: They were out there, and they were pissed. They didn’t know exactly where Kisa had gone, but it wouldn’t take long for them to figure it out. Claire diminished her psychic presence to avoid giving them any leads, leaving her senses open but no longer actively searching for threats. Rodan was right. They had maybe five minutes, tops.

Suddenly, the van jerked to a halt.

Claire’s first thought was that someone had blocked their path – a police barricade in the middle of the road, maybe – but then she noticed the driver working the parking brake. “We’re here!” he barked, flinging his door open and jumping out despite the other cars rushing.

Kisa shut her eyes, and Claire felt the sensation of reduced gravity again. Together, she, Della, Palona and Audri hoisted up the hunk of stone they had used as a stretcher. Getting her fingers under it was hard, but luckily, it was chipped in several places.

Melissa made a croaking sound as they lifted her, but other than that, she didn’t stir. Claire went right back to putting pressure on the wound again; Audri, too.

The back doors popped open, and then the driver, Arez, was waving for them to get out. They wasted no time in doing that, though Claire did notice that when she hopped out, her feet took too long to hit the ground. She nearly lost her grip on the stone stretcher, but with a little help from the others, she was able to keep Melissa steady.

Harsh sunlight assaulted her eyes, causing them to water. She realized that they were downtown, surrounded by huge towers that pierced the blue sky. The people on the sidewalks had stopped to gawk. Some of them had already fished out their micro-PCs to call the cops or record what they were seeing.

Arez had parked right in front of the SlipGate.

Concrete steps led up to a platform where the metal triangle sat beneath a stone pavilion. Claire was relieved to see that no one was using it at the moment. She and the others carried Melissa up the stairs with Kisa staying close to maintain the artificial gravity field.

Rodan went straight to the control console.

Arez, however, remained on the sidewalk and glowered at anyone who dared to approach. One man tried it – a big, burly fellow with a shaved head – but his bravado fizzled away when Arez pointed a gun at his broad nose.

“Hey!” Kisa yelled.

“You want to get out of here without an incident?” Rodan snarled at her. He was tapping away at the controls, trying to activate the Gate. “Let him do his work.”

Claire grunted and cursed as she carried her unconscious sister up to the platform. Even with three people to help her – and reduced gravity to boot – keeping the bandage in place was next to impossible. Melissa nearly slid off the slab twice. They had to hold her down and try to keep the thing level.

The distinctive hum of anti-gravity engines made her look up.

Carrier shuttles flew over the street: three of them, travelling single file. They were small, round aircraft, almost like beetles with stubby wings. Each one probably contained a dozen tactical agents and who knows how many telepaths.

They stopped abruptly, hovering over the road, then slowly lowered themselves to the ground. Landing struts extended from their bellies, producing a soft thump when they hit the pavement.

Desperate and scared, Claire and her friends scrambled to get Melissa into position in front of the Gate. She had almost fallen off the slab again; they had to reposition the damn thing to keep her level.

“Hurry up, Rodan!” Claire shouted.

He was at the controls with his teeth bared, frantically poking the screen. Suddenly, he yelped and pressed one hand against the side of his head.

Claire and Audri leaped to his aid, though – unless there were telepaths in the crowd – none of the spectators would realize they had done anything. Using every last scrap of strength they had, they constructed a protective shield around Rodan’s mind. It was flimsy. They had tired themselves out at the gardens. The enemy telepaths had no trouble creating holes that they barely managed to seal before the next one appeared. But even that meagre defence gave Rodan enough lucidity to complete his work. “Done!” he exclaimed as Arez came bounding up the stairs. The two of them rushed over to the Gate.

A hatch opened in the back of each shuttle, unfolding to form a ramp.

The Gate was powering up, producing a low hum that gradually rose in pitch and volume. By now, the sinuous grooves on its surface would have started to glow. Claire didn’t bother to look; she had larger concerns.

Working together, she and Audri shifted their attention to the tactical agents emerging from those shuttles, but they barely managed to make the first few stagger before the enemy telepaths slammed a shield into place. Trying to break through was like pounding her fists against a brick wall. Worse yet, the telepaths renewed their assault on Rodan. He cried out, falling on his knees and clutching his skull.

The agents formed up in a line.

Before they could aim those oversized weapons, a bubble appeared around Claire and her companions. Any light passing through its surface was heavily refracted; everything outside was a blur. She didn’t think bullets could get through – if what Anna said was true, they were in a small pocket of space-time that had been sealed off from the rest of the universe – but even so, she was glad they didn’t try.

The bubble jerked forward, flying through a black void with a single point of light in the distance. Taken beyond the reach of those hostile telepaths, Rodan breathed a sigh of relief. He tried to stand but needed some help from Arez to get back on his feet. There was no gravity here, but he was still pretty woozy.

A few seconds later, the void gave way to what appeared to be a medium-sized room with gray walls. Was this the space station then?

That thought went flying out of Claire’s mind when the bubble popped. The walls were made of concrete instead of metal or permaplastic, and they were covered in graffiti. If that wasn’t proof enough, the strange smell certainly got the point across. Claire had a hard time deciding what it was. Something greasy but smoky at the same time.

“Let’s move!” Rodan said, springing into action and heading for the door. “It won’t take them long to figure out where we went.”

“Can’t you just lock the Gate?” Claire asked. That was what people usually did when they wanted to prevent someone from following them.

Rodan glanced at the metal triangle and its beat-up control console. The thing was dented on one side, and one of the panels had been removed, exposing the vital circuitry underneath. She wondered if maybe that was what had caused the smell. “No,” he spat. “I don’t have the access codes, and I don’t know who would. Maybe no one.”

“So, they just leave the Gate open for anyone who wants to come through?”

“Claire, shut up and follow me. You’ll understand soon enough.”

He led them through long corridors with concrete walls and dirty floors. The lighting was spotty at best. Some of the bulbs had burned out, and no one had bothered to replace them. Even with Kisa’s artificial gravity – which seemed to be growing weaker – carrying Melissa was a trial. Her head would loll sometimes if they tilted the slab too much, but other than that, she didn’t move. Claire didn’t want to think about what that meant. The terror that Audri had suppressed was coming back.

They took a right turn, then a left and then another right before the corridor opened into a much wider passageway. Colourful tents were pressed up against the walls, leaving a central aisle that was wide enough for two cars to drive side by side. Plenty of space, but most of it was taken up by people.

She couldn’t say how many there were, but it had to be a thousand at least. Most of them wore ragged clothes: coats with holes, ripped pants – always in shades of black or brown or gray. Everyone spoke softly, but the combination of so many voices created a steady buzz of chatter to match the melange of scents that filled the air.

One guy was cooking marinated meat on a grill. Right next to him, an old woman sold jars full of some red substance. Or maybe she bartered them. Claire didn’t see any money changing hands, though that wasn’t surprising. Antaur had no physical currency, and she doubted that anyone would take Non-Transferrable Credits down here.

People moved aside for them, clearing a path for them to carry Melissa wherever they were going. One big man with a nasty scar above his eye decided to challenge them – maybe because they were trespassing on his turf or something – but a glare from Rodan made him change his mind.

The tunnel was quite long; it took at least two minutes to reach the other side. Then Rodan guided them through a shorter passageway and into an enormous room that hosted a second tent city. This one was even bigger than the last, and the tents were spread out in neat rows, with the aisles between forming a network of streets.

Wincing as she tried to hold her sister up and keep the bandage in place – Kisa’s Gravity-Sink must have been on its last legs – Claire grunted from the strain on her muscles. For some reason, Rodan didn’t take them directly to their destination. Instead, he charted a zigzagging course and made a turn at almost every intersection they passed.

At some point, Claire lost track of where they were going. All she knew was that he seemed to be guiding them toward one of those huge, gray walls. Sweet Jesus, the ceiling had to be at least three stories high.

Finally, as they neared the outermost tents, Rodan made a beeline for a section of the room that was walled off behind white sheets suspended from metal rods. He pulled one aside to reveal three hospital beds – all empty – and a hodgepodge of equipment from all over the place.

An old-fashioned scalpel sat next to a laser cauterizer on a metal tray. Claire didn’t know what the round device with the blinking, red lights was supposed to do, but she was pretty sure that the blue liquid in that large container was some kind of antiseptic.

One of the beds had a sheet of Leyrian SmartGlass mounted on the wall above its headboard. It was inactive now: clear as a window, showing only the gray concrete behind it. But the screen above the next bed appeared to have been made here on Antaur. It was black and housed inside a plastic frame.

A little drone came to life when it sensed their presence, floating up to see who had come for treatment. It was almost a sphere, but the top and bottom were flat, and it had a green lens inside a circular aperture.

As if sensing Melissa’s condition, it moved closer for a better look. Then it started squawking and wobbling from side to side in a frenzy. All that commotion drew a doctor out from behind another curtain.

He was a short and almost spindly man in his late forties or early fifties. His wrinkled face and thinning hair made Claire suspect the latter. He wore dark blue scrubs that had suffered a great deal of wear and tear. One of his pant legs was ripped, which didn’t exactly fill her with confidence.

She knew better than to judge people by their clothing, though. This guy might be the best surgeon within a hundred miles, but even if that were true, his outfit and the sorry state of his clinic suggested that he was working with some very limited resources. But then it wasn’t like they had any other options. Beggars and choosers and all that.

Adjusting his crooked glasses, he stormed over to examine Melissa and scowled. “Get her on the bed!” He turned on his heel and went straight to a stainless-steel sink that he activated with a pedal. “Tralise, I need you out here!”

Claire was amazed when clean water sprayed from the faucet. The doctor washed his hands and then retrieved a mask and some surgical gloves from a box on a nearby shelf. He had a hard time pulling them on.

But not as hard as Claire and her friends did in transferring Melissa to the bed. Her sister’s failure to react in any way terrified her. Was it already too late?

Before she could even think to ask, the doctor was shooing her out of the way and checking Melissa’s pulse. “She needs blood, and she needs it now. Tralise!” he barked, causing the woman who had just emerged from one of the clinic’s private rooms to jump. “Surgical scissors! Move!”

The woman wheeled the cart with the assorted supplies over to him. He snatched up a pair of scissors and cut away the fabric of Melissa’s shirt. “Get the biogel. We have to seal the wound.”

“Doctor, she’s-”

“She’s alive! Barely!” The doctor sighed, his mask puffing as he exhaled. “I don’t know how she managed it, but she’s alive.”

“She’s a Justice Keeper,” Della mumbled.

“That would do it.”

Tralise pulled a second cart out from behind one of those white sheets. This one was larger, bulkier, with a long hose that ended in some kind of pointed injector.

Tralise was quick to load a tube of gray liquid into the machine. Grunting, the doctor steadied Melissa with a hand on her shoulder and held the injector against her back. “We’ll start slow. Setting two.”

Claire wished that she could see what was happening. They wouldn’t let her get any closer. All she saw was the liquid in the tube slowly going down. “She needs blood,” the doctor said again. “What’s her blood type?”

“A-positive,” Della replied automatically.

“I have no idea what that means.”

Della was flushed with the sheen of sweat across her forehead. She and Palona had just returned from carrying the slab out to the tent city. “I have the same blood type!” she wailed. “You can take mine!”

“If only it were that simple,” the doctor muttered. He glanced at Tralise. “Fetch me some coradi-one blood.”

“We don’t have any,” she said, shaking her head. “All we’ve got is coradi-two and lamial-one.”

“Blast!” He considered for a moment, still sealing the wound with that big hose. “Coradi-two then. It’s our best bet.” Tralise ran off to get what he had asked for.

“But if it’s the wrong blood type!” Della protested.

“I don’t give her this, and she’s dead anyway!” The doctor never once looked up from his work. “Coradi is the universal donor group. Even those with type-one blood seldom have a type-two reaction. It’s her best chance of survival.”

The seconds passed like hours as Claire waited for Tralise to come back. Did these people have a refrigerator back there? A place to store the blood? She was tempted to ask, but she didn’t think the doctor would appreciate being interrupted. She told herself that, of course, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to give her sister spoiled blood, but it was hard to imagine that this place had the same resources as a hospital. Where were they getting the power and the water from? And…Oh, God, she could worry about all of that later.

Tralise returned with not one but two blood bags and a large pack of saline hanging from an IV pole. She wheeled the whole thing over to Melissa’s bedside, receiving a grunt of thanks from the doctor. “Now, the rest of you, get out here!” he said. “I don’t need to be tripping over you when I’m trying to work! Go! I’ll call you when there’s a change in her condition.”

2

NASTY SURPRISES

An hour later, they were all leaning against the vast stone wall. All except Kisa; she sat on the floor with her legs stretched out and her eyes closed, which probably meant that she was trying to contact the Field.

Rodan was pacing and growling through clenched teeth, stomping over to a green tent, then spinning around and going back the other way. The old woman who sat beneath that tent watched him nervously. Claire couldn’t blame her. The sooner they got rid of him, the better off they would all be.

Della stood with her arms folded and her shoulder pressed to the wall, frowning at nothing in particular. Claire wanted to ask if she was all right, but she didn’t think her mom was up for a conversation.

“It doesn’t make sense!” Rodan hissed.

Slouching against the wall and yawning, Audri covered her mouth with one hand. “What doesn’t?”

Rodan froze in mid-step, watching her from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t been expecting a response from her of all people. “The Eyes,” he said after taking a moment to decide whether he wanted to share his thoughts with a telepath. “Where are they? Why haven’t they shown up?”

Audri stood up straight and answered him with a glare that should have frozen him solid. “You want the Eyes to come?”

“How much do you know about them, girl?”

“Probably more than you.”

He chuckled, perhaps unaware of Audri’s training with the Truth Seers. “The Eyes aren’t exactly known for their restraint.” He shrugged and gestured to the passage leading back to the main tunnel. “It couldn’t have taken them more than five minutes to figure out where we went. So, why aren’t they here in force?”

“I don’t know,” Audri admitted, never once breaking eye contact. “Maybe they’re trying to avoid another confrontation. There are plenty of civilians in this place.”

“You think the Eyes care about them?”

“Or maybe they were given orders not to pursue us!” Audri pressed on. “Either way, let’s count our blessings and be glad that we’re not fending off another storm of bullets!”

Rodan shook his head and resumed his pacing. “Idiot child.” The old woman tensed up as he passed her tent.

Audri sighed and shuffled a little closer to Claire. “He’s right,” she murmured with more than a touch of irritation in her voice. “The Watchful Eyes wouldn’t just give up. If someone ordered them to back off, it means one of two things: either there is some other mission objective that’s more important than killing us…”

“Or?”

“Or they have something nasty planned.”

Claire shut her eyes and pressed the tips of her fingers into her forehead. “Great,” she whispered. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what it might be?”

Audri scowled and shook her head. “They didn’t tell me very much.” She braced one hand against the wall, staring down at the dirty floor beneath her shoes. “I mean, I thought they did, but over the last few weeks, I’ve seen things I never would have imagined.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Lay low, I guess. And try not to draw too much atten…”

Claire sensed the sudden spike in hostility before she saw the pack of burly men in tattered clothing coming their way. Their leader was bald, like Arez, but with a square jaw instead of a round face and a crooked nose that had never fully healed after being broken. His filthy hands were wrapped in fingerless gloves; his vest was frayed on one side, and his arms were as thick as tree trunks.

“Rodan!” he barked, clapping his hands and flashing a murderous smile. The others halted behind him, waiting for orders. “I thought we agreed that you weren’t gonna come back here.”

Rodan stopped his pacing and turned to the other man. Oh, what Claire would have given to see the look on his face, but he had his back turned. “This isn’t the time, Caz.”

“I think it’s just the time.”

Audri opened her mouth to intervene, but Claire laid a hand on the other girl’s arm. She didn’t want any of these bystanders to realize that a pair of telepaths had wandered into their midst. Maybe Rodan could talk his way out of this, and if not, well…Then they would do what they had to.

“You always were a moron, Caz.”

So much for talking his way out of it.

Strangely, Arez was content to remain by the wall with his arms crossed, watching the whole thing play out without any indication that he intended to get involved. Kisa had opened her eyes, and Della…You’d have to be an idiot to think that Della hadn’t noticed the altercation, but she was too distraught to care very much.

Palona seized the opportunity that Audri had passed up, striding out to confront Caz and his buddies. “All right, that’s enough. We’re not here to cause any trouble-”

“What did you just say to me?” Caz blustered, ignoring her. In the blink of an eye, he had his gun out of its holster and pointed at Rodan. “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?”

Rodan exposed the bracelet on his left wrist, and Caz froze up as if he had been turned to stone. He just stood there, gun in hand, mouth quirked into a hateful sneer, eyes locked on the man that he intended to kill.

Cautiously, Rodan moved a few steps to his right but kept the bracelet up like a shield the whole time; it was the only thing preventing Caz from pulling the trigger. “A moron,” he said, letting one hand drop and thrusting the other toward his enemy.

Caz was hurled into a nearby tent, the whole thing collapsing beneath his weight. The bearded man who must have owned it hopped to his feet and started screaming in a language that Claire didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Raen, but Antaur had many lesser-known languages.

The others grew tense, unsure of whether they wanted to draw their weapons or run away. “Now,” Rodan said. “Would anyone else like a taste?”

“Enough of this!” Kisa snapped, standing up with some difficulty and brandishing her walking cane. She pointed it at the nearby clinic. There was a good chance that if bullets started flying, one of them might hit the doctor or…Or Melissa. “This is a place of healing! If you will not respect that, then depart before you suffer the consequences of your stupidity!”

Caz stood up, dusting himself off, and squinted at her. “You think you can come down here and tell me what to do? Who are you?”

Kisa squeezed her fingers into a fist and pointed one of her rings at him. Burns spread across Caz’s forearm, causing him to yelp and stumble backwards. He ended up tripping on some of the tent fabric and falling on his ass again.

“Someone not to be trifled with,” Kisa said coldly. “Go now before you taste the full extent of my power.”

Audri gave Claire a look.

Even with her mind walled off, Claire knew what the other girl was thinking. Surely, telepathy wouldn’t have caused as much of a scene.

Scrambling to his feet, Caz shifted his gaze between Rodan and Kisa. Then he turned and ran, ducking around a corner and vanishing behind one of the larger tents. His minions followed with heavy, lethargic footsteps. Claire got the impression that some of them were only doing it out of habit.

“The rest of you can stay,” Kisa declared.

They halted, slowly turning around with shocked faces. Eight men, all standing there with scraggly beards and ragged clothing, unsure of whether they had heard her correctly.

Kisa pressed the tip of her cane down on the floor, holding its grip with both hands. She looked almost like a sage from some old storybook. All that was missing was the robe. “Caz was a fool,” she said. “You deserve better.”

A heavyset man in a ripped jacket came forward. He glanced first to the right and then to the left as if silently conferring with his buddies. They all seemed to have decided that he would speak for the group. “You want to lead us?”

“You’re welcome to come with us,” Kisa replied.

“And work for you?”

“And work with me.” She stepped forward, hoisting up her cane and again and holding it like a wizard’s staff. Claire had to give her this much; she knew how to play the part. “I’m trying to build a better world.”

Some of the others laughed, but the big man was intrigued. He pinched his chin with his thumb and forefinger and carefully studied her. “You’re that woman, aren’t you? The one who’s stirring up all the trouble.”

“I am Kisa Kareen Velnos.”

He nodded. “I thought so.”

“Will you stand with us in our fight for justice?”

Rodan snarled and stomped over to Kisa, leaning in close as if to whisper in her ear but speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is a bad idea.”

She turned on him with a raised eyebrow. “We swore that we would fight for the rights of low-status citizens,” she replied. “Did you think that didn’t apply to X-0s? These men have as much right to a better future as you do.”

“They’re dangerous.”

“You’re dangerous.” Kisa limped forward, grimacing each time her cane touched the floor, and Rodan backed up. “So dangerous that I often think you’re more trouble than you’re worth, but you’re one of us, Rodan.”