Linkage: The Narrows of Time (38 page)

“How did the aliens know Drew was your
son?”

“When they scanned the room, they must have
checked our genetic markers and determined he was my
offspring.”

“What about me?” Lucas asked, wondering what
earth-shattering revelation was next. “Am I one of your
‘offspring,’ too?”

Kleezebee shook his head. “No, you’re
not.”

Part of Lucas was jumping up and down that
Kleezebee wasn’t his father, too. But the rest of him felt a deep
sense of regret and he wasn’t sure why. “So my being part of this,
is what, an accident?”

“Hardly. After we had your intellect tested,
we arranged for the two of you to be roommates in the orphanage. I
had hoped you two would bond.”

Lucas figured Drew was going to be pissed
when he learned that his bio-dad knew his whereabouts, but chose to
leave him in the orphanage to fend for himself. The video screen in
the back of his mind suddenly played a movie of Drew crying himself
to sleep night after night in the orphanage, which wouldn’t have
been necessary if Kleezebee had stepped up and taken responsibility
for his progeny. Maybe Kleezebee wasn’t confident in his skills as
a single parent, or perhaps his wife Caroline took care of all the
child-rearing, leaving Kleezebee to focus solely on work. Whatever
the reason, a branch just fell off the Kleezebee respect tree.
“What about our adoption? Did you arrange that, too?”

“We may have helped nudge it along a
bit.”

“So you’ve orchestrated everything since day
one.”

Kleezebee nodded. “That way I could keep
close tabs on you.”

“And the free rent?”

“I would have done that regardless,”
Kleezebee replied. “And you should probably know that Trevor isn’t
just your lab assistant; he’s also your bodyguard.”

“That sounds about right,” Lucas said,
rolling his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell Drew he was your son?”

“Simple, really—he already has a family.
Telling him I’m his biological father would only muddy the
situation.”

“But, he
has
a right to know.”

“Perhaps, but I would prefer that you not
tell him, or your mother. It could destroy your family, and I’m
sure you don’t want that.”

Lucas wasn’t sure if he agreed with
Kleezebee’s reasoning, but nodded anyway. Regardless of what
Kleezebee thought or expected of him, his primary responsibility
was the well-being of his little brother. If he later decided to
tell Drew the truth, he would. Kleezebee would just have to deal
with it.

Lucas started thinking about his biological
parents and the humiliating stories he was told about their pasts.
He had always secretly hoped their backgrounds were a fabrication
of lies, but never expected it to be a possibility, until now. “Was
my bio-mom really a drug addict?”

“Yes, and your biological father died in
prison. That all happened before we placed you with Drew.”

So much for ridding himself of some emotional
baggage; he shouldn’t’ have expected to get that lucky. “What about
Drew’s bio-mom? Is she really dead?”

Kleezebee nodded in a strange manner, acting
as if he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Lucas needed answers. “Oh
my God, you didn’t run her car off the road, did you?”

“No, that was a tragic accident. We had
nothing to do with it.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“The photograph Drew carries around his neck
is not hers. It’s a picture of one of my crew; someone who died a
long time ago.”

“Why the hell would you give him a fake
photo?”

“We didn’t have a good photo of Lauren to
use.”

“Why even bother?”

“We needed something he would want to carry
with him at all times. There’s a tracking device and audio
transmitter hidden inside the photo’s backing paper.”

Lucas’ head spun. Had he just heard the
professor correctly? Kleezebee had been eavesdropping on them all
their lives? Lucas was certain somewhere along the way, a few
embarrassing or slanderous conversations must have taken place
between him and Drew that Kleezebee never should have heard. “Was
the audio on all the time?”

“No, just occasionally when I checked in on
you.”

“That’s how you always seemed to know when we
needed help.”

Kleezebee nodded.

Lucas was still pissed. But now wasn’t the
time to dwell on the privacy ramifications of the transmitter. He
decided to save that debate for a later time. “Can we use the
tracking device to find him?”

“If we could get close enough, yes. But it’s
obviously not going to work across dimensions. For now, we wait for
the Krellians to contact us and arrange a swap.”

That’s not much of a plan, Lucas thought.
Kleezebee was supposed to be a
master planner
and this was
the best he could come up with? He had hoped for a more direct
response to the Krellian threat. “Can’t we just overpower them the
next time the portal opens?”

“And do what? Send in a handful of men? If
they’re opening the portal from one of their hive ships, we’d be
outnumbered a hundred thousand to one. All that’ll do is get Drew
and our men killed. No, we’re going to wait to see what they want,
and then formulate a rescue plan. Right now, the best course of
action is to step back and think rationally. They may look like
simple overgrown bugs, but they’re very cunning and
formidable.”

Bruno tapped Kleezebee on the shoulder.
“Boss, we really need to start preparing for the exchange.”

Kleezebee acknowledged Bruno’s request, then
turned to Lucas. “Are we good?”

Lucas nodded, though he didn’t want to.

Chapter
28

Reciprocity

An hour later, Lucas was standing next to
Trevor and Bruno in the video room, listening to Kleezebee give
instructions to a gathering of armed guards. Three of the ten men
were Bruno copies. “When the rift opens again, I want you to spread
out and flank the opening just in case they decide to attack. It’ll
be harder for them to select their targets if we’re not all grouped
together. Did you bring the stunners?”

“Yes, sir,” one of the men replied, opening a
black duffle bag. He pulled out weapons and distributed them to his
squad. He also gave one stunner to Trevor.

“Can I get one of those?” Lucas asked, hoping
to join the fight. Even though he didn’t have any formal training,
he figured he could aim and shoot an energy-based weapon much
easier than a regular handgun. How hard could it be?

“Sure, why not?” Kleezebee said, taking a
stunner from the guard and giving it to Lucas. “Bruno will show you
how to use it.”

Lucas looked at the Bruno copies and
pretended to hand the stunner to each one of them, as if he didn’t
know what Kleezebee really meant. A little humor might lighten the
mood, he thought. His tomfoolery seemed to work—smiles flourished
all around him.

Kleezebee took another stunner from the guard
and held it up chest high. He moved his finger to a switch along
the top of the gun, and told everyone, “Set your weapon to stun
level two. I doubt level one will be sufficient to incapacitate our
guests.”

When Kleezebee clicked the switch, Lucas
could see the gun’s green power meter increasing from halfway to
full. As it did, the weapon’s energy bank charged to maximum,
giving off a short-lived hum that increased in pitch. Everyone else
followed suit, filling the room with a symphony of harmonic
sounds.

Kleezebee told his techs. “I want all our
sensors and recording equipment trained on the portal to see if we
can trace it back to their location. We may not get another chance,
so let’s get it right.”

* * *

Another hour crawled by before the Krellians
finally made their appearance. The portal opened as a flicker of
light, in the same manner and location as before, sending the
security team into action. The guards fanned out and took position
ten feet in front of the expanding rift with their backs only a few
feet from the elevator doors.

Kleezebee hobbled around on crutches behind
the gauntlet of men. Lucas joined him. It was the most defensible
position in case they needed to make a quick retreat into the
elevator. Trevor and the original Bruno copy were standing to the
left, just in front of the hidden entrance to the med-lab. Both of
them were armed with stunner weapons.

A single Krellian warrior stepped through the
rift carrying a naked human female out in front like a protective
shield. The redheaded young woman’s eyes were closed and her limp
body was covered in blood and bruises. The lower section of her
right leg was shredded as if it had been torn off at the ankle,
eaten, then cauterized by an intense heat source.

The creature swung her from side to side as
it stepped forward, furnishing Lucas with a clear view of her back.
He almost puked. The alien had impaled the center of her spine with
one of its tentacles; wearing her like a ten-cent hand puppet.
Blood was flowing from the insertion point.

Her eyes opened halfway and focused on Lucas
while she reached out slowly with one trembling hand. Instantly, he
knew what she wanted—a quick and merciful death. He wanted to help
her, but couldn’t. Drew’s life was at stake, and he knew taking the
wrong action would probably kill him. He had to make a choice—a
tough choice—one that would surely haunt him forever. He broke eye
contact with her and looked away for a moment.

When he looked back, her wilted body
quivered, then fully energized as she began to speak in a
low-pitched, monotone voice that echoed as if two male voices were
speaking in unison. “WE HAVE CRIPPLE. GIVE US SUBSTANCE OR CRIPPLE
DIES. KLEEZEBEE RACE DIES. BLUE PLANET DIES. WE RETURN IN ONE
REVOLUTION. GIVE US SUBSTANCE AND WE GIVE CRIPPLE.”

With that, the creature walked backward to
the rift. It managed to get one of its legs across the event
horizon before Bruno did what Lucas couldn’t bring himself to
do—take action. He fired his stunner, blasting the alien on the
right side, which sent an energy discharge traveling across its
body and down its tentacles. The female interpreter fell from the
tentacle’s grip just as the alien disappeared through the rift. The
portal closed, leaving her lying on the floor, crying.

Everyone except Lucas rushed forward to help,
kneeling down next to her. He stood alone, embarrassed by his
earlier cowardice. How could he face her now? What would he
say?

“Kill me, please,” she cried in a feeble
voice from the center of the huddle. The crowd of good Samaritans
blocked Lucas’ view of her face.

“Let’s get her to the infirmary,” Kleezebee
commanded with his back to Lucas.

Bruno stood up with the woman draped across
his arms. Trevor removed his white tunic and lay it over her naked
body, giving her some of her humanity back.

Lucas stood aside as Bruno rushed her to the
elevator. Her head and lone-remaining foot were hanging below his
arms, flaccid and calm. Lucas could see her face, but mercifully,
her eyes were closed. He prayed she couldn’t feel the pain. Bruno
stepped into the elevator and so did Trevor. The doors closed.

Kleezebee slid his crutches forward, bumping
into Lucas’ left elbow. “We’ll take the next elevator.”

“We?”

“You and I need to debrief her. Maybe she
knows where they’re holding Drew.”

“Don’t you think we should let them treat her
first? She didn’t look so good.”

“That’s precisely why we must talk to her,
now
. What if she dies or lapses into a coma? If she can
provide some intel, we’re going to need it. Twenty-four hours isn’t
much time to mount a rescue plan.”

* * *

Two hours later, Lucas was standing in the
infirmary along the back wall between Kleezebee and Bruno. They
were still waiting to speak to the unconscious woman, who was being
treated by a male physician and three nurses. Trevor had returned
to the med-lab at Kleezebee’s behest.

“I’ll be right back,” Lucas said to
Kleezebee, before wandering over to the isolation ward’s viewing
window. He couldn’t help himself; he had to check again. He wiped
off the glass, using his right index finger as a squeegee to clear
a patch of frost blocking his view. The body was right where it was
supposed to be, lying on the table farthest from the window, and it
wasn’t moving. He checked, but found nothing slithering down from
the table or hiding in the corner of the room. He had seen it
happen too many times in the movies where the alien’s body wasn’t
actually dead, only to suddenly spring back to life and catch the
unsuspecting heroes by surprise, usually while they were enjoying a
premature victory celebration.

Lucas returned to his colleagues, nodded
once. “It’s all good.”

“Boss, how long do we wait?” Bruno asked
Kleezebee.

Kleezebee looked at him, then at his watch,
then at the medical team. He sighed and shook his head several
times. “Screw this,” he said, hobbling closer to the medical team.
“Doc, give her something to wake her up.” It was the third time
Kleezebee had made the demand.

“Look, I told you before, she’s not strong
enough. Giving her a stimulant now might kill her.”

“We can’t wait any longer,” Kleezebee replied
with a sharp tongue.

“No, I’m not going to take that risk.”

Kleezebee grabbed the doc by the collar,
pulling the man close to his face. “Give me the damn syringe and
I’ll inject her myself.” Kleezebee let go of the doctor, shoving
him back a step in the process.

“Fine,” the doc replied, handing Kleezebee a
syringe loaded with a stimulant. “But you’re responsible if she
dies.”

One of the nurses used an alcohol swab to
sterilize the woman’s neck. While the alcohol dried, Kleezebee held
up the syringe, removed the needle guard, then tapped the needle
gently while squeezing the plunger until a drop of liquid appeared
on the tip. It was as if he had done it a thousand times before.
The professor aimed the needle at her neck, inserted it, then
pressed the plunger to shoot the load of stimulant into her system.
He handed the empty syringe to a nurse.