Fringe Runner (Fringe Series Book 1) (19 page)

Corrupted Illusions

Critch

Critch watched as Doc and Sixx lugged Reyne to the medical bay, and wondered if the old captain would pull through. Even with the blue stain, Reyne was too pale, and his hair clung to his face.

The pirate waited for the launch countdown to finish. Beyond the launch pad, all he could see was water. He imagined how much easier life on Terra would’ve been with this much water.

He grimaced. He hated thinking of Terra. He hadn’t lived there since the Uprising, and his final days there—the worst days of his life—haunted him still.

They’d been safe and secure at Broken Mountain. They’d even been planning an attack that would’ve changed the entire course of the Uprising. But then, the CUF snuck through the tunnels in the dead of night. The torrents never stood a chance. The CUF never would’ve found those camouflaged tunnels on their own, and no sensors could’ve picked them up. That the CUF came through
all
the tunnels at the same time meant one thing. Someone betrayed the cause.

Coincidentally, Reyne had left the day before with several medics to check on civilian injuries. At the time, Critch had assumed Reyne had been killed. It wasn’t until after the attack when he put two and two together.

Reyne was the traitor.

Critch became a hardened leader that day after learning a final and the most valuable lesson from his mentor.

Don’t trust anyone.

For many years, he’d wished for Reyne’s head on a platter, for some kind of retribution. Only now, seeing Reyne weak and injured, he found a strange feeling of sympathy toward the traitor.

The panel chimed, signaling the countdown was nearly complete. Glad to focus on the launch, he brushed aside memories that only complicated things and worked on getting them off Myr and to Alluvia.

*

Reyne woke to a pleasant numbness.

“You’re awake.”

He turned groggily, and Doc’s blurred slender form sharpened into view. “How long have I been out?”

She cupped his face with warm hands. “Three days.”

“Too long.” He started to sit up, and placed a hand over the tender bruise on his side. He pulled up his shirt to find a bright pink scar buried under a clear, gel-filled shell.

“Be careful.” She touched his chest. “I kept you under for your body to mend faster, but you still need time.”

“We’re clear of Alluvia’s space barrier, courtesy of our buddy, Boden. Prepare for landing.”

Reyne pushed off the table to his feet and stabilized himself against the spinning room.

“You need to rest,” she said, holding him steady.

When the room slowed its spinning, he held an open palm out to her.

She pursed her lips, looking down at his hand and up at his face. After a short battle of the wills, she relented. She opened a drawer, tore off a strip of pills, and placed them in his hand.

Her hands went to her hips. “You’re a fool if you think you should be moving around. You should stay in bed.”

He grabbed an additional strip of pills and wagged it at her before pocketing it, then headed toward the bridge without a word. When he entered, he found Boden at his seat and Critch in the pilot’s seat. The mechanic was the first to notice Reyne, who tilted his head in a silent greeting.

Reyne leaned against the back wall. “Did Demes find anything useful in the data?”

Critch threw a glance over his shoulder, giving Reyne a once-over before turning back to his controls. He gave a long, slow nod. “More than a dozen video transcriptions of Dr. Zara Wintsel and Corps General Michel Ausyar planning their takeover of the entire Collective. Seems the pair had the lofty goal of becoming the Collective’s first emperor and empress.”

“That’s a lofty goal,” Reyne said.

“They couldn’t do all this work in a silo,” Critch countered. “They never would’ve used the blight without the blessing of Myr’s leadership. This is obviously an effort by the entire elite class.”

“I wish I could see the looks on the faces of the Alluvian citizens when they see the broadcast,” Boden said.

“Speaking of Alluvians, any word from Heid?” Reyne asked.

“Nothing,” Critch replied.

“She’ll pull through,” Reyne replied. “Her Myr intel was good. We can trust her.”

Critch focused straight ahead. “We may want to consider a backup plan.”

“She’ll pull through,” Reyne repeated. He hadn’t expected much from a CUF officer, but her intel on the Myr heists was spot-on, and she’d given her word that she’d connect them with a news reporter on Alluvia, who would then broadcast any evidence they acquired at Wintsel’s residence.

Reyne shot a sympathetic glance to Boden. “If we still don’t hear from Heid by the time we land, we might have to head to Boden’s to regroup.”

“We can’t go there. My parents still live there,” Boden said quickly.

“We might have no other option,” Reyne said. “We can’t stay on this ship. It won’t take the CUF long to put the pieces together, especially when a Myrad ship is using Alluvian codes. The faster we ditch this junker, the better chance we have.”

Critch nodded to the blue world filling the view screen. “We’ll be landing soon, but you don’t look to be in any condition to leave the ship.”

“I’ll be fine.” Reyne popped a painkiller, pushed off from the wall, and headed toward his quarters to gear up.

By the time he checked his weapons and grabbed some food, Critch had them on the ground in a space dock. Though, on Alluvia, “ground” wasn’t entirely correct.

The space docks, along with every city, were built on massive, floating platforms. The entire planet’s surface was covered in water, with giant reed forests reaching upward toward the sky. The water was peaceful and gorgeous and deadly.

When the early colonists arrived from Myr, they brought with them DNA for many of Earth’s species. They cloned hundreds of species to provide their food supply, but they failed to take into account that mutations to adapt to new climates were inevitable. What had been large, harmless fish used for food on Earth evolved on Alluvia over the centuries into deadly predators.

Because of the danger, tenured were used for fishing. Boden’s parents had been fishermen, but had managed to buy their freedom. Reyne didn’t know the story behind how they acquired enough credits, but he knew that story was the same reason Boden had left and never spoken to them again. With Boden’s staunch loyalty to the fringe, Reyne suspected that Boden’s parents were the last people they wanted to get involved in their plans.

“We’re docked,”
Critch announced to the ship.
“Grab all your gear. Birk, pack up the fungicide for Sol Base. We’ll be finding another ride home.”

“Still no word from Heid?” Reyne asked after they all met at the airlock.

“We’re on our own.” Critch headed down the ramp. He wore a cloak over his clothes, as did everyone from the ship. Tenured walked freely on Alluvia. The crew took no precautions to disguise themselves, hiding only their weapons, which were outlawed for all non-citizens.

The painkiller had kicked in, and Reyne found himself feeling better than ever, with even his arthritis muted. He strode down the ramp and met Critch at the bottom. Before them stood an ancient-looking, sharp-dressed Alluvian.

“Gentlemen, I am your driver,” he said. “I will deliver you to your destination.”

Critch eyed Reyne, who looked every bit as surprised as Reyne felt.

Reyne said quietly, “Guess she pulled through after all.” He then looked back to the driver and waved his arm. “Lead the way.”

The old man led them at a snail’s pace through the docks. They walked under a huge glowing sign that read
Welcome to First City.
On the other side, the driver motioned to a white luxury hovercraft before opening the door and stepping inside. Reyne followed, staring at the dozen seats covered in real leather. Bowls of fresh fruit and bite-sized chocolates sat at each seat. He had to remind himself to focus on the mission to keep from tearing into the decadent treats.

He took a seat near the driver, and Critch did the same. The rest of the crew climbed inside, each making sounds of awe and wonderment. Critch rubbed the leather.

“Knowing Alluvians, it’s probably human skin,” Boden said from behind them.

Reyne and Critch glanced back to see Boden looking all too serious. Reyne returned his gaze to the front, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“It’s fish skin. He’s just messing with us,” Critch said softly, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

While their crew savored the delicacies, Reyne and Critch watched out the windows to see where their strange host was taking them. The ride was shorter than expected, with their driver stopping a mile or so from the docks, in the warehouse district.

The hovercraft settled onto the ground and the driver turned off the engine. “We have arrived.” He walked through the craft and opened the door. Reyne shot Critch a quick glance to see the pirate unclicking his holster. Reyne did the same and led the way.

“Hang in there. This will all be done soon enough,” Reyne said to their crew who had tensed visibly once they stopped.

The driver’s short steps made the walk long from the hovercraft into an unmarked warehouse. Reyne took quick glances behind him to see his crew antsy as they scanned the area.

Critch grimaced. “I’m starting to grow a serious dislike for warehouses.”

Reyne stopped at the doorway. “Try not to blow this one up.”

The pirate shrugged as he stepped around Reyne and inside.

The driver shuffled down an aisle with crates stacked along each side. Critch gaped. “Biome kits, air converters, rations. They could colonize an entire new world with this supply.”

“I’m more curious why they’re stockpiling,” Reyne noted quietly.

The old man motioned to the doorway at the end of the aisle. Reyne swallowed, tension cutting through the painkillers, heightening his senses. The doorway was wide enough that he and Critch stepped through together into the cube-shaped room, where a lone man stood.

“I don’t like this,” Critch whispered, his gaze darting around. “One door, no windows. This looks more like a cell than a meeting room.”

“Agreed,” was Reyne’s quick response, noticing their driver was nowhere to be found, and the door was now closed. “I’m starting to doubt Heid’s good intentions.”

Critch shot Reyne a wry look.

“Welcome to Alluvia,” the newcomer said, taking a step forward. “You’ve had quite the journey.”

The man stepped directly under the light as he scrutinized the crew. The Alluvian looked to be in his forties—around Critch’s age—which meant he was likely older than even Reyne. He wore a business suit and had slick, short hair. There was something familiar about him, even though Reyne was confident he’d never seen the man before.

The man continued. “You’ve brought me information that, if broadcast, would change the Collective forever.”

Reyne narrowed his gaze. “Yes, and you’re going to help us.”

The man smiled. “Of course. But we must be careful. The Collective is in a state of flux. You’ve all sensed it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be risking your lives. However, this is not the first time many of you have risked your lives. I wonder,” the stranger began as he slowly paced in front of the crew. “What two torrent marshals, working together again, bodes for our future.”

“We’re not here for sweet talk,” Critch gritted out. “Now, can you get us a reporter—with confirmation that it’ll be reported—or not?”

“You were always the headstrong marshal,” the man said, avoiding Critch’s question. “Following your gut first.”

“It’s kept me alive this far,” Critch said, and Reyne could feel the tension rolling off the pirate. “And it’s telling me right now that we walked into a trap. So, what’s to stop me from killing you right here and now?”

The man pursed his lips.

Reyne’s blood ran cold as the pieces fell into place. Mason looked familiar because he had the same eyes as Heid and carried himself much like she did. Or, rather, it would be the other way around, with Heid gaining those traits from her father. He recalled the pleas Vym had written to a Founder on Alluvia, and that Founder’s negative responses.

“You’re Mason,” Reyne blurted out.

The man straightened in surprise.

Critch motioned over his shoulder. “Birk, check that door.”

Birk yelled back a couple seconds later. “It’s locked, boss.”

The man’s features smoothed. “You know, there was a time,” he began wistfully, “that if a neutral learned of the Founders, it meant his death warrant. Despite that history, here you are today, meeting face-to-face with me, and you’re still breathing.”

Mason walked in silence for a moment before stopping. “You see, I was at Broken Mountain the night the Uprising was crushed. I arranged the meeting for the traitor and Corps General Ausyar, though he was a commandant at that time. I didn’t intend for Marshal Reyne to be discredited. My intent was for both marshals to perish in the battle to minimize the risk of the Uprising coming back before we were ready for it.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, you survived and my concerns are becoming a reality. But, it’s not yet time for the Uprising to begin again.”