Star Runners: Mission Wraith (#3) (29 page)

Austin handed over the tablet and nodded.
 

“Says you are mute?” she asked, studying him.

Austin offered a smile under his wrinkled skin but was unaware if she could see it. His heart raced. A cold sweat ran down his back. He blinked several times as the guard thumbed through his identification.
 

Please just let me through.

He had heard some of the veteran Star Runners talk about what the Zahlian government did to spies and officers caught behind their lines. Zahlian Agents liked to torture their captors to get them to talk. If the agents did not receive answers, the torture would continue for months until the prisoner died of exhaustion.
 

“Can you state your business here?” the guard asked, bringing Austin’s thoughts to the present.

Austin gestured for the tablet. When she handed it to him, he typed:

Religious business.
 

The guard glanced at the response and rolled her vibrant eyes. “Wonderful.”

She stared at the file for a long moment. Austin knew there was something wrong—there had to be. His eyes darted around the security checkpoint. If things went sour, he might be able to fight through the crowd and make it back to the
Taliford
One.
 

He looked up at the warship. You’re crazy, he thought. Even if you could make it to the ship, that warship, and its interceptors would swat you out of the sky. Calm down.
 

“Very well, Mr. Bakrah,” the guard said, making eye contact with him. “You are free to go.”

Austin closed his eyes briefly and nodded.

“Next!” the guard barked.
 

Austin passed through the security gate. The alarms stayed silent. He took a deep breath, his pulse calming. Ignoring a sudden wave of dizziness, he continued strolling toward the shuttles bound for the surface of Claria. For the first time in his life, he was about to set foot on a Zahlian planet.
 

*****

The shuttle trip from the port had been smooth and uneventful. Security guards loomed everywhere, but most seemed content on staring into compact holographic tablets attached to their palms or gazing off into space. None even gave him a second look.
 

The descent through Claria’s clouds to what the pilot called Zone Ninety was beautiful. Bright golden rays of light burned through gray clouds, illuminating the city below. A sea stretched off in the distance, visible through the haze of the city. High-rise buildings topped with multiple circular landing pads cropped up above the urban sprawl. Shuttles zipped across the skyline in no discernible order.
 

Upon landing, Austin quickly debarked the shuttle and made for the nearest elevator, as Vakar instructed. He had been told to walk to the north into the crowds.

“Keep walking,” Major Vakar whispered with a cough as he hurried up behind Austin. “There’s been a complication.”

“What? How?”

“Current events. Stay quiet and keep moving.”
 

Austin swallowed his questions and continued forward. Although he had never been to New York City, Austin thought the crowds on the streets of Claria’s Zone Ninety looked like Times Square. Masses of humanity flowed onto the sidewalks, everyone touching shoulders and pushing through in a hurry. Thankfully, many people went out of the way to prevent coming into contact with him. Some grumbled obscenities under their breath as he walked by, giving Austin all he needed to know about the status of the Originist Missionary here on Claria.
 

Austin glanced at Vakar, who looked like a businessman on his way to a meeting. They worked their way through the pack of Zone Ninety’s inhabitants. He nodded ahead.
 

“See that red building?” Vakar asked.

Austin craned his neck for a better view. He saw a maroon cylindrical building reaching high above the others. A luscious green park surrounded the structure, making it stand out from the surrounding properties.
 

“Yes,” Austin whispered.
 

Vakar nodded. “Room eight-nine-one.” His eyes darted toward Austin. “Move it. You’re being followed.”
 

“What?” Austin asked, but Vakar disappeared into the nearest store that looked like a coffee shop with bright neon signs around the exterior. Patrons in the window sipped on glowing hot liquids.

Austin quickly looked ahead hoping he could get to his destination alive. His heart threatened to burst from his throat. Pulling his bright purple robe around his shoulders, Austin quickened his pace. He tried to battle back the terrible thoughts rushing through his mind. Who was following him? How did they know he was here? What did they want to do with him? Why was Vakar leaving him?

Austin made his way to the maroon building. Intricate paths led through the natural park surrounding the complex. He couldn’t read the holographic sign floating in front of the building, but assumed this was an apartment complex of some kind. He stepped onto the path, felt the soft brown gravel crunch beneath his feet. Multiple water fountains were on both sides of the path. Colorful flower beds were lit by the daylight, producing the largest petals Austin had ever seen.
 

Kneeling down, he pretended to study the closest orange flower. He scratched his leg and took a sideways glance behind him. Two men stood on the sidewalk, staring in his direction.
 

He swallowed. I need to get inside, he thought.
 

Standing up straight, he walked as quickly as he could toward the complex without attracting attention. In the window’s reflection, he saw blurry images of the men stepping off the sidewalk to follow him.
 

Sweat trickled down the sides of his face as he entered through a twenty-foot tall revolving door made of glass. He nodded to other people leaving the building. Once inside, Austin stared up at the cylindrical innards of the complex. The inside was hollow, the atrium reaching up hundreds of feet. Exotic gold and green plants peppered the lobby. Four elevators lined the wall to the right. They were positioned behind a glass partition with a view of the lobby.

Move.
 

Vakar said room eight-nine-one. Austin hurried toward the elevator, but a man in a red blazer and a tiny blue hat nodded at him as he stood in Austin’s way.
 

“Need any help, sir?” he asked.
 

Austin shook his head sharply, negotiating a path around the man.
 

He stood in front of the elevator and pressed the top blue button. The doors parted, and he stepped in. The glass wall revealed a view of the exotic trees in the lobby and, more importantly, the front door of the complex. The massive revolving doors turned slowly. Austin held his breath.
 

The two men from the sidewalk stepped through and Austin got his first good look. Both were shorter, well-built and stocky, and wore black suits with red trim. They surveyed the lobby like predators searching for their prey. One man, his skin nearly as white as a sheet, hurried toward the front desk. The other remained at the front door, still as a statue.

Austin turned around and faced the control board.
 

“Welcome to the Asaga Life—Zone Ninety’s premier district,” a voice boomed over the elevator, sounding like an obnoxious used car salesman. “Would you like to know more about luxurious dining opportunities for this evening?”

Austin shook his head, studying the elevator’s controls. Symbols lined both sides of the wall, dozens of elaborate shapes and connecting points. They looked similar to Roman numerals. Starting on the left, he tried to count buttons as quickly as possible. Twenty total.
 

Breathing heavily, he searched for something that would indicate the number Vakar had indicated. Did “eight” as the first number mean eighth floor? Did these twenty symbols mean there were twenty floors?

“Not hungry?” the voice inside the elevator continued. “What about a massage? Our talented employees will make you ready for your next day on the job. Can we make you an appointment?”

Austin glanced to the front door of the lobby—his eyes locking with one of the men.
 

No
.
 

Turning back to the control board, Austin counted down eight rows on the buttons, hoping the room number corresponded with the level.
 

“You chose the eighth floor!” the salesman announced. “Would you like to make an appointment first? How about a nice shave?”

“No!” Austin yelled.
 

The elevator doors crept closed. He spun around; the men were no longer in view. The elevator doors seemed to move in slow motion.
 

“Come on, come on,” Austin whispered.
 

Five inches until they closed. Four.
 

“Did you change your mind about the shave?” the salesman asked, the voice echoing in the compact glass elevator. “Our barbers are the best in Claria.”

Austin sighed, watching the doors creep to two inches.
 

A hand burst through the doors, stopping them from closing. Austin backed against the glass. The man from the front door stepped inside, a confident and arrogant expression on his thin face. He was a little shorter than Austin but was built like a linebacker.

“Going somewhere, missionary,” he hissed.
 

Remembering his cover story, Austin shook his head.
 

The man tilted his head to the left. “Can’t speak?”

Austin shook his head.
 

Looking up, the man smiled. “I thought I heard you speak to the elevator. No?”

Austin’s eyes widened, his pulse quickening. He shrugged.
 

“Looks like you were going to the eighth floor,” the man said, pulling his hand out of the door. “Why don’t we go up and see what you were looking for?”

The elevator doors started to shut. A man rushed toward the doors. Austin blinked, realizing it was Major Vakar.
 

“Hold the door!” Vakar yelled, trying to smile.
 

“Take the next one,” the man barked.

Vakar stopped, and Austin watched the doors shut. That’s it, he thought, the operation is over. Whoever this man was, he would probably kill Austin when they reached the top.
 

“We’ve had our eye on you since you landed,” the man said as the elevator shot up into the insides of the building. Pulling up the black sleeve of his coat, he pressed his index finger to his thumb, and his forearm glowed blue, revealing more glowing symbols under the skin. “You know who I’m with. I’m Agent Cameron and I’ve been ordered to bring you in. We know what the Originists have been trying to do on this planet, spreading your nonsense throughout the Empire. But yesterday’s bombing crossed the line. You think people will listen to you now? There will be no more of your terrorist attacks here—not on my watch. Who are you working for? Are you meeting them here? Where is your cell located—in this building?”

Austin felt the tightness in his chest ease. They didn’t know the details of his mission here. Austin just needed to buy some time. He reached for his tablet to answer the man.
 

“Hey!” Agent Cameron barked, pulling a silver laser pistol from his coat.
 

Austin panicked, grabbing at the agent’s wrist. The man spun around, his back facing Austin as he struggled. The laser pistol fired twice, shattering the elevator’s glass. Cameron backed into Austin, smashing him into the control board. Cameron’s gun fell to the floor. He slugged Austin in the stomach. The air ripped from Austin’s chest.
 

“No!” Austin yelled. He gasped for breath.
 

“I knew it! You can speak!”
 

Cameron swung his elbow forward, striking Austin’s face. He moved fast, swifter than Austin could register. He turned around, facing Austin. He jabbed twice. Austin’s lip split. The taste of blood filled his mouth. Cameron gripped Austin’s throat, squeezing until Austin’s vision dimmed.
 

Austin fell to his knees. Cameron smashed Austin’s head into the wall. Austin shook his head, his vision darkening as the elevator came to a stop.
 

“I don’t know who you are,” Cameron said with the calm of someone ordering dinner. “But you are in trouble. Who carried out yesterday’s attack? Huh? We have ways to find out what we need to know.”

He turned around, his boots crunching the broken glass. He bent down to pick up his pistol.
 

The elevator pinged, and the doors opened.
 

Two flashes blinded Austin. He squinted, nearly closing his eyes. When he opened them, two small fires burned in Cameron’s chest.
 

The Zahlian Agent dropped the pistol to the floor, a stunned look on his face. His mouth hung open like a caught fish. He fell to his knees, glared at Austin, and fell forward onto his face. His skin cut on the broken glass.

Austin exhaled, looking up at the elevator doors.
 

A small woman, her jet black hair tied into pigtails arching over her head, stepped into the elevator. Holding a glimmering steel laser pistol over her head, she stared down at Austin with bright green eyes, her dark purple lipstick glowing as she smiled. She reached down.
 

“I’m Tia,” she said in a high-pitched voice.

“Huh?” Austin asked, his throat dry and head still spinning from Cameron’s attack.

“I’m with Vakar.” She extended her hand closer. “Come with me.”

Austin shook his head again. “How can I trust you?”

“You can’t.” She reached again.
 

Austin took her tiny hand and stood in the elevator. He shifted his weight, placing a hand on the elevator control board for balance. Staring down at Cameron’s body, he tried to slow his breathing.
 

“Come on,” Tia said, her voice deeper. “We have to move.”