Stones (Data) (18 page)

She is a blur of color and then gone.

The colors come together to form a dark jungle.

He trudges through it, sensing black shapes just out of sight. The smell of burnt sulfur burns his throat. He starts to run, and the shapes pick up his scent. Low growls and hisses get closer. They’re hunting him. He’s running, stumbling, tearing through vines, breaking branches, splashing puddles of dark slime underfoot. A spider web catches on his face. He lifts his hand to wipe it away. The shapes are just behind him. At the edge of the jungle, he breaks free from the dark leaves into an open field of golden grain. A lone oak tree stands in the distance, and he bends his line toward it, running for his life. Ten yards behind, a dozen dark forms burst out from the jungle wall, trailing broken branches, torn vines and leaves. He glances back at them as he runs. The dark hulks are getting closer. They appear as large anthropoid apes, covered in dark hair, running on hind feet and knuckles brushing against the ground. His heart is bursting out of his chest with every breath. Lungs on fire. It can’t last. He’ll drop from exhaustion. The oak tree is just ahead. With all the bark stripped off, it’s white and dead, like a candelabra with arms reaching to the sky. When he gets to it, he stops to catch his breath and presses his back against its smooth surface, facing the dark shapes. There are too many to count. The one in front lunges through the air toward him, white fangs bared. He looks into its eyes and, for an instant, it morphs into the face of a withered old man. Then his hands fly up as he prepares for the moment of contact and death.

Something brushes against his arm.

“W
hat the hell is going on?” The middle-aged co-tech shakes his head and mumbles under his breath.

Lines of laser sharp lights outline instrument panels, knobs, gauges, levers, graphs and bluescreens inside the dark cockpit of the transport.

The co-tech looks up. “Jack, I’m getting those crazy readings again. Altimeter says we’re flying high enough to orbit the moon. Any idea what’s going on?” He yawns and looks at the old man to his left. “Second time it’s happened tonight. Maybe we have a faulty battery. InterCommand says we better check it out before we get slapped with another fine. You know how the company hates those.” The co-tech shakes his head with a lazy smile.

The old man nods without looking up and slides a finger across the bluescreen in front of him. A string of numbers appear below a graph. Above it, there’s a schematic of the inside of the transport aircraft with a slice of the middle section highlighted in red.

The co-tech turns. “What does the Beta Electronic Tertiary System say?” He speaks slowly and deliberately, emphasizing each word as it rolls off his tongue.

“BETSY says it’s an EM disturbance centered in the cabin, somewhere between rows 50 and 65. She can’t identify the type of signal, just the approximate location.” The old man scratches a spot of gray hair. “Whatever it is, its power is off the charts. Definitely bigger than a jax-jammer.”

“Maybe BETSY needs to stick to flying the plane and have her memory crystals cleaned.” The co-tech reaches over and grabs half a donut off a plate and shoves it into his mouth. “It’s probably a kid up there with one of those new m-jackers.” He swallows and then belches. “I heard they can intercept messages within a hundred-meter radius. Not sure how they could get it through the security portal, but I’ve seen stranger things.”

“Better go check it out.” The old man settles comfortably in his chair. “BETSY doesn’t like it, whatever it is.”

The co-tech exhales. “Will do.” He stands up and picks a scanner the size of a shoe off the wall and walks out of the tail section into the darkness of the cabin up ahead. Hundreds of jax holoscreens glow like luminescent jellyfish in a black sea. The scanner automatically activates as he passes seat 50. He slows down, glancing carelessly from side to side as he goes.

He moves past the seat where a young man is sleeping, arm hanging out into the aisle, dark hair down to his shoulders. An overstuffed backpack sticks out between his knees.

Worthless idiot
, the co-tech thinks.
Get your arm out of the aisle so people can walk by.

A red light pops up on the scanner. The co-tech pauses and begins walking backward. Stopping just to the side of the sleeping young man, he stares into the scanner, eyes large with excitement. Executing a quick turn, he brushes the young man’s arm in the dark.

The arm shoots out, as if animated by a sudden jolt of electricity, startling the co-tech. The young man’s eyes open. He bolts upright and pulls his arm in.

“What the hell?” The co-tech looks up and hears the sound of his own voice in the silence of the cabin. He stands beside the young man, staring down at the scanner, and shakes it. Then he lets out an audible sigh and walks back to the cockpit at the tail of the transport.

“Good job.” says the old man as the co-tech stumbles back into his chair and drops down. “Looks like you found it. The disturbance is gone. Everything’s back to normal.”

“Yeah, it stopped all right.” The co-tech has an uneasy smile on his face. “I never did see who or what it was. The scanner blanked out just before I pinpointed the source.” He picks up a slate and begins to tap on its surface. “I’ll send in a quick report to satisfy IC.”

M
att reaches between his knees and opens the main compartment on his backpack, feeling around for a pack of gum he put on top. His fingers brush against a hard object, freeze and then slowly wrap around it.

In utter disbelief, he brings it out of the backpack and stares at its light blue glow. A tingle creeps down his spine like a beetle.

The rock.

How did this get into my backpack? Impossible.

With a quickened pulse, he feels an urgency to breathe. Inhaling deeply, holding to the count of ten and then slowly exhaling, he closes his eyes and methodically traces his memory of the last few hours, replaying the details in his mind. He sees himself walking through the security portal and getting stopped by the officer. The officer empties out his backpack and finds the rock. They scan it. Ask him what it is. There’s a quick discussion.

The guard says he has to keep it.

Everything goes back into Matt’s backpack, and the officer hands it back as he stares down at the rock in his hand. Matt runs off to the gate.

Without the rock.

“What the hell’s going on?” Matt mutters to himself in the darkness.

He gets a wary look from the woman sitting next to him.

There is a sudden need to talk to Jess, so he pulls out the jax and balances it in his left hand. The rock rests on the palm of his right hand. With eyes jumping back and forth between them, he taps out a message to her.

Remember that magic rock the security guys took at the airport? Just found it in my backpack. Glowing a different color. Light blue. Can’t explain it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s following me around. Too strange.

He decides not to say anything about the dream he just had and sends the message off. The reply comes in seconds.

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that you’re not joking and you’re in full command of your faculties. Maybe the security guard just stuffed the rock in your backpack at the last minute? Did you watch him the entire time?

Matt thinks for a moment. He can see the guard holding the rock and walking away with it. Did it really happen that way? Is his mind making it up? He isn’t sure now. Maybe his gaze drifted to the other passengers while the officer put the rock back in. Maybe the officer had something else in his hand. Maybe Jess is right. His fingers play a reply.

Not sure.

A haze of confusion hangs around him, whether from finding the rock or just waking up, he can’t tell.

Two possibilities. The guard put the rock back in your backpack, or the rock is alive and following you around. Get a grip and be logical. And get some sleep. You’ll need to be sharp when you get to Japan.

Matt stares down at his jax. Jess is right. He leans back into his chair and stretches out his legs until they extend under the seat in front. His eyes slowly drop down, the rock still in his hand.

He tries to sleep.

“S
o, what did you think of our first big meeting about the Stones?” Ryzaard relaxes into the chair with his feet on the desk, hands behind his head. “I tried to give out just enough information to keep them motivated. Not too much. Not too little.”

Alexa is sprawled out on the red sofa. “You had them eating out of your hand. Hanging on every word. Now that they have a better idea why they’re working so hard, I’m sure the project will move forward with new life.” She brings the glass of champagne up to her lips.

“Do you think they believed everything I told them?”

“I didn’t see a shred of doubt in their eyes. I especially liked the way you handled your story about how you got the Stone from that holy man, Varanasi. Very convincing.” Alexa closes her eyes and takes a sip. A grin sweeps across her face. “For a moment there, I thought you were actually going to tell them the truth.”

“About how a Stone Holder
can
be killed to get his Stone?”

“Exactly.”

Picking up the statue of Zeus, Ryzaard brings it close to his eyes. “They are all good kids, but you never know. I did not think it wise for them to get any ideas about eliminating me and taking my Stone.”

“A stroke of genius.” Alexa opens her eyes. “I just never knew you were such a good liar. You’ve gotten better since I met you.”

“It helped that it was only half a lie.” Ryzaard sets the statue down. “It
is
difficult to kill a Stone Holder.”

“But possible.”

“Under the right circumstances, yes. It helps if the Holder is in a physically weakened condition. Then they can be finished off with a dagger. Just like Varanasi. But one has to know what he is doing.” Ryzaard rises from the chair and looks out the window. “Of course, all of that is our little secret.”

“Don’t worry. It’s safe with me.” Standing from the sofa, Alexa drains the glass and puts it back on the desk. Her eyes drop down to her jax. “Looks like you’ve got visitors coming down the hall, and I’ve got to get back to work. You’re keeping me very busy these days.”

On the way out the door, Alexa passes Diego, Jing-wei and Kalani as they walk into Ryzaard’s office.

Ryzaard stands at the window, following the diving arc of a peregrine falcon. Four hours have passed since their morning meeting. They’re an hour late.

As the falcon drops out of sight, Ryzaard ignores the movement behind him. The smile disappears from his face. He senses trouble.

The three of them stand in the middle of the office, waiting for him to speak, watching the muscles in his bare back twitch and ripple.

“What’s going on?” Ryzaard finally says. “Three of you come to my office. Safety in numbers? No doubt there have been complications in tracking the other Stone.” He turns and drops again into his high-backed chair to face them, feet on the desk.

Diego begins. “GPS numbers generated by the tracking algorithm were coming in as expected until about an hour ago when it abruptly stopped.” Diego traces a line on the wood floor with his eyes. “We had the location of the Stone narrowed down to the middle of the western United States, probably Colorado.”