Threshold Shift (10 page)

Feeling
restless, Jon used his Espirnet implant and deputy pass code to link
into the Jail’s security system. The various camera displays
appeared in his field of vision. He selected each one in turn,
zooming in on the Threshians stationed around Main Street. He counted
seven of them at ground level, two of whom were attempting to hide in
an alley, whilst five sat around a table outside The Colonial
Captain. He guessed there were many more he couldn’t see,
higher up, peering through windows, watching and waiting.

Jon
sighed heavily. He was letting his imagination run away from him. He
was anticipating more trouble than the evidence suggested, seeing a
Threshian on every corner. The threat was real, but he had no reason
to make it worse than it was. He considered breaking his connection
with the cameras when he spotted Asher Smith walking calmly down the
centre of Main Street towards the jail. Why now? The Threshians took
little notice of the man in the long brown coat. In fact the group
outside The Colonial Captain had just started another round of
drinks. Jon found himself wondering about his mysterious uncle’s
connection to them. Then he caught himself. Uncle? He had never
actively used the word before. His mother had been an only child, he
had never had any aunts or uncles or cousins, just his parents and
maternal grandparents. “Uncle Asher,” he said out loud,
his tongue catching on the syllables. The title felt strange,
unsuited to the disfigured man.

Why
now? Jon had told no-one Jacob was dead yet. He had not even
contacted the undertakers. Doctor Forbes may have suspected that the
time had come, but he couldn’t imagine Forbes contacting Asher.
There was no way his uncle could know

A
security alert glowed red in Jon’s visual display. He
deactivated it with a single thought and opened the door.

“Hello,
Jon,” Asher said, ignoring the gun aimed at his chest. “I’ve
come to pay my respects.”

Jon
stepped aside. “Come in.”

Asher
blinked, drawing attention to his own bloodshot and dilated pupils.
Jon also noted the frown lines that had appeared at the bridge of his
almost nose where none had existed before.

“Thank-you,”
Asher said, walking past.

Jon
watched his uncle casually fall into his father’s chair. It fit
him perfectly. Locking the door and resetting security, Jon motioned
with his gun, keeping a firm grip this time. “How did you
know?”

“I’m
very sorry, Jon,” Asher replied. “Truly I am, he was my
brother, but he was your father. I can only imagine what that means.”

“I
repeat,” Jon said. “How did you know?”

Asher
smiled wanly, his lips a little more capable than Jon remembered. “I
was a physician once, I could see the signs. Your father confirmed as
much to me before you arrived. I knew it wouldn’t be long.”

Jon
nodded as Asher wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “Excuse me,”
his uncle said. “I was not expecting to lose him.”

Jon
holstered his gun. The man did not appear to be a threat, in fact, he
shared a common loss. “Can I get you anything?” Jon
asked.

“Most
kind,” Asher replied. “A glass of water would suffice.”

Jon
poured him one, refreshing his coffee cup at the same time. Asher
received the glass gratefully. Jon sat himself down in his own chair,
cradling his cup, letting the warmth spread through his fingers and
his palms. “I have questions,” he said.

Asher
drained his glass. “By all means, ask away.”

“My
father’s parents,” Jon said, “your parents. Where
are they?”

“Our
parents are deceased,” Asher replied. “I have one other
brother. Neither he nor I would object to Jacob being buried here.”

“Thank-you,”
Jon said. “Should I expect him for the funeral?”

“I
am afraid not,” Asher answered. “He is… far away.
No, you must be content with me representing the family.”

“Right,”
Jon said, sensing how carefully Asher was choosing his words. He
raised his cup to his lips, suddenly aware of how rich the flavour of
the coffee was, and how many different flavours he was sampling.
Asher’s face drained of colour as Jon drank and then he
breathed in deeply, wide eyed, half-smiling.

“Are
you all right?” Jon asked, putting down the cup.

“Just
the smell,” Asher explained. “May I go upstairs and see
Jacob’s body?”

“Sure,”
Jon replied. “He’s just up... How did you know?”

Asher
smiled contritely. “Jon,” he began, “why would he
be anywhere else?”

Jon
stared into his uncle’s face, he could see a little bit of
Jacob there, the outline of the nose similar but incomplete, the lips
the same shape, but thinner, the eyebrows the same thickness, the
ears the same size. He even had the same thick black hair. How old
was Asher Smith? He could see his father in there, but the age was
wrong, Asher couldn’t be much older than he was. But the time
dilation effect of interplanetary travel could easily explain that.

“Please,
Jon,” Asher pleaded, meeting his eyes. “Let me see him.”

Jon
nodded, eliciting another thin smile from Asher.

“Thank-you,”
Asher said and rose from Jacob’s chair. Jon watched him climb
the stairs with mixed emotions.

“I
won’t be long,” his uncle declared.

“He
wouldn’t tell me anything about you,” Jon said. “No
matter how many times I asked about you.”

Asher
paused on the staircase, gripping the handrail with more force than
was necessary.

“I
have a right to know,” Jon said.

Asher
did not reply, instead he disappeared up the stairs, leaving Jon
feeling more perplexed than he had ever felt before.

*

Jon
activated the micro camera in his father’s bedroom, watching
from above as his uncle entered the room. Asher Smith did not cross
the room straightaway, instead he picked up Jacob’s dirty and
discarded clothing, folding it neatly and stacking it in the
wardrobe. After that, he binned old food cartons, washed out Jacob’s
glass and wiped down the sink in the bathroom. When this was finished
he reached for the window by the bed, and vainly struggled to open
it. Rubbing the bridge of the nose he almost had, Asher gave up, and
with a grimace, kneeled down at the bedside. With a careful reverence
the disfigured man drew back the blanket that covered Jacob’s
face.

“You
look at peace, brother,” Asher whispered.

Leaning
his elbows onto the side of the mattress, Asher clasped his hands
together, closed his eyes and appeared to pray. Jon couldn’t
hear any words.

After
a few minutes the disfigured man opened his eyes and wiped his face.
“It did not have to be this way,” he said, rising
carefully to his feet. Asher took a deep breath and then placed his
right hand on the dead man’s forehead.

“You
lived an interesting life, Jacob,” he said. “I will do my
best to respect your wishes, but I nevertheless I have a temporary
need.”

Jon
watched with interest only for Asher to remove his hand and look up
straight into the camera lens. No! Jon closed the link, feeling as he
had been dealt a blow. How could Asher have known?

Minutes
later the man in brown descended the staircase. “Thank-you,
Jon.”

“You
knew,” Jon said. “You knew I was watching.”

Asher
shook his head. “Were you?”

“How
did you know?”

“I
didn’t, Jon,” Asher replied. “How could I? But I do
not blame you. You do not know me, you do not trust me. I hope in
time that will change.”

“I
don’t think so,” Jon said.

Asher
leaned casually against the edge of Jacob’s desk. “I have
your best interests at heart, Jon. That is why I feel it is time to
give you some advice. It will save your life.”

Jon
leaned back. “Let me guess, you want me to let Paul go.”

Asher
nodded. “Will you?”

Jon
shook his head. “Of course not.”

“There’s
no point keeping him,” Asher said. “With Jacob dead, you
are the only witness who would testify. No-one else will. You can end
this now.”

“If
what you say is true,” Jon said. “Michael will want me
dead regardless.”

Asher
smiled. “No, I have arranged safe passage for you. When you
leave Threshold, Michael will bear you no ill will. It is that
simple.”

“What
the hell is going on?” Roe interrupted. She was standing at the
top of the basement staircase.

Asher
ignored her. “What do you say, Jon?”

Roe
marched across the office. “You’re him, aren’t you?
The brother, uncle, whatever? “

“Yes
Roe,” Asher said, his gaze fixed upon Jon. “I was just
telling my nephew that once Paul is released, this will be all over.”

“They
murdered Jacob,” Roe said, interposing herself between them.
“Don’t you care?”

“I
care that he is dead,” Asher answered. “But the
Threshians didn’t kill him. He did that to himself, as well you
know.”

Jon
couldn’t see her expression, only that she drew her gun, aiming
it at Asher’s chest. “I don’t want you here, get
out.”

“I
cannot protect you, Jon, if you keep him here,” Asher said.
“They only delay their attack out of respect for me.”

“It’s
not his decision to make,” Roe said, waving her gun
haphazardly. “I’m the Senior Deputy until the Marshal
gets back.”

Asher
gritted his teeth. “The abomination growing in your basement is
not my brother.”

“Good
as,” she countered.

Suddenly
Roe was slammed into the far wall of the jail. Jon found himself
standing, his gun gripped tightly.

“Stop
pointing a gun at me!” Asher ordered. “I’m your
family.”

“Please
don’t make me use it then,” Jon said. “Now, get
out.”

Asher
stared at the gun, shaking his head in frustration. “They
aren’t going to wait, Jon, I’ve done all I can.”
Ignoring the weapon, Asher barged past him and pulled at the locked
door. “Open this!” He ordered.

Jon
pressed the plate and watched Asher storm out into the midday sun.
Holstering the pistol he locked the door and ran across to Roe. “Are
you all right?” He asked.

She
cradled her head in her hands. “What was that?”

“A
weapon,” Jon said. “A trick my father called it. I’m
sorry. I should have searched him for it.”

He
attempted to help her up, but she pushed him away and staggered over
to Jacob’s console. “One hour to go.”

“Jon
linked into the cameras. There were no Threshians to be seen anywhere
in Main Street. Where were they? The overhead lighting dimmed
suddenly only to be momentarily restored.

“There
goes our mains supply,” Roe said. “The generator’s
kicked in.”

Jon
watched each of the camera displays resolve into white static, only
once catching sight of a Threshian marksman.

“They’re
coming,” Jon said. “Help me with these.” He took
one end of his own desk, and Roe took the other. Together they hauled
it in front of the door. The remaining two desks were tipped over,
Jacob’s console destroyed in the process. Jon ignored it. The
console had done its job. The regeneration was happening regardless.

“The
walls are reinforced polymer,” Roe said. “But the door
isn’t.” She handed him a rifle from the weapons cabinet
and took one herself.

“Get
downstairs,” Jon ordered as he took position behind one of the
desks.

“I’m
not leaving you.”

“If
the worst happens,” Jon said. “Well… we can’t
let them rescue Paul.”

“You
want me to… “

“No,”
Jon said, “I don’t want you to, but you might have to.”

She
stared at him for a moment and then nodded.

“Go,”
he said, and watched her run down the stairs. He suddenly realised
that, just for a change, she hadn’t protested. A few seconds
later a text box appeared in his field of vision.

In
position. Enabling vision share.

Accepted.
Enabling vision share.

Accepted.

Jon
was instantly aware of Paul, clawing at his bars, his mouth opening
and closing as a rifle pointed at his chest. He minimized Roe’s
point of view to the right hand corner of his sight and waited.

Outside
he could hear the familiar heavy gait of Threshian footsteps. He
aimed his rifle directly at the door, and then ducked down instantly
as it exploded inwards. The desk before it was sent careening to the
side, and he recovered himself quickly enough to fire a few shots
into the space. He hit nothing because there was nothing to hit. The
Threshians had waited for a reaction, hoping to take him out with the
explosion. Where had the Threshians acquired gas weapons? He coughed
hoarsely, trying to cover his mouth with his sleeve. From Roe’s
point of view he could see that her eyes were on the stairs, not the
prisoner, and that she was coughing too. Using his implant he
activated the jail’s extractor fans and fired randomly into the
smoke. When it cleared, he saw two Threshians collapsed in the
doorway, and a third close to the desk he had sheltered behind. They
all wore masks.

He
waited for the next wave, but nothing happened. In the silence that
followed he painfully removed the door splinters embedded in his face
and arms. The silence didn’t last long.

“Jon,”
a vocoder intoned loudly. “Jon Klein!”

“Yes,”
he shouted in reply. “This is Klein.”

“Release
your prisoner and you will not be harmed.”

“No
thank-you,” Jon replied. “If you attack again, we will
execute our prisoner.”

“Unacceptable,”
the Threshian declared. “You have five minutes to comply,”

Roe’s
text box opened.

What’s
going on? She asked.

-
They want us to surrender.

We
aren’t going to, are we?

-
Definitely not, do you have a medical kit down there?