Summerhill (36 page)

“I doubt I’ll be able to jury-rig any of the fighters,” Katherine called out as she broke into a brisk run. “But maybe some of them might already be armed up and I can hit their exposed weapon payloads or something like that. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Katherine made it out into the hangar first, with Summerhill right behind her. He didn’t see what made her skid to a halt next to one of the fighters, however, until after he crashed into her.

Off to the right side of the flight deck was a tall gantry, atop which stood a dozen black-clad Consortium guards, all carrying identical energy rifles, all of them aimed right at Summerhill and Katherine. In the middle of those guards, nearly twice as tall as any of them, was the six-eyed alien who had spoken with the Admiral. Its segmented tail was curled up above its hindquarters, like a scorpion, the tip glistening in the bright light.

“Katherine Tinsley,” it hissed, its wet, guttural voice even more unsettling in person than it had been over the viewing screen. “The Transdimensional Spacetime Integrity Enforcement Consortium has never been forced to execute a sentient being from your universe before the due process of a trial. Do not force us to sully our record.”

Despite having twelve people with guns drawing a bead on her, Katherine looked remarkably composed, Summerhill thought. He helped her scan the hangar, looking for any obvious target. There were a number of additional small fighter craft lined up, seemingly ready for launch, but none of the various crates, boxes, and barrels piled in the corners and lining the walls had any obvious markings to suggest that they contained hazardous or explosive materials.

“You are outnumbered. We control your escape routes. Desist in this futile attempt to evade justice.” The six-eyed insect creature’s mandibles dripped more than before, the secretions both thicker and louder. The separate sections of those mouthparts looked creepily like a pair of hands being wrung together in vile delight.

Katherine gritted her teeth. She still held her rifle at the ready, and she looked like she might be ready to go down in a blaze of glory if the Consortium creature taunted her much further.

Summerhill wasn’t going to give her that chance, though. He stepped up next to her, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the antique watch. “Actually, I think you’re going to let us go.”

All twelve rifles up on the gantry turned to aim squarely at the dog. The alien’s six eyes focused on him, each in turn, unblinking. “Unknown creature, your being aboard this vessel is in direct violation of Consortium law,” it said. “However, we are willing to offer a full pardon if you turn Katherine Tinsley over to us.”

The pocket watch’s ticking was very audible in the big, open hangar. Summerhill let it tick for a few more seconds, smiling all the while, before he responded. “You really have no idea who I am?”

“You are not listed in our records. Our quarrel is not with you.”

“Your records? Your records that cover everything that you run into across all space and time in all different realities?”

“Correct.”

“My name is Summerhill of the World of the Pale Gray Sky. Ring any bells?”

The six-eyed creature tilted his oblong head to one side. “You are not listed in our records,” it repeated.

“You sure about that? I’m kind of surprised.” Summerhill ran his thumb over the inscription on the outside of the pocket watch. “I mean, if Katherine’s time and space violations have you this riled up, I can only imagine the sort of trial you’d put on for me.”

An orange and green holographic screen appeared in midair beneath the alien’s four-clawed hands. It started to type away, but Summerhill couldn’t see the details on the screen from the floor of the hangar deck. “Our system does not recognize you,” the creature announced. “You have done nothing to warrant Consortium attention.”

“Maybe not yet.” Summerhill held the pocket watch even higher above his head. “But I promise you I will. How often do those spacetime records of yours update, anyway? Pretty frequently?”

Next to him, Katherine shivered anxiously. She turned her head and stared at him out of the corner of her eye. “Mr. Summerhill, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her hands shifted on the rifle grip. They glistened with sweat.

Summerhill stared back up at the gantry. He didn’t know who’d put the Consortium in charge or where their authority came from, but he’d seen enough of their methods and actions to know that any reality would be better off without them. In his mind, he envisioned all of the things he was going to do to help bring the Consortium down after he and Katherine got out of here. He would be the fish in the stream, swimming with the current, against it, jumping out of it, doing anything to keep a step ahead of the game as he brought their agency down, piece by piece.

The holographic screen interface turned a bright red. Summerhill couldn’t read any of the new words that had just appeared, but he recognized the image of his own face well enough. The alien creature let out a low-pitched, gurgling cry of alarm as a torrent of thick saliva spilled forth from its quivering mandibles. “Men!” it shrieked, waving its arm and making the holographic screen disappear. “Forget Tinsley! Orders are to neutralize the dog-creature on sight!”

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Summerhill yelled above the din as the dozen guards leaned further over the gantry and steadied their aim. “You take one shot and I press this button.” He stroked the tip of his index finger over the button that opened the hunter-case.

“And what is that supposed to be, exactly?” the six-eyed alien demanded.

“It’s a miniaturized singularity generator. The kind used by the otter-people of the planet Rydale in their war against the Akashic Realm.” Summerhill was willing to bet that this agent didn’t know every detail about every civilization across time and space without the help of a computer. “One touch of this button, and your whole ship will get torn apart.”

Katherine was still staring at him, and the blank look on her face seemed to silently tell him, ‘
You know that’s just a pocket watch, right?’

The six-eyed alien gurgled a laugh. “There is no such device.”

“You sure about that?” Summerhill asked. “I mean, until your records updated just a few moments ago, you seemed pretty sure I wasn’t anything to worry about, either.”

“We could destroy you before you had a chance to activate the device.”

“Yeah? Then why haven’t you done it yet?” Summerhill asked. “Is it because you know what I can do with those energy rifle blasts of yours? All I need is to buy myself a fraction of a second, and
click
.” He took a long stride forward. “And if your records on my activities are accurate enough, you know I’d sooner die than give up my freedom again.”

Several seconds passed without either side saying a word. The pocket watch ticked away, the sound filling the otherwise silent hangar. Summerhill’s left ear twitched as Katherine swallowed dryly.

The alien creature waved its arm to call up the holographic interface again. “We shall see,” it said as it began typing.

Summerhill looked back over his shoulder, quickly gauging distances. “Yes we will,” he said, and he tossed the pocket watch straight up into the air.

The twelve guards fired in almost perfect unison. Most of the shots went wide of such a tiny, moving target, and the one that did hit reflected off its spinning surface, ricocheting into the far wall.

More importantly, the other eleven energy blasts sailed right above Summerhill’s and Katherine’s heads and struck the fighter craft behind them.

The machine began to spark and fizzle, venting pressurized gases and liquids into the air. Warning lights and tiny alarm bells along the craft’s surface started to go off. The alien up on the gantry let out another wet shriek, the noise wordless and horrifying.

The spinning pocket watch came back down, and Summerhill snatched it out of the air right as Katherine shoved him from the side, causing him to stagger a few steps before she pushed past him and grabbed one of his hands to pull him along. She swung him by the arm into one of the launch tubes, then dove in after him just as the fighter craft exploded. Hot air rushed into the tube, and the dog’s ears rung and ached, but the two were safe from the impact of the explosion itself. The whole hangar bay itself shook, and then, a mere moment later, another of the fight craft exploded as well in a chain reaction.

For a moment, the flight deck went dark, and then the emergency lights came on. They alternated red and green, and whooping alert sirens rang through the open bay as the automated loudspeaker announced the disaster in a robotic monotone.

“Run!” Katherine shouted in Summerhill’s ringing ears, and she helped haul him to his feet. They darted out from the launch tube, a few stray energy rifle blasts going well wide as they ran out of the hangar bay the same way they came in.

Except that when they crossed the threshold back into the hexagonal corridor, rather than finding themselves in the hallway back to the transport unit they had taken here in the first place, they instead came out into an alcove with half a dozen single-occupant pods lining the wall, their doors already open.

Katherine smacked Summerhill on the back. “That was brilliant, mate!” she hollered, her voice clearly cutting over the emergency sirens. “Not so sure about ‘elegant,’ but hey, whatever gets the job done.”

Raising her energy rifle, she fired into four of the pods, frying their control panels. “I’m sure they’ve got more of these elsewhere on the ship,” she said, “but why make it easier for them, right?” She then walked up to one of the pods and began giving it a look-over.

“So then, where are these going to take us?” Summerhill asked. “Can we control them?”

“Probably not well.” Katherine wedged her rifle in between two of the consoles, into a space that looked designed for exactly that purpose. “Not that I’m an expert on Consortium technology, but I’m guessing these work similarly to the lifeboats on the
Nusquam
.”

Summerhill frowned. “Meaning that they’ll take the occupants wherever the on-board computer thinks they belong.”

“I’m afraid so.” Katherine patted Summerhill on the shoulder. “But don’t you worry, Mr. Summerhill,” she said with a broad grin. “If the world is as strange and nonsensical as I think it is, we’ll run into each other again someday.” She then leaned in and gave him a kiss on his furry cheek.

She turned back to the escape pod, then quickly spun back around. “Oh, and I need these back, actually,” she said as she grabbed hold of the dog tags around Summerhill’s neck. A quick yank broke the ball chain, and she stuffed the tags into her pocket before hopping into the pod.

“Thanks for saving me again, Mr. Summerhill,” she said as she got comfortable against the support cushion on the inner wall of the pod. “I’ll see if I can ever return the favor.”

Before Summerhill could say anything, Katherine pressed a button on the console next to her right hand, and the door to the escape pod slammed shut. There was a bright flash, and then the socket for the escape pod was empty.

Thirty-Six

Reminder

And so Summerhill was alone again. If he stood there waiting, though, he was sure to have plenty of company in the form of armed Consortium guards, so he shook off his feeling of dismay and climbed into the lone remaining escape pod.

After getting settled in, he took one last look at the pocket watch. A shadow danced over its reflective surface, and the dog looked up.

Standing in the middle of escape pod alcove was Arasiel, still in her purple dress and her purple high-heeled shoes. She puckered her bright red lips as she stepped up to the open escape pod.

“No,” Summerhill breathed. “No, not now. I did everything right. It can’t end here.”

Arasiel rested one hand just inside the escape pod hatch. Even in shadow, the vibrant cardinal fringe of her hair was impossibly bright. “No, Summerhill. Not for you.” She stroked the whiskers on one side of his snout, her icy touch making the fur all the way up his cheek stiffen. “But it
was
supposed to be the End for a certain someone else.”

She didn’t look angry, but somehow that made her scarier. “I... I’m sorry?” Summerhill offered. “I was just trying to—”

“I know what you were trying to do, Summerhill,” Arasiel said, brushing her fingers alone one of the dog’s ears, the chill of her fingertips just shy of painful. “Really, all you’ve done is delay the inevitable.”

“If it’s inevitable, then you shouldn’t be mad.”

Arasiel threw her head back with a brief laugh, then pulled away so that she wasn’t leaning into the escape pod anymore. “Oh, Summerhill. What would ever make you think I was mad?” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes with her long nails and stood perfectly upright. “I just wanted you to know that I’ll remember you did this.”