CROWELL

12 I headed out with Forno an hour after Plenko told us the news that Heston Teska was real. He was a First Clan Helk like Plenko, living in a city outside Bestus we thought we’d be led to so we could find Plenko.

Wanting to lay low until he left with Dorie for Earth, Plenko sent word ahead to Teska we were coming, then saddled us with one half of the bookends from the porch as an escort and guide. The woman with the rifle was named Emma, and she was none too happy about chaperoning us; she left the rifle at the compound in favor of a blaster, but I imagined a scenario that involved her sitting behind us in the transport so we couldn’t see her, the ominous rifle never leaving her shoulder.

The transport was a four-seater hopter from Plenko’s compound. It was probably Teska’s, but it seemed that Plenko had the run of his place, and that included his transports. The hopter was good for short jaunts, city to city, and Teska lived in Gottelburg, a major city just two hundred miles west of Bestus. Emma piloted—there went the rifle scenario—and I took the back seat. Forno sat up front to her left. Although Emma was used to being around First Clan Helks, Forno could still knock her out the hopter window with one good pop on her jaw if needed. The hopter would crash, and we’d be dead, but Forno would think it worth it to get back at Emma’s smugness and constant grumbling about chauffeuring us around Barnard’s. I bet she really wished she could have shot us during that first confrontation.

The hopter, seemingly open air, was protected by a transparent bubble that in its rest state mimicked helicopters from 21^st Century Earth. It was smaller, faster, and more maneuverable, and the bubble morphed in the same way transport bubbles on TWT flights locked in both pilot and course through the jump slots, but without lockouts, trackers, and insertion equations. The bubble left its rest state and transformed to a shape of optimum aerodynamic efficiency, matching the hopter’s flight vectors, programmed to respond to changing atmospheric conditions.

Plenko sent us to Teska, he said, because Teska’s contacts in Gottelburg had located a Memor transport and had it hidden away. Teska and his men could operate in secret and Plenko could stay off the grid. We didn’t have to tell Rob, Emma, or anyone else in Plenko’s camp about why we needed the Memor ship, or anything about my ultimate mission, and the same held true for Teska and his men. To all of them I was just a nuisance. I had Plenko’s blessing, however, and that was all that mattered.

Teska would meet us on the outskirts of Gottelburg at an abandoned hangar that used to house surplus parts from damaged slot beams, wheels, and other discarded machinery from the jump slots. Those parts were huge, obviously, and they demanded a gigantic space. The hangar was empty now. Where all that shit had ended up, I didn’t know, and neither did Emma, but the result was a place perfect to house something huge you didn’t want seen, like a Memor transport capable of sliding sideways from an existing slot to an almost unguarded slot.

The hangar didn’t show up on most ship’s tracking systems, and was easily missed on visual, and that made it even more valuable for Teska’s little secret. I was reminded of Plenko’s House on Helkuntannas you could easily miss due to its clever integration into the blackrock cliffs outside Khrem. Of course, he’d also had a disorienting datascreen shooing off visitors. Teska had no desire to call attention to his hangar, and a datascreen was not subtle.

Emma maneuvered the hopter around the outer limits of Gottelburg and made her way knowingly to the hangar, the coordinates already locked in to her display. We were slowly losing light as the day wore on. By the time we’d left the city behind, only a scattering of homes and warehouses dotted the lush and green landscape that rolled and yawed beneath the hopter. I understood how a huge building like the hangar, in just the right place on one of the low points of a sloping hill, could go unnoticed.

As the hopter descended, Emma pointed out the hangar to the left of us. From my vantage point in the back, it took me a few extra seconds to parse what I was looking at as my eyes focused on the hangar, which was painted a forest green.

“Hold on,” she said, and she banked hard left and dropped the hopter down at the same time.

I said goodbye to my stomach. I was certain Emma had done that little maneuver on purpose; a moment later, Forno cursed. His fist curled and I envisioned that punch to Emma’s jaw again.

She made a deft roll right to flatten the hopter’s path, and an instant later, we landed next to the hangar, which towered over us, as if we were at the bottom of an old river damn. I couldn’t quite make out the top of it.

“Confirmed down,” Emma muttered, palming controls, and rolling back physical and virtual throttles. “Secure. Hangar One, Gottelburg.” She pointed out the front. “There’s Heston’s ride.”

I craned my neck, looking for a line of sight between Emma and Forno. Another hopter sat there, exact same model as ours, and it looked empty. Had he already gone inside the hangar?

Emma diffused the bubble and stepped out of the hopter. We followed, albeit at a slower pace, uncertain of what we’d find. Emma, though, walked confidently, almost nonchalantly, past the other transport to find the south door of the hangar.

“He’s inside?” I asked.

She shook her head, frustrated with us. “Jesus, where do you think he is?”

I didn’t think anything.

Forno slipped past me, taking the lead as we approached the hangar. Emma let us go by her, then stopped and motioned us to go on.

“I’ve done my bit,” she said. “That door’s for you.”

I reached into my coat and pulled my blaster. I heard Forno’s weapon power up right after. “Then you won’t mind if we remain cautious.”

She shrugged. Motioned us toward the door again.

The hangar door, green like the rest of it, blended in so well that only the visible cracks around the door gave it any contrast. I pushed it firmly, let it swing open, and signaled my favorite walking shield to proceed.

Forno ducked a little and disappeared inside. I followed, blaster powered up.

The lights were low, but I took in the huge room and its contents in a quick glance. Taking up most of the room was the Memor ship. It seemed too small for a vessel with slot engine capability, but then again, it was from the planet Memory. It might even be an advantage to have a ship small enough to slip through the cracks of security on either end of the slot. The sleek, chrome and brass hull recalled our first walk in Bestus, when we marveled at the infusion of alien tech and design aesthetics. Its swept-back fins were tucked neatly into its torso, and I whistled in appreciation at the ship’s preciseness, its simplicity, and understated beauty.

“You can whistle that again,” Forno said.

“Only to get Teska out here,” I said. I gripped my blaster tighter. It didn’t make sense how nervous I was about him coming out. “If he’s inside.”

“He is,” Forno said, pointing with his blaster at the cabin door. It was opening.

We raised our blasters as one when the door folded neatly in on itself and solidified into an access ramp with stairs up to the threshold. After a pause—a week’s worth, it seemed—a massive First Clan Helk appeared and descended to the floor of the hangar building. He faced us and inclined his head.

I lowered the blaster when I saw him. “Oh for—”

“Fucking Helk snot,” Forno said. “It’s happening again.”

“No,” the Helk standing at the bottom of the ramp said. “It happened years ago. The pattern was in the buffer. You just didn’t know about all the copies.”

Again, it was not Teska. Again, it was Terl Plenko.

“How many?” I whispered.

“No more than you’ve now seen. There were three copies.”

“That’s not right. The Movement leader, Brindos when he was changed, and Teska Not-Teska. You’d be the fourth.”

Plenko shook his head. “I’m not a copy. I’m the real Terl Plenko.”

I had questions, of course.

Plenko didn’t want to answer any.

Later, he said.

Now, I said, trying to be commanding.

No.

Instead, he insisted on showing us around the Memor ship: its controls, drive system—particularly the proprietary slot engine—and the overall layout. They’d stripped it down to the bare essentials, and the seating included just two command chairs at the controls, one more behind, and a Helk harness next to that. He wanted us to know the basics because we’d have little time to familiarize ourselves with the ship to successfully fly it through the slot (illegally, since there’d be no previous flight plan or schedule) and sideways to the target intermediary station (even more illegal), where we would put the Tarot cards to work, minus distractions from anyone or anything.

“You’re going to have to convince me you’re the real deal,” I said, “and that you really are working to help me, and not leading us all astray. What proof do I have you are you? What proof do I have your counterpart back at the Bestus compound isn’t the real you? Or that you’re both not copies, and Plenko has been dead all this time, as we suspected?”

Plenko smiled and nodded. “You’re right, you do have a lot of questions.”

“He’s good at questions,” Forno said. “You should answer some of them.”

Plenko inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the request. “I’m Dorie Senall’s husband, the original Plenko, but you’re going to have to trust me on that.”

“I asked you to convince us,” I said. “Trust is not proof.”

“I agree. But that proof will have to come from Dorie. Only Dorie knows me well enough to prove it.”

“She seemed convinced—or at least satisfied—that the copy at the compound was you.”

“I’m not sure she was,” Forno said. “She was struggling with it. She seemed uncertain. Maybe even a little frightened.”

“There,” Plenko said. “You see? You’ll have to trust me until then.”

I shook my head. “The plan we discussed—I mean the other Plenko and I discussed—means I’ll travel to the Ultra universe before I hear that proof.”

“That’s right. So call it faith, not proof.”

“What about your double at the compound?” I asked. “Seriously. Why are there two of you now, together, after all this time?”

“He was copied the same time the other copy—Plenko the Movement leader—was made. He came with us when Lorway took me from the Rock Dome. We were both hidden.”

“And what will he be doing during all this?” I asked. I was afraid for Dorie, suddenly, knowing she’d been left behind with a Terl Plenko copy.

“He’ll go with Dorie.”

“You’re sending the copy? That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” We were all standing near the Memor ship’s front screen, and now Plenko sat—or leaned—carefully on the control panel, avoiding the sensors. “Morgan’s client wants Plenko to pay for his crimes. No one knows about any other copy. They’ve only heard that I, the original, exist.”

“Tash,” Forno swore. “The copy is going to take the fall for you?”

“He’ll take the fall,” Plenko said, “he’ll pay for his sins, but he’s going to get a chance to find out who’s behind all this. See who the client is.”

He was going to sacrifice himself. It seemed an almost noble gesture from a Thin Man with knowledge of Plenko and a love for Dorie. A copy often retained memories and feelings of the original. Dave knew that firsthand.

“It’s not his first choice to give his life for me,” Plenko said. “He’d like to come out of this alive if he can, but we don’t understand the client’s motivations. We don’t know if my copy has a chance to survive or not.”

“I don’t like that this puts Dorie in harm’s way,” I said.

Plenko dropped his gaze, briefly hiding his face and, it seemed, his own worry. “I don’t either.” He regained his composure. “Morgan hired you, and he knows you, Forno, and Dorie left on this mission. One of you needs to come back with Plenko, and it must be Dorie. You’ll be gone, and Forno will be waiting for you to return. If you return.”

“I still don’t like it that Forno isn’t going with her,” I said. “I’ll be on my own after the jump slot. After he helps me, why can’t he go back and join them?”

Plenko shook his head. “They’ll already be gone.”

“They won’t wait?”

“Let me rephrase that, Mr. Crowell. They are already gone.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, but when it did, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I stared at him, but he avoided eye contact.

“They left for Osprey Station right after you came to meet Teska,” Plenko said. “To meet me. They’re back on the Sinai by now and headed for Earth.”

“Son of a bitch,” I murmured.

“Can we get back to discussing the Memor ship?” Plenko asked. “I’ve a lot to show you.”

Dorie and Plenko, alone at last. What would they talk about now? I wished I had a randomly placed, programmed marble camera in motion to record that conversation, but the last time I’d watched a holo-recording of Dorie, I witnessed her falling—the camera following her from above—one hundred floors to her death.