Inside the Thunderbird, rocketing just above the jungle canopy, Ryan contemplated his past. He seemed to have two distinct histories. One he was beginning to remember. He had been in a different body-a fat, weak body plagued by fatigue. Still, he'd been a powerful man. Respected and rich. Important, until a terrible disease had tried to strike him down.
The other past was a mystery that he had no recollection of. These people had known him: Axler, Grind, Jane-in-the-box, and the others. He had been a warrior of some sort. Perhaps a thief. Certainly a dangerous person with a questionable sense of morality.
Random memories had been coming to him from his Roxborough past. Disjointed and without context. In one, he looked at the face of an elf slitch… What was her name? She wore a business suit, perfectly pressed, and her face was as hard as chiseled diamond. Immutable. She had short-clipped blonde hair and was an excellent executive. He respected her for that.
Sheila Blatavska. The name jumped into his head. CEO of the Atlantean Foundation-an organization that was more extensive and wielded far more power than it had a right to. It was dedicated to the rediscovery of lost civilizations like Atlantis, and in the course of its mission had discovered a number of ancient, and supposedly very powerful, magical items. According to his sources, Blatavska had major backing from elves of both the Tirs, and possibly from some dragons.
In the memory, she said, "I would like you to consider this trade. A few of the items in our inventory may be useful to your… predicament."
"And in exchange," he said, "you want permission to conduct archaeological digs in the two specified locations?"
A tight smile crossed her face. "I had hoped you might be able to make your cohorts reconsider my request to participate in the San Marcos dig as well."
"I'm sorry, I can't do that. My influence in that regard is minimal."
"But you control a large share of-"
"You seem to have an exaggerated view of my influence." Roxborough smiled. "Anyhow, forget about the San Marcos site. It's not available."
The elf merely nodded.
Roxborough continued, "I will send my head mage, James Meyer, to inspect these items you spoke of, and meanwhile, I will get you the digging rights for the other two locations. Deal?"
"There is another possibility," she said. "Yes?"
"Have your mages perfected the orichalcum tracing rituals?"
"Perhaps," Roxborough said. "Why?" "Well, to be frank," she said, "we haven't worked out all of the problems and were hoping to use the rituals soon." "What for?"
"Ah, my dear Mr. Roxborough," Blatavsky said, giving him a smile. "Do I detect interest?"
"What do you want the rituals for?"
"Dunkelzahn has been purchasing vast quantities of orichalcum through various fronts, and we suspect he is in the process of making something very powerful."
"And you want it." It was not a question.
"Of course," she said. "We'd like your help with the rituals… if your mages really can do the tracing."
"What do you offer in exchange?"
"We will show your mages how to perfect the spirit transfer that you so desperately crave."
The memory dissipated in Ryan's mind. When had that been? he wondered. How long ago? It frustrated him that he had no context for it.
Now, inside the rumbling shell of the Thunderbird, he took a deep breath. The tension of Axler and the team was
high, and that mood had infected Ryan. One missile hit, and they would all be indistinguishable from the shrapnel.
"Border guard is requesting security clearance codes," Axler said. "Put-up-or-shut-up time."
"Transmitting the codes now," came Dhin's voice. "Let's hope Jane comes through again."
"How're we hoping to get past their security?" Ryan asked.
"The codes were stolen from one of Aztechnology's own T-birds," Axler said. "Top level, according to Jane, and beyond question. I just hope they don't know that they've been copped."
"It's going to be a real short trip if they do," said Grind.
McFaren slept, or looked as though he was sleeping. Ryan knew that he could be projecting into the astral plane, watching for spirits or mages. The T-bird banked right and slowed a little.
"We're three klicks from the Canal Zone," Dhin said. "I'm bringing us over nice and easy, like Jane said." "The codes?" asked Grind. "Did they accept the codes?" "No data yet."
"Isn't it taking too long?" Grind said, his voice edged with anxiety. "They should've cleared us by now."
"Stay on course, Dhin," came Axler. "Don't stray until you see some offensive enemy activity."
"Copy," Dhin said. "Holding course."
"But-"
"Codes confirmed," came Axler. "Repeat, I've just got a routine confirmation."
Dhin came on. "Copy and second that. We're clear for exit from Aztlan."
"I don't like it. Too much delay," said Grind.
Jane-in-the-box's voice came on. "Neither do I. Stay alert, chummers. This could be an ambush of some kind."
"Copy," said Axler. "Staying sharp. Full radar sweep."
"Incoming fighters!" came Dhin's voice at full volume. "Repeat, incoming bogeys. We have company."
"Fragging ambush is right!" yelled Grind. "There are four Azzie warbirds vectoring in."
Axler interrupted, "They'll try to take us down on this side
of the border. So as not to risk international war in the Canal Zone."
Jane's voice filled the cabin. "Plan Beta," she said. "Immediately. Go to Plan Beta." "Acknowledged," said Axler. "Copy." That was Dhin's voice.
Ryan was thrown into the hard foam of his chair as the T-bird banked abruptly right and opened up to full throttle. Jets screamed as they angled south toward the Gulf of Panama. He pushed himself upright in the chair. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked.
"Can you operate a minigun?" came Dhin's voice over the speakers.
"Not sure," Ryan said. "I think so."
"Then get back with Axler and Grind. Sit in the cupola and fire at the enemy when they come close enough."
Ryan moved into the rear compartment, which was slightly smaller than the central chamber and rilled with more equipment for monitoring adversaries. Axler sat at a console, keeping track of the defensive weaponry while Grind sat on a tall seat, looking out through the clear macroplast of the assault cannon's cupola.
The minigun's cupola was just aft from there. Ryan moved up the short ladder and settled into the seat as though he'd been born for the task. And as he looked at the controls, he discovered that he did know how to operate the gun. Instinctively he put his hands and forearms into the long, power-assisted reticulated metal gloves and practiced swinging the minigun's barrel around.
"Don't get comfortable, Ryan," Axler said. "We bail in two minutes."
"If we're still alive," said Grind.
"Right."
Ryan caught the radar tactical superimposed on the head's-up display and slued the big gun barrel around toward one of the incoming jets. They came fast, from near the border. Gaining on the T-bird, which was going full out toward the southern coast of the narrow isthmus. Ryan wasn't sure what Plan Beta was, but one thing was clear; the bogeys would catch up with the T-bird before it reached the
coast. And even if they did get to the bay first, they'd be easy to target over the water.
"One minute, thirty seconds to bail," came Axler's voice.
An alarm siren sounded. "We've been painted," said Dhin. "Hold on!"
The T-bird cut left suddenly, then dove into a narrow ravine in an effort to confuse the jet's missile lock. But the T-bird wasn't built to outrun a fighter; it was slower and less maneuvefable. Their only chance was to stay close to the ground and hope that the trees and hills would cover them.
Ryan strafed one of the jets as it flew by when Dhin abruptly decelerated. The minigun roared, a staccato barrage of sound as the heavy slugs flew. The tracer rounds formed a solid white line to show the path of the bullets. Then the jet was gone, and Ryan knew he had missed. It had all been way too quick.
"Sixty seconds to bail," Axler said.
"Launch!" cried Dhin. "We've got heat coming up our hoops."
"Can you hold it off until we reach-?"
Jane came on. "I've contacted the rebel mercenaries," she said. "They're in position and will wait three minutes before scattering."
Dhin was yelling now. "That missile is going to fry us in fifteen seconds unless Axler can take it out or confuse it." "I'm on it. I'm on it."
The ravine around them gave way to low hills covered by jungle. In a minute they'd be out over the water. Technically out of Aztlan. If they survived the missile hit.
"Chaff away now," Axler said.
Dhin pulled the T-bird into a short climb, and Ryan braced for impact. None came. But he didn't hear any explosion. "Blew past us," Dhin said. "Chaff confused its radar."
"Yes!" said Ryan. He found himself enjoying this.
"Don't celebrate!" Dhin said. "It's coming back around, and two more just locked on."
"Launch detected," came the computer.
"Bail in ten seconds," said Axler, standing up from her console to step into the central compartment and open the side door. Wind rushed in, and the scream of the T-bird's jets rasped in Ryan's head.
Grind and McFaren joined her, ready to jump. "Move, Ryan, move," Grind said. "We've only got one chance at this."
Ryan climbed down the minigun cupola and stepped up to the open side door. The jungle sped by just beneath them, the top of the canopy nearly brushing the base of the T-bird. The T-bird slowed suddenly, hovered for a second, then dropped. Ryan's stomach lurched as the big machine fell precipitately, down into a small clearing in the jungle that had been covered with camouflage netting.
"Now, Ryan, jump!"
Ryan followed the others out the side door, and Dhin came close behind them. Throwing himself out head first. Falling, falling. An odd feeling of deja vu crept over Ryan as he fell, as he flipped slowly in the air.
Falling, he saw the T-bird's huge jets spew fire. The machine lifted suddenly and accelerated into the sky, trying to continue its course southward. It didn't even reach the edge of the clearing before three missiles impacted with the reinforced steel frame, ripping it open. Blowing it into flaming hunks of red-hot metal.
Gone in an instant of violent chemicals. Vaporized.
The explosion's fireball singed Ryan's hair as he tucked himself into a ball. Shrapnel and sparks rained down around him. He landed in a huge camouflaged net, suspended from the trees at the edge of the clearing. The landing wasn't soft, but he was no worse for it. No bruises, no scrapes.
When he rolled out onto the jungle floor, he saw that he and the others were surrounded by men and women in jungle camouflage. Mercenaries, Ryan guessed. The rebels that Jane had contacted. One of the meres draped a poncho over Ryan's shoulders to hide him, and they were off through the jungle.
As they walked, Ryan catalogued their guides. He guessed there were no more than fifteen meres, most of them unaided by cybernetics or magic, but all well-trained in combat and field techniques. Axler told Ryan that these mercenaries worked with smugglers who brought in contraband from ships in the Canal region, across the border for eventual sale in Tenochtitlan. They were just as happy smuggling live contraband the other direction for some extra pesos.
Ryan heard the jets fly over once or twice as they hiked the kilometer to the border, but he couldn't see the aircraft through the jungle canopy, and he suspected the jet riggers would have just as hard a time spotting the camouflaged meres. The jungle canopy was just too dense. They slowed to a snail's pace as the undergrowth thickened up ahead, and as Ryan watched, the people ahead of him simply disappeared through some sort of veil. Vanished into the shadows.
Then Ryan too passed through the illusion. On the other side was a steeply sloping ravine covered over with vines and trees and undergrowth. It would be nearly impossible to see even without the magical illusion. The ravine cut down about twenty meters, the path at its base surprisingly level and well worn. Until it became a paved passageway. Concrete and cinderblock formed walls on either side and finally they entered a tunnel.
There was a guard at the tunnel entrance who detained them momentarily, speaking with one of the mercenaries before allowing them though. The underground passageway got them across the border and into the Panama Canal Zone. Out of Aztlan.
Axler stayed close to Ryan during the journey. She seemed to be in good spirits as the meres gave them new clothing to change into-California navy uniforms. They would be disguised as personnel operating off the Exeter helicopter carrier. Axler explained that California Free State had no navy to speak of, but its ships had been kept in use by the government and could be "rented" by the highest bidder. In this case, that meant Jane.
Their journey on to the Exeter went without a glitch. The mercenaries left them at a narrow beach on the south coast, where a small helicopter picked them up and flew them out over the water. Ryan was exhausted, but he felt almost safe again, though he didn't know why he should. The flight to the deck of the ship was brief, and as he stepped out of the helicopter, he was surprised to be greeted by one of the officers.
She was human, standing nearly as tall as Ryan. Broad shoulders and black skin. Her hair was cut utilitarian short. "Are you Quicksilver?" she asked.
He paused for a second, considering. Then he said, "Yes, I think so."
"Telecom for you," she said. "Urgent from Nadja Daviar."
"Thank you," he said, but he was wondering, Who is Nadja Daviar?
"You can take it below decks," she said. "This way."
Ryan followed her, with Axler and the others behind. He felt safe for the first time in a long time. He hadn't really felt safe in the clinic, though he was still not sure why. She led him down into the ship, through gray metal corridors, past gray metal rooms, until she stopped at a gray metal door.
"In here, Mr. Mercury," she said.
He stepped into the room, which was tiny, with only a narrow bunk and a fold-away tabletop. There was a telecom screen built into a wall, however. He touched the screen to activate it.
A woman's image appeared. Elven, with pale skin and black hair. She was beautiful and commanding. Deep green eyes sparkled under the sharp lines of her black brow. "Ryan," she said. "I've been worried about you, even though we agreed I'm not supposed to do that sort of thing." She smiled. "Are you all right?"
Ryan staggered back. She knew him intimately, that much was obvious. But he didn't remember her. There might be something familiar about her, but as much as he tried to remember, he came up blank. What had their relationship been? He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about her. Had they been friends? Lovers? He didn't know.
What he felt for her now was nothing. A void of emotion.
He could tell, too, that she would be hurt if she knew the indifference he felt toward her. And it scared him that he felt pleasure in withholding his feelings from her. It seemed to be true that the Ryan Mercury she knew would not lie to her.
But the new Ryan Mercury understood things in a different way. The new Ryan Mercury-the man with two pasts-knew that lying now might give him an edge in the future. This woman's concern for him, and his feigned interest in her, might just be the perfect way to manipulate her.