He saw the two of them at Camelot. Aspasia’s Shadow as Mordred. Artad’s Shadow as Arthur. Duncan in the court, dressed in a white robe. The man in armor, next to the king.
Turcotte had an idea what was behind what he was seeing. Duncan and her partner had operated covertly, trying to manipulate the Airlia and their minions.
Then he saw a brutal battle, the dead and dying littering a field. Swords and spears covered in blood. Duncan’s partner taking a sword blow to the chest from someone wielding Excalibur. His ka damaged. Duncan dragging him on a travois back to Stonehenge, unable to pass his essence on to the regenerated body. Turcotte glanced over his shoulder at the tube holding the dead man.
Looking back, he saw Duncan in the mothership cavern at Area 51, but it was unopened, dark. She was sealing it with explosives. So she had tried to hide the truth, Turcotte realized. Why? And the answer came to him as quickly as he posed the question — because man wasn’t ready to challenge the Airlia yet.
Duncan in the ship. Standing over a man strapped to a table. Turcotte started as he recognized himself as the man on the table. She was doing something to his head. Turcotte’s hand reached up and touched where the MRI had detected the implant.
Turcotte stopped the screen and turned toward the tube holding Duncan. Quinn was right — she had never been who she said she was. He felt betrayed — as close as the two of them had gotten, she had still lied. Of course, would he have been willing to accept the truth at any point? Hell, he still didn’t know the entire story. Who were the Airlia? More importantly, who were we? Turcotte wondered.
He went over to Duncan’s tube. He looked at the buttons, then hit one that seemed likely. There was a puff of air escaping the tube, and the lid slowly lifted. He checked his watch. They were twenty minutes out from Mars. Artad might have already sent his message.
Duncan opened her eyes. She blinked for a few moments, reorienting herself. The severed arm was already half-grown back, the edge a mixture of raw red and pulsing black as the Airlia virus reconstituted the cells.
“Mike—” Duncan sat up, reaching her good hand out.
Turcotte took a step back, shaking his head. “We’re past that. You lied and manipulated me.” She sighed and sat still for a few moments, before replying. “I had to.”
“Why?”
She glanced over at the other tube. “I am sorry. I was alone for so long. And I needed help. After the mothership was uncovered and Majestic formed, I knew I couldn’t keep it under cover anymore. And that I couldn’t do it by myself.
“The Airlia. The truth. I knew a battle, this battle that we’ve fought, was coming.” “And what is the truth?” Turcotte asked.
She shook her head. “I’ve blocked it from myself.” “What?”
She climbed out of the tube without his aid, using her one hand to support herself. “These tubes — we took them from the Airlia when we defeated them on my planet. They can grow a new body. Transfer memories and personalities — the essence of a person, via the ka. They also can be used for deep sleep. But you can program them too. After he”—she once more looked at the other tube—“his name was Gwalcmai, my husband, I buried him near Stonehenge — that’s the body that couldn’t be reborn, I knew it was all on my shoulders. I also knew where my home world was. And the Ones Who Wait, the Guides, they were after me. Aspasia’s Shadow tried to track me down several times. So I blocked my own memory using the tube. Sealed off parts. My past. My home world. My memories of him. Of my son.”
Turcotte suddenly realized the pain she’d been in to do such a thing. He understood the need to seal off the information she couldn’t give up, but she’d also cut off memories that would cause her emotional pain.
“I want to know—” Turcotte began, but he was interrupted by Yakov appearing in the hatchway. “We’re less than ten minutes out. You need to suit up.” The Russian was staring hard at Duncan.
“What are you going to do?” Duncan asked. “We need you to help us,” Turcotte said.
“Of course.”
Turcotte took a step closer to her. “Not ‘of course.’ This is our plan. To free our planet from the influence of the Airlia once and for all. I killed the Swarm orb and freed you. If we can destroy this array and kill Artad, we’ve succeeded. Many people have died so far in this war. We need to end it now. I don’t know what your hidden agenda has been and I don’t care. Will you do what I tell you to?”
Duncan nodded. “My — our goal — was the same.” “All right. Here’s the plan.”
CHAPTER 20: THE PRESENT
Kelly Reynolds opened her eyes and immediately shut them, finding the bright glint of sunlight coming through her room’s windows unbearable. She heard someone shutting the blinds and tried to open her eyes once more.
“Take it slowly,” a woman’s voice said in a whisper.
Kelly opened her mouth to say something, but only a hoarse croak would come out.
Someone used a spoon to put some crushed ice in her mouth and Kelly allowed the chips to melt. The water felt wonderful sliding down her throat. She could see now. A nurse hovered over her, another spoonful of ice ready. Kelly gave a slight nod and the nurse put it in her mouth. She savored the coolness. Then she tried to speak again.
“Mike?” “Who?”
“Mike Turcotte. I need to talk to him.”
“You mean the fellow on the news? The one on board that spaceship going to Mars?”
Kelly weakly nodded. “I’ve got to talk to him. I know the truth. And he needs to know it too.” “‘The truth’?” Cummings asked.
“Who we are.”
The cruise missiles were lined up along the edge of the cargo bay, pointing forward. Kincaid had done the calculations and was now standing next to Yakov in the control room, giving him slight adjustments to their course as they closed on Mars.
Turcotte and half the Space Command team were crowded inside Duncan’s ship, which was still inside the bay. They had their TASC suits on, weapons ready. The armorer had done a quick patch job on Turcotte’s suit. Good enough for a seal. They’d off-loaded the two tubes in order to make room. Duncan was at the controls, programming in their course.
“Ready to put the brakes on,” Yakov announced over their tactical net. Duncan stood up.
“What are you doing?” Turcotte asked.
“You don’t need me here,” Duncan said. “I’ve programmed the ship — it’s called the Fynbar, by the way, after one of the leaders on my planet in the revolt against the Airlia — to do what you want. I’m more useful on the mothership.”
“That’s not the plan,” Turcotte argued, as she headed for the hatch.
“Trust me on this,” Duncan said. She paused looking up at him. “This is the end. I am sorry about what I did to you, but it was necessary. I hope you’ll understand that one day.” She reached up and touched the front of the black helmet, as if she could reach through and touch his face. “Good luck.”
Then she was out of the ship, the hatch shutting behind her and sealing.
“We’ve got the Talon on screen,” Yakov announced, startling Turcotte. “It’s closing on us fast.” “Do it,” Turcotte ordered.
Outside the ship, Duncan went into the main corridor, shutting the door behind her. As soon as it was shut, the outer cargo bay door opened. The ship lifted and exited.