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Chapter Seventeen:
The Dire Price
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"I don't like this one bit," Irina's words were clipped with a tense edge. Jack glanced at her from the driver's seat of the car, the small hand held computer blinked faintly at him but he ignored it. The tracking device on Sark's car was working, but they couldn't follow too closely behind.
"Neither do I," Jack commented, shutting off the computer. He reached out one hand to stroke his wife's hair and she smiled at him faintly. Her eyes were dark with concern, the same he felt for their daughter.
"Do you have any idea what William is planning?" He asked, Irina knew more about the Rambaldi artifacts than Jack did. He could not fathom how all of this might tie together but the prospects were frightening.
Irina bit her lip and slumped back in the seat, the set of her shoulders was tense, she seemed coiled and tensed to spring. "William wants to bring down Sloane, I'm sure of that." Irina was lost in her thoughts and Jack watched her quietly, recognizing her pattern of thinking. If anyone could figure out this situation, it was her.
"We should call Vaughn," Jack said, his words filled with a tense fear. Irina shook her head, "No, he doesn't even know the cell phone is on him and if I call him now, William will know that it is me. I cannot call him when he is still in the presence of William, I must analyze the prophecy closer and try to determine what William is planning." Irina sighed and turned her head to gaze out the window. Jack knew that she saw nothing beyond the glass that reflected her own dark eyes as she struggled to figure out the situation at hand.
"The prophecy says that with their union, Sydney and Vaughn will be able to wield a power great enough to destroy Rambaldi's work. The only power I can think of that could do such a thing is in Sloane's possesion." Irina's eyes widened and she straightened in her seat, her gaze fixed intently on something Jack could not see.
"Oh, God. The Telling," Irina breathed heavily, her eyes landing on Jack with sudden intensity.
"What are you talking about?" Jack asked with growing concern. He frowned as he watched the way her hands fluttered nervously, her normally impeccable composure had vanished.
"The Telling machine was the device I was helping Sloane assemble. Six months ago he activated it and the results were disastrous. Sloane saw something he did not want to see. The Telling machine reveals the darkest corners of a man's soul," Irina shook her head. "It's very dangerous."
Jack gazed at her for a long time, "How dangerous?"
"We need to get to Sydney and Vaughn as soon as possible, they are trusting their lives to a very dangerous man."
Without another word, Jack started the car. The wheels spun up dirt in a cloud that lingered far after they had gone.
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The Covenant compound was a huge sprawling building that sat deep in the woods of England. Vaughn had accompanied his father here on a private jet from his office in Ireland, they had landed on a private air strip within the compound. William still had access to every area of the building, including the storage room. Vaughn felt the key card burning in his pocket, the one that would allow him access to the storage room.
The two of them sat in the plane as it landed, staring at one another in silence. William exuded an air of confidence which Vaughn tried to maintain, but there was a sinking unease in his heart. Black tendrils of fear crept over his heart like ivy over stone.
William leaned forward, "When I leave the plane, Sloane will be waiting for me. You must wait five minutes until we are clear of the landing strip and then go. The storage room is in a vault underground, on the basement level. It is very heavily guarded but all you need to do is show them this card and they will let you through. They know better than to question my authority, luckily most of the guards are in my pocket but if you meet with any resistance, do not hesitate to kill them because they will most certainly kill you, given the chance."
Vaughn nodded, his eyes scanning a blueprint of the compound, rapidly memorizing the area where he needed to go. "Where will you be?"
William pointed at an area of the blueprint, two floors above the storage room. "I will be in Sloane's office. It is on the third floor but you musn't come looking for me, when you have activated the Rambaldi device and retrieved the Telling machine, you must come back to the plane and meet me here. Michael," William gripped Vaughn's hand and he looked up to meet his father's eyes. "If I do not meet you within five minutes, you must leave without me."
Vaughn frowned and shook his head, "No. I'm not leaving without you, dad."
"You must," William's grip on Vaughn's hand tightened to almost painful intensity. "We are at the final steps of the journey, Michael, you cannot fail. You must activate the Rambaldi device and bring the Telling machine to Sydney. Do you understand me?"
Vaughn stared at his father for a long moment, conflicting emotions whirling in his heart. He had developed a strong attachment to the memory of his dead father for years, William Vaughn had been a role model for him. A perfect husband and father and now he realized, his father was only human. The love he still felt for his father burned deep in his heart and could not be extinguished easily, even with the distrust he had developed in the past twenty four hours of this new man that was his father. He could not imagine losing him now after just finding him again. Then he thought of Sydney, and all other emotions fell away but the deep love and devotion he felt for her. As much as he loved his father, he could not risk losing her. William was right.
"I understand," Vaughn squeezed his father's hand and smiled sadly. "Dad."
"Good," William stood up and looked out of the window on the plane. He could see Sloane approaching the plane in the distance. William glanced at Vaughn and nodded, "It's time."
Vaughn stepped back into the shadows of the plane, watching through the window as his father disembarked and greeted Sloane. The two men embraced briefly, like old friends reuniting, and Vaughn tried to quell the fear that his father might be leading him into a trap. The sight of Arvin Sloane sparked a fierce flame inside of Vaughn that had been burning for a long time. This man had destroyed Sydney's life so many times. Vaughn swallowed a wave of disgust and calmed himself, Sloane would pay soon enough.
He watched as William slung one arm around Sloane's shoulders and led him toward the compound. Vaughn waited for the guards to clear the area, checking his watch he counted down the minutes until he could make his escape from the plane.
Vaughn glanced out the window, checking his gun at his side and securing his long leather jacket over the holster. The guards were gone, making their rounds on the other side of the compound, Vaughn took the opportunity to slip out of the plane.
Staying well concealed within the shadows of the waning sun, Vaughn followed the course he had plotted out on the plane. The storage room was two levels down, two rights, one left, at the end of a long hallway. Crouching low in the shadows, he scanned the area for the door that would lead him to the underground level.
He merged with the shadows, hugging the wall as he stealthily crept along the wall to the door on the opposite end of the platform. Pulling the keycard from his pocket, he slid it through the lock and waited with baited breath for the light to change from red to green. His heart jumped in his chest as the light flickered for an instant, before changing. The door clicked open and Vaughn breathed a sigh of relief, slipping inside.
The hallway was brightly lit, white light reverberating off the walls, it led deep underground, fading into black in the distance. The silence was almost solid, broken only by the sound of his breathing and the echo of his footsteps as he moved cautiously through the hall. The walls were smooth and bare, Vaughn allowed his fingers to trail lightly across them as he moved deeper underground.
There were guards at the end of the hallway, he could see a glint of metal reflecting off their guns. They watched him in silence as he approached, his hands raised in front of him.
"What are you doing down here?" One of them barked out the question tensely. Vaughn retrieved the keycard from his pocket.
"I'm under orders from William Vaughn. I must be let into the vault."
The guards tensed, guns coming to rest level with Vaughn's chest. Vaughn halted just before them, watching as they exchanged nervous glances. Without waiting for any further movement, Vaughn launched himself at them. He gripped the ends of their rifles, pushing the ends into their chests as he did so. They collapsed with a grunt against the wall and Vaughn pulled out his gun, slamming the end into their heads. He heard the sickening crack of a metal against bone and the guards collapsed silently into a heap at his feet.
Wasting no more time, Vaughn broke into a run. He sped down the corridor, taking down every guard he saw in silence and stealth. He could no longer see the bright hallway, the way the guards slumped to the floor when he took them down. His eyes were bright with exertion, he could only see Sydney, naked, bleeding, her skin sliced open, the blood dripping like the sweat that beaded on his forehead. Any of these men could have had their turns violating her, he focused his strength on every single one of them. Their cries of pain, their shortened breaths were lost beneath the roaring in his ears. He could only hear Sydney's broken sobs, her voice calling his name.
At last he stood before the door to the vault, breathing heavily, a pile of unconscious guards at his feet. He was not sure if he had killed any of them but felt no remorse if he had. He could feel the sweat grow cold on his skin, the blood drying on his hands. The door was nondescript, a plain black portal but to Vaughn it seemed to be every door that he had opened in his life. The door was a choice that he had made long ago. His eyes cleared and the brightness of the hall around him seemed to vanish into the black paint on the door. It was like a black hole, sucking all the light around it into the depths of the darkness. It called Vaughn forward, his hand reaching up to touch the smooth surface. His hands were stained with blood and he was unsure how much of it was his own.
He realized for the first time, that he could enter this door and never walk back out. He could die in here, alone, without Sydney. His father could be lying, the device might not work, there were a thousand worse case scenarios that ran through his head and through it all, his driving force was the thought of her. They had fooled death so many times, it only took one mistake for the shadow to catch up with them. He gripped the keycard tightly in his hand and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He could hear her voice lingering in the back of his thoughts, he whispered to her aloud, repeating her words of only a few days earlier.
"No matter what happens, death itself cannot keep us apart. We always find our way back to one another."
His palm was splayed flat against the door and he heard a soft click, the door giving way against the force of his hand. He uttered a soft prayer to Sydney in case he did not get out of here alive, and entered the vault.
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"I have to admit, William, I was quite surprised to receive your call." Arvin Sloane leaned back casually in his chair. William stood before him, the large mahogany desk was the only thing between him and Sloane. He had to resist the urge to throttle the man with his bare hands, he had to give Michael time to activate the Rambaldi device.
"Though, as surprised as I was, I was also quite pleased. You have always been a good partner and a friend, William." Sloane stood and his eyes flickered to the briefcase William held. "I know that we have had our disagreements but we share a common interest in Rambaldi. I am coming to an end of a journey, William. I am glad that you are here to share it with me." Sloane gestured to the briefcase, "Please, I am intrigued by what you have to show me."
William tensed, his eyes flickering to the guards hidden in the shadows of the room. Sloane smiled faintly and with a flick of his wrist, dismissed the guards from the room. William relaxed visibly when they had gone and took the seat Sloane offered him. The two of them sat facing each other in comfortable leather armchairs, a low table set between them. A window on one side displayed the forest outside, it seemed dark and menacing as the shadows of evening dipped down lower than the tree branches. William studied the world outside for a long moment, gathering his strength before turning back to Sloane.
"I too, am reaching the end of a journey, Arvin." William spoke with carefully measured words as he opened the briefcase. "Our paths met at the crossroads of our journeys and only now do we see where the path will lead us."
Sloane frowned and leaned forward, sliding his glasses onto his nose. William watched him carefully as he unfolded the prophecy. He watched with some degree of pleasure as Sloane's eyes widened in shock, flickering from William to the prophecy on the table.
"Where did you get this?" Sloane demanded, all pretense of civility was gone now. The façade had fallen away and William saw the desperation on Sloane's face, the fear. William smiled in satisfaction.
"I've had this prophecy in my possesion for the past thirty years, Arvin. You never knew and now it's too late."
Sloane looked up at William with wide eyes, "William, what have you done?"
"I have brought the sacrificial lamb to the table, Arvin. My son is in the vault as we speak, he will activate the blue cube. Soon we will all be dead."
Sloane shot to his feet, visibly shaken. "William, you can't do this! Not to your own son!"
William slammed his fist on the table, his face contorting with rage. "I would rather see my son dead than used as a pawn in your sick game. What makes you think that you can control the future, Arvin?"
"William, if you allow this to happen, you will be killing your own son! This prophecy will never come to fruition and all will come to ruin."
William stood, trembling with rage. "Rambaldi destroyed my life, Arvin! Michael will use the Rambaldi device and everyone here will be destroyed. It will be over, at long last." William's eyes were glazed with madness and Sloane shrank back, away from him.
"William, if Michael activates the blue cube, we will all die here. What do you gain from suicide?"
William stepped closer to Sloane, madness visible in his eyes. "I know what I am doing, Arvin. Remember that I was the one who captured Sydney Bristow, you tried to change her into a different person but only I could see how the torture had failed! I was the only one who could see the end of this, Arvin, you could only see what was happening at the time." His words were rising in anger until he was shouting in Sloane's face. "I was the one who brought them together. You read the prophecy about my son, you should know that he has concieved a child with Sydney Bristow, the last chosen one. Even with Michael dead, the prophecy will be fulfilled. Their child will live to see the end of the reign of Rambaldi."
Sloane's eyes were wide with horror, he spoke in a low whisper in response to William's crazed rush of words. "Don't you understand, William? You know as much about the Rambaldi artifacts as I do, you're forgetting that the device was altered in the past century. It will not protect those with his blood, it will target all of them, including his unborn child. The heir to the Rambaldi prophecies will never be born, all your carefully wrought plans to bring them back together will be for nought."
William halted his advance on Sloane, fear creeping into the madness that veiled his thoughts. "You're lying."
"I am speaking the truth! Your will has turned to madness, William! You are destroying everything!" Sloane's words were edged with a note of hysteria now and he backed away from the other man as William advanced slowly toward him. There was a glint of madness in his eyes.
"You looked into the darkest corners of your soul when you activated the Telling, Arvin. You saw peace, when I saw only despair and destruction. This is the only way."
"There is still a matter of choice, William. Not everything is pre-determined. You can stop this before it is too late."
"It's already too late, Arvin. Our souls are damned for what we've done. The last thing I can do is free my son from the chains of his heritage and that is what I've done." William's eyes were like dark pools of oblivion, a glimpse into insanity. He had destroyed himself with his obssesion.
"I have made my choice."
It was then that the flames erupted.
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Vaughn entered the vault cautiously, a sense of foreboding hung over him. The air was thick with tension, in the center of the room was a pedestal illuminated by a single light. A golden ball, roughly the size of a globe was seated on the pedestal. Vaughn's breath tangled and caught in his throat as he recognize his father's description of the Telling machine. He drew closer to it, compelled by a force greater than his own will. It shimmered before his eyes like a mirage, water to a man dying of thirst. Something broke inside of him and he blinked, struggling to focus his thoughts. Retrieving a burlap sack from the floor, he scooped the ball into it, careful not to touch the gleaming surface. He slipped the device into the backpack he carried and slung it over his shoulder, looking around the room for the second Rambaldi device his father had described.
He found it on a shelf in the corner, a small blue box that gleamed with the same unearthly light as the Telling machine. Beside it was another box, red in color and identical to the other. He frowned and glanced between the two, his father had told him expressly the blue box was the one he wanted but he found himself drawn to the red one. His hand stretched out for it, fingers hovering above the metallic surface. There was something pulling him toward it, an unknown force that rose from the depths of his soul to transfix his thoughts. He found himself gasping for air as the world around him slowed to a stop, there was no time, no life, only his destiny hovering before his eyes.
His cell phone rang abruptly, the shrill noise breaking the silence and snapping him free from his trance. He glanced around in confusion, he had not been aware that he still carried it. Cursing under his breath, he searched his clothes for where the phone might be hiding and found it in his jacket pocket. He frowned as it rang in his hand, it was not his cell phone, it looked distinctively like Jack's in fact.
Flipping it open, he pressed it to his ear and whispered into the reciever. "Who is this?"
"Vaughn," the sound of Irina's voice filtered urgently into his ear. Vaughn stepped back away from the boxes and frowned.
"Irina? What the hell is going on?" He asked, confusion whirling in his mind after the tranquility of the trance he had just been in.
"Vaughn, you must listen to me. You are in great danger."
"I know that, I'm in the vault of Covenant headquarters, I don't think I've ever been in any greater danger." He heard Irina inhale sharply at his words and he wondered what was going on.
"Vaughn, you must listen to me. I planted this phone in your coat before you left to meet William, I did not want to call you while he might be around but the danger is too great. If you do not do what I say, you will die and so will your child."
Vaughn felt his heart plummet to the floor at her words, "How do you know about the child?" He hissed, fear overtaking all other emotions.
"Vaughn, there is a part of the prophecy I did not tell you about. It says that you will betray Sydney in your blood if you cannot pay a price."
Vaughn swallowed hard, listening intently to her words. "I would never betray Sydney."
"I know that, Vaughn. I know that you would not betray her willingly but you may do it without knowing. Listen to me closely, what are you doing in the Covenant vault?"
"My father sent me in to activate a device that will kill the members of the Covenant and leave us alive."
Irina gasped, "I was afraid of that."
Vaughn clenched his teeth and started pacing the length of floor in front of the Rambaldi devices. His eyes flickered ocassionally to the boxes and back to the floor in front of him. "What aren't you telling me, Irina?"
"Vaughn, your father has not told you everything. If you activate the wrong device, you will surely die. I have been trying to decipher the last part of the prophecy and I realized that there are two devices in that vault that are controlled by the blood of the one who activates it. Two boxes, one red and one blue."
Vaughn stopped short, staring at the boxes in front of him. "Yes," he whispered. "I am looking at them right now."
"Vaughn, one of those boxes will kill all who share your blood, including your child. The other will kill all within a two mile radius but the one who activates it. If you activate the wrong device, both you and your child will be killed."
Vaughn stared at the boxes, the feeling of foreboding that had hung over him like a cloud developed into a full blown storm. He was caught in the whirlwinds, he did not know who to trust. The lives of everyone he loved hung in the balance and someone would not survive.
"Which box will kill my child?" He whispered softly, he was dreading the answer though he knew it before it came.
"The blue one. Vaughn, which one did your father tell you activate?"
Vaughn sighed and dropped his head, all his suspicions confirmed. Tears welled up in his eyes and when he spoke, it was the voice of a broken man, defeated by powers he could not control. "The blue one."
"Vaughn! You must activate the red one or you will be dead."
The tears dripped onto the cold floor and Vaughn shook his head, "Then I will be killing my own father."
"Vaughn, your father will die no matter what decision you make. Right now, you must save yourself and your child. Do you understand me?"
Vaughn brought the phone away from his ear and closed it without answering. He could still hear Irina calling his name as he clicked it off, but in his mind it became Sydney's voice. Calling him from the dark recesses of her own soul, he could not fail her.
Pulling his pocketknife from his jacket, he flipped the blade open. His eyes were fixed on the boxes, they blurred in his vision as the tears spilled free in silent mourning. He could barely feel the blade as it dragged across his flesh, could not feel the blood welling up in the palm of his hand. He held his hand over the box and closed his eyes.
"One of us must pay the dire price, father," he whispered into the oblivion of the whirlwind that had taken hold of his heart, ensnaring his very soul. He felt his heart break apart as he pressed his hand down on the box.
The world erupted into flame, Vaughn's hands came to grip the box and he fell back on the cold floor. Crying in pain, he clutched the box tightly with both hands to his chest as he felt the agony of hundreds of men dying. Their bodies burned from the inside out, he felt his heart bursting with the rush of blood that filled him. He could see their faces imprinted on his closed eyelids. He could see the face of Sloane, staring challengingly at his father before the fire consumed him. He could see the face of his father, filled with madness and rage. The pale flames covered them all, burning with an intensity that filled Vaughn's soul.
He curled on the floor, wracked by pain, clutching the Rambaldi device to his chest. His blood was smeared on the floor, staining his flesh. He was a broken man who lay shuddering on the floor, weeping openly for what he had lost once more.
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Sydney bolted upright from the dreamy haze of sleep, crying out with pain. Sark glanced at her in alarm before slamming on the brakes. The car lurched to a halt and Sydney bent over, her head in her hands as the wave of pain passed over her. Sark placed one hand on her shoulder, gazing down at her with concern.
"What's wrong?" He asked, his eyes wide with alarm. Sydney shook her head and opened the car door. She stumbled to the side of the road, emptying the contents of her stomach into the trees. She collapsed on the side of the road, her face wet with tears and sobs wracking her body.
"Vaughn," she moaned his name, calling out to him though she knew he could not hear. The pain came from deep in her soul, and she knew with certainty that something terrible had happened to him. She could feel his fear, she could taste his pain, his sorrow.
Vaguely, she felt Sark kneeling beside her, cautiously rubbing her shoulder. The gesture made her cry even harder as she recalled the way Vaughn had soothed away her pain with just a simple touch. Sark's hands felt like fire, burning her flesh beneath the thin layer of clothing that protected her. She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself and shaking violently. "Vaughn," his name was a broken whisper, she said it the same way she had done so in the darkness of her cell. A prayer to the god of her heart.
Something was terribly wrong. Vaughn was in pain and Sydney could feel it, there were forces at work here greater than any she could imagine. The prophecy was unfolding beneath her feet, linking the two of them closer together than before.
Closing her eyes, Sydney prayed to him, urging him to stay strong. She would be with him soon, she could feel it. They had come now to the end of the road, there was no turning back from here.
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Vaughn stumbled through the compound blindly, searching for Sloane's office. All around him, men were screaming in pain, the smell of burning flesh smothered him and the smoke hung thick in the air. He dodged the flailing arms of a burning man that fell to the floor in front of him and continued running through the building.
He found the office soon enough, the door rose up before him out of the smoke and the flames and he gasped in relief. Shoving his weight against the door, he stumbled and fell to the floor as it opened easily beneath him.
There was no one inside, only two smoking piles of ash on the floor. The prophecy was cast aside on the floor, smoldering faintly at the edges where the flames had caught it. Vaughn collapsed on his knees before the ashes of his father. Hanging his head, a broken sob erupted from his throat and he dug his hands into the ashes. A guttural moan escaped his throat as he watched the ash sift through his fingers, the same way the ashes he had believed were Sydney's had floated so easily away from his hands. He pressed his hands to his head, rocking back on his heels as he turned his face to the sky. His hands were stained with blood and ash, the sky seemed to break above him, the pieces falling down to land at his feet. The pain he felt now was internal anguish, guilt and shame for what he had done. He had paid the price in full, he had sacrificed hundreds of people in order to save himself and Sydney. He wondered vaguely how many of those men had been innocent, who had never known the force of evil that they had been working for. He wondered if his father had ever been trying to help him or merely destroy him. He had no answers.
Bowing his head into his hands, he collapsed face first into the pile of ash, the last remnants of William Vaughn that remained. He wept openly like the child who had learned of his father's death at the hands of unknown traitor. He had only himself to blame now. He rocked back and forth slowly, his head banging against the floor through the filth. The sounds of his cries echoed off the empty walls, the dying screams had faded, the crackling of the flames was dying and he was the only survivor of this bloody massacre. A slaughter by his own hand.
Michael Vaughn had collapsed, he felt the sutures begin to rip, the world was tearing apart at the seams. The carefully stitched fabric of his existance, that had only just been repaired by Sydney's gentle hand, was tearing free. He knew nothing but anguish as he pounded his fists against the floor, crying to the heavens until his throat was raw. He was a broken man, once more. The world outside was grey and silent and Michael Vaughn was alone, with his grief.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
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