A/N: Again, thanks to leathman for faithfully reviewing.
Chapter XI: The Enemy's Gambit
1 November 2998
"All right, how are we doing this?"
They were having breakfast in Imra's kitchen again, and Garth's question came as he set his bowl of cereal and milk – his staple breakfast – down on the table next to Imra. Rokk was sitting on the opposite side, directly across from the two of them, with a few holoscreens lying flat on the table beside his half-finished protein shake. He swiped some data across one of the screens.
"The Pulitzer ceremony starts at 1600, and it's being held at the Daily Planets."
"It's open to the public to attend," Imra put in as she stirred her yogurt in its cup. "We should have no problems getting in."
"Yeah, and neither will the killer," noted Garth. "You're sure you'll be able to recognize him?"
Imra nodded confidently. "Definitely. If we go earlier I can assimilate the mental signatures of everyone there, so I don't have to search through everybody's psyches to find him when he shows up."
"Rokk will need a disguise," said Garth.
Rokk nodded in acknowledgment. "I have a holoring I can use. I brought it so I could explore New Metropolis in my free time without being hounded by the press. All the Knights have one." He had recovered his belongings from the hotel the Magnetic Knights were staying the previous night.
"Everything all right with your team?" Imra asked. Rokk replied in the affirmative.
"So we're going to go to the Pulitzer event and keep our eyes open for anyone carrying a laser blaster aimed at the stage," Garth summed up. "What are we going to do when we find the guy?"
Rokk began to answer, but he was interrupted by Merriweather's sardonic voice issuing from the speaker on the wall.
"Imra, your mother is on the main comm. I will project the screen in the kitchen."
Imra's eyes grew wide. "Under the table, go!" she hissed at Rokk and Garth; they blinked in surprise until their brains caught up, at which point they scrambled hurriedly out of sight of the Ambassador on the comscreen that had just appeared over the dining table.
"Good morning, Imra," Sydne Ardeen greeted her daughter with a smile.
"Good morning, Mother," Imra responded, inwardly thankful that her mother could not read her mind over the communication line and learn about the two boys crouched under the table. "How are Father and Jancel?"
"They're well, but we've been hearing some disturbing news from New Metropolis, and I wanted to check on you to make sure you're all right."
"I'm fine, Mother," Imra assured her.
"Lon informed me that you and Lyle were at the Botanic Gardens during the laser accident," Sydne said with a frown.
"You know Lyle's a big fan of the Magnetic Knights. He roped me into driving him there to watch the game, and we got caught up in the drama."
"But you both made it out fine?" The concern was evident in her mother's voice.
Imra hesitated. "I got grazed by a laser," she admitted, "but it was a minor burn and it's completely healed now."
"And Lyle?"
"Well, neither Chief Norg nor I have heard from him since that day, but I think he's probably with EI. I hope."
Sydne nodded. "Yes, that's probably it." She exhaled. "I wish you'd come to Titan with me, Imra. It's a holiday week – you wouldn't have missed any classes. Your father misses you."
Imra cringed involuntarily. "You know why I didn't want to come."
"Yes, I know." Sydne sounded sad.
"It's all right, Mother – I have lots to do here, anyway," Imra said lightly. "I'll visit Father some other time."
"Do you want me to come back early?" Imra's surprise was plain on her face. "I'm worried, Imra," Sydne admitted. "With the recent murders – especially Mayor Fleming's – New Troy is becoming dangerous. I don't feel comfortable about the fact that you're alone."
"Mother, I'm fine," Imra said again. "Really. I can take care of myself – I'm about to graduate from the Academy, after all."
Sydne smiled. "Yes, I'll certainly be back in time for that. Maybe I'll convince your father to come with me."
"That would be wonderful!" Imra said with genuine delight.
"I'll try my best," Sydne promised. "I'll be back soon. Be careful, Imra."
"I always am, Mother. Bye."
"Bye-bye, Imra." The screen disappeared as Sydne signed off the comm. Imra huffed in relief as Rokk and Garth crawled out from under the table, shooting her curious glances.
Although both boys looked like they wanted to ask her about the conversation, typically, it was Garth who took the plunge. "What was that about?"
"My mother, checking in on me. She does that."
"I get that." Garth ignored Rokk's warning look for him to desist and plowed on, "Why didn't you want to go to Titan with her?"
Imra sighed. "Let's just say I have my own family problems."
Garth looked like he wanted to question her further, but Rokk's glare finally convinced him to stop prying. Imra either didn't notice or she pretended not to.
"That was close, though," she said. "Saturn knows what my mother would have said if she knew you two were here. Remind me to wipe Merriweather's databanks before she gets back."
"I'd rather you didn't," the AI said unexpectedly.
"I thought you said he can't talk unless you address him directly," said Garth.
"Well, the restriction programming doesn't seem to be very precise – he seems to be able to speak up whenever someone mentions his name."
"It would be extremely dull if I had to be silent all the time."
"Oh, shush." If it were possible for an AI to be sullen, Merriweather somehow projected it despite not saying a word. "Now," said Imra, "where were we?"
"I asked what we were going to do once we found the guy," Garth supplied.
"Oh, right. Well, do we want to be subtle or direct?"
"Maybe subtle?" Rokk suggested. "Try to corner him quietly without disturbing events?"
"Really?" Garth was skeptical. "I was thinking more of a hands-on approach."
"Like what?" asked Rokk. "Pumping him full of lightning?"
"Just enough to knock him out. We'd have no trouble with him after that, I can guarantee it."
"Garth, you don't quite have full control yet. You could kill him."
"Hey!"
"And," Rokk continued, ignoring Garth's indignant objection, "Let's try not to make a scene. We're not the Science Police, after all."
"Thank Nath for that," Garth muttered.
"So you want to be subtle, and you want to be direct." Imra indicated Rokk and Garth in turn. "I suppose the tiebreaker falls to me, then."
"Okay," Rokk conceded.
"I can live with that," Garth agreed. "So what's your vote?"
He checked his laser blaster before he left his tiny flat, scanning it meticulously for any damage or imperfections. As usual, it was pristine. Once he was satisfied that it was in working order, his eyes traveled to the small framed photograph on the dusty mantelpiece. Most people used e-paper and holographs in this century, but his family had always been able to afford only the most basic necessities, and e-paper was still more expensive than pulp paper. He didn't mind; actual paper and photographs gave him more permanent mementos to cherish with his family, who smiled up at him from the faded photograph.
"Soon," he promised, his voice soft and tender as he gazed at the last remaining keepsake he had of his once-happy family. "It's very close now."
He holstered his blaster on his belt and drew the flap of his coat closely over his waist to hide the bulge. He slipped out of his flat, not bothering to lock the door – he had nothing worth stealing – and made his way to the street. Public transport was free in New Metropolis, if one was willing to endure the crowded transport hubs and vehicles, which he was. He caught a sky train and was lucky enough to find an unoccupied seat near the door, where he sat, silent and watchful, not speaking to anyone. No one bothered him, and he liked it that way.
After several stops, the bland female voice of the sky train's AI announced that they were approaching the Daily Planets, and he stood, hands in pockets, ready to exit. As soon as the train pulled to a stop he was gone, breezing out the door as if he'd never been there. He kept his head high and walked boldly into the news building. His coat was plain, but respectable enough, and it covered the more threadbare clothes he wore underneath.
It was easy enough to find the large conference room where the New Metropolis Writers' Association was holding the Pulitzer award ceremony. He had timed his journey carefully so that he would arrive moments before the Pulitzer recipient took the stage to deliver her thank-you speech. His lip curled in disgust at the thought of her. Loretta Lane, another sorry excuse for a human being, leaning on the fame of her legendary ancestors and living off the misery and hardship of others – worse, writing stories about others' misfortune and winning prizes for it. What was the world coming to?
He was gratified to see that he had timed his arrival perfectly, and he slipped into the back of the room with no one the wiser. His hand fingered the blaster under his coat, and his eyes skimmed the room in anticipation. A frown creased his brow when he did not find his target on his first sweep through. Loretta Lane should have been standing beside the stage, but she was not there. He scanned the room again, more fastidiously this time. He was so focused on his task that it took several seconds for him to register what the NMWA chairperson was saying.
"…regret to inform you that Ms. Lane has taken ill suddenly and will not be able to attend the ceremony…"
He felt an unpleasant jolt of shock. Loretta Lane would not be appearing? How could this have happened?
In his peripheral vision he observed a red-haired youth who did not look like a New Metropolis native coming towards him, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to recall where he'd seen the boy before. The answer came almost instantly – the same redhead had been present in the Botanic Gardens when he shot Rokk Krinn. The boy's presence here could not be a coincidence.
He turned and began unobtrusively inching towards the exit while whispers broke out among the crowd about Loretta's 'illness'. He himself smelled a rat; someone was on to him, and had warned Loretta to stay away. What else could explain a reporter of Loretta's ego failing to appear at the highest moment of her career?
A blonde girl broke away from the main crowd and started approaching him; she was quite subtle about it, but he was watching for it and he noticed it. He noticed, also, when a dark-haired boy in a purple coat left his corner to edge towards him as well.
They know.
Without wasting any more time, he ducked out the door and vanished into the corridor.
"Well, we prevented a murder," Imra said bracingly. It was around 1900, and they were back in her house, in the living room this time. The evening news was playing across the virtual screen on low volume. "Loretta Lane is alive and the proud owner of a Pulitzer Prize."
"Yeah, but we didn't get the killer," said Garth. They'd searched as much of the Daily Planets building as they could, and even some of the surrounding streets, but Imra had eventually lost the psychic trace. Whoever the killer was, he was very good at disappearing.
"I think saving a life is more important than catching a criminal," said Rokk.
"True," Garth conceded, "but we need to catch him if we want to save more lives. We've reached the end of the list; we have no idea who his next target is."
"Maybe he doesn't have one?"
"That's not very likely," said Imra. "From what I managed to get from his thoughts, he's not planning on stopping with Loretta. He has one more victim in mind."
"Just one?" Rokk asked.
"One at the moment," Imra qualified. "He may decide to stop there, or he may continue."
"Which brings us back to the same thing," said Garth. "We need to catch him. Question is, how do we do it?"
"Well, for starters, I don't think subtly trying to corner him is going to work," Rokk pointed out. "I could've wrapped the door around him when I saw him today, but since we agreed we didn't want to make a scene…"
"Which, I point out, was your suggestion."
"All right, now I'm admitting that it didn't work." Rokk glared at Garth – without much real heat, it must be said. "We'll try it your way the next time we see him."
"If there is a next time."
Rokk decided to ignore that.
"Let's just sleep on it," Imra suggested. "It's been a long day. We can try to figure out who the next victim is tomorrow. I'm sure if the three of us put our heads together, we could come up with something."
"Yeah, all right." Garth stood up and stretched. "Dinner?"
"Sounds good," Rokk agreed, rising from his chair as well and offering his hand to Imra. "I'm hungry."
"Merriweather, prep the replicator," Imra instructed as she let Rokk pull her to her feet.
"Your wish is my command."
A/A:
1. No announcements today, except...reviews, please? ;)