John waved a hand, pointing to a corner. “He’s down this way. We’re nearly there.”
With Tim in tow, Sherri hurried down the hall towards him, and John couldn’t help but notice the troubled expression she had.
Does she feel what I’m feeling?
Alarm bells had been ringing in his mind since the lobby. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but it was there. His gut rarely steered him wrong.
But there was no going back. Not after all this.
John stepped ahead, looking into the hall around Nexus Quinn’s quarters, then sticking a head in the room, where Quinn was at his computer, as usual. His timer was tucked into his blazer pocket, as it had been the last John had seen of him.
It seemed as though this was the perfect opportunity to get in and lay out their cards. Prevent a catastrophe.
But it can’t be that easy.
Sherri rounded the corner, and John pointed to the door. She tried the keycard – and the door opened.
It can’t be that easy.
John’s chest tightened as the two travellers came face-to-face.
Quinn jumped back as he saw Sherri’s mutilated aura, with a wide-eyed Tim closing the door behind them after they burst in.
“Jesus Christ!” Quinn exclaimed, standing from his chair.
John exchanged a glance with Sherri. This was it. Whatever terrifying fate awaited them after this, now was Sherri’s final chance to make a difference.
“Don’t freak out, Quinn,” Sherri said, holding out a cautious hand.
Quinn’s eyes were wild. “Who are you?”
Sherri paused. “I don’t have time to explain, but if you value the lives of your wife, and your son, you won’t hand over that data.”
Quinn grabbed his timer and took another step back. “What happened to your eyes?”
“They were harvested for a Kromagg snack,” replied Sherri, looking intensely at Quinn. “And if you want Stephanie or Wade to keep theirs, you might want to rethink all this.”
Quinn’s eyebrows met at a wrinkled centre, his mouth hanging open. “Is that a threat?”
Sherri slapped a palm to her forehead. “I’m trying to tell you that these guys are bloodthirsty warmongers and you’re giving them the keys to interdimensional conquest. So maybe don’t!”
John watched, helpless, as Quinn and Sherri stared one another down, which he assumed must have been strange for Quinn, who couldn’t fix his eyes on hers.
Quinn broke away from the standoff, and began to pace nervously. “That’s not true. They want to share their technological advancements and medical skills.”
“They’re manipulators, Quinn. They’ll tell you anything to get what they want out of you, but they don’t for a second intend to hold up their end.”
In the corner of John’s eye, he saw Tim react to this with a subtle bite of his lip. John narrowed his eyes, as his uneasy feeling began to piece together.
“I think… maybe… we need to get out of here,” he said. Sherri’s eyes met his, and he could tell she was on the same train of thought.
Sherri held out a hand. “The crystal. Now.”
Quinn glared back. “How do you know about that?”
“Just give it to me. I need to destroy it before they get their hands on it.”
“No! It’s mine!” Quinn’s hands balled into fists. “I’m not even giving it to them. I’m giving them this.”
He gestured to the computer. Sherri moved her attention to it, and Quinn grimaced, as he realised what he’d just done.
Sherri lunged for the laptop, and Quinn began to grapple with her.
“I can’t let them have it,” Sherri growled. “Let me destroy it already!”
John was sure it was a riveting fight, but his focus was now on the open door, beyond the scuffle.
Oh boy.
“Don’t move a muscle. Any of you.”
It was a woman’s voice; the same woman John had distracted back in the lobby. She was flanked by soldiers, pointing their particle blasters into the room. Tim was against the wall, his hands in the air and his head down.
Sherri and Quinn stopped moving, both sets of hands high, holding tightly onto the computer. Sherri’s head swivelled to see the ambush, and she cursed under her breath.
In a last ditch effort, she violently yanked the computer from Quinn’s hands and held it in front of her as a shield.
“Careful with those guns, gentlemen. This is your precious data, right?”
The woman chuckled. “Well now, from what I overheard, Mister Mallory has some kind of crystal with the data on it? Is that right, Quinn?”
Quinn didn’t answer, merely looking at the woman with wide, calculating eyes.
She narrowed her eyes. “Shoot her.”
Out of pure instinct, John jumped in front of Sherri, but the particle beam passed through him, then through the laptop, and then into Sherri’s stomach.
No. No no no no…
* * *
Back in the warehouse, John’s shoulders slumped as he relived that moment of failure.
His audience, who had been so irreverent earlier, was now silent, all staring at him with sorrowful eyes.
“They… killed her?” came Maggie’s quiet voice.
John turned and met her eye. “No. But she would later wish it’d ended that way.”
He hung his head. “The wound would have killed her, but they wanted answers, so–”
“–They used the healing technique,” finished Quinn. “Right?”
“Yeah. They healed her, and that’s when the interrogation started.” He moved to a crate and sat on it heavily, his energy drained. “We tried multiple times to retrieve her… but, see, Tim told them everything. As soon as they knew about the aura, they did something to it that cancelled it out – adapted their existing anti-cloaking fields – and it interfered with the retrieval. Higgins couldn’t initiate the leap.”
Across the room, Sam looked pensive.
“That’s useful information,” he mumbled, staring into the distance, brow heavy over his eyes.
John rubbed his eyes. “I tried to keep her spirits up as they worked her over. They used every trick in the book; she never broke. I was so proud of her.” He felt his voice breaking.
“But, after they got Quinn’s data and successfully opened a wormhole, they decided they didn’t need her any more, and that’s when they…” He trailed off, losing the will to proceed.
He noted one of the previously silent friends of Sam was approaching; a woman who had been introduced to him as Doctor Beeks.
“Thanks for opening up,” she said, with a gentle smile. “If you ever need an outlet, that’s my job around here, okay?”
John shrugged, trying to look unaffected. “Oh, don’t worry about me.”
He stretched his arms, trying not to notice the psychiatrist’s pitying look. “So, what’s next on the agenda? Tea?”