Chapter 2
We All Know The Show Has To End, Eventually
The first thing Arla did when she began her escape was to set off the automatic detonators. Everything had to be burned. This meant the few fuses to the conveniently located thermite canisters began ticking.
These fuses were long, as it gave Arla a chance to get out, well before everything, fake equipment included went up in burning ash.
Taking a last moment to look out the observation window, Arla looked and saw that Marcon was gone, the patient had one arm free and a knife that they were using to try to cut through the remaining restraints. Apparently the guy wasn’t a lefty, as they were having a particularly hard time cutting through the cord with the knife provided.
Seeing that, and taking one last look at the monitors, she saw Marcon going to his store room and getting his equipment on.
KABOOM!
Suddenly a ground shaking explosion happened from the rear. Taking one last look at the monitors, Arla saw how the rear entry way had been the first to be breached, where the assault team then promptly triggered the first emergency defense.
That was the cue, that Arla needed.
At this moment everything was fine and going according to plan.
Exhale.
Despite the fear she was currently feeling, Arla couldn’t help but feel momentarily alive. This was different than the situations that her father had run her through. Normally it was done with her being caught mid-procedure, or at various stages. The fact that only now was the swat team here, and she was already in her bunker did she realize this was fine. She had time.
Taking a moment to calm herself, she steadied her hand, before pulling out the universal tether. This was the recording agent that proved the crime for both parties. Obviously given time Marcon and her own images would be blurred out, leaving only behind blackmail material of the patient who wished to get a second power awakened.
Powers were not illegal.
But when people could get those powers, or worse improve those powers outside of the various Awakening Guilds that controlled access to Awakenings, that was where the problem came.
The guilds were the ones who singlehandedly enforced the universal laws of governing and monitoring powers. By being a member of the guild you were monitored and most importantly owed a tithing of all earnings gained from the use of your power to the guild.
These guild dues were similar to what Arla had with her patients, but hers was straight off the top, before the guild got wind. And hers included Attribute increases, while the guild just took financial compensations.
A way around the guilds was through the military, at which point your ties to previous guilds would be broken. This was the main reason that Marcon had pushed so hard for Arla to go the military route, as it would explain why she was not part of a guild, nor why a bond to a guild didn’t exist.
Technically Arla was what was referred to as an unbound, making her one step above a known terrorist. The idea being that since she was unbound to any guild or military, she was obviously going to a new location to stir up trouble and get away with crimes that couldn’t be traced back to her. This was a theory that was backed by both history and a lot of lobbying from the various guilds.
This was part of why Arla knew that she needed to run.
In fact, she also knew that over ninety percent of her and Marcon’s problems directly related to her. This was why, when he asked for one last big score before she went away to the Military, she couldn’t refuse him.
Marcon had always been smart, seemingly able to make money or establish an existence anywhere. These were all processes that he had passed on to her. Not just how to con people, as that was a minor part. The main lessons he taught were how to survive on your own. How to improvise on the fly, and most importantly how to survive at all costs.
Looking at the bank of monitors Arla saw that everything was still going as per plan. With this she removed the mainframe that served as a handheld one stop shop for their overall security. Getting new monitors, new power cords and extensions, those were all easy to get. The only thing that would be hard to replace was this one component, which was why Arla grabbed it now, placed it protectively in her backpack and then began making her way down the escape shaft.
Light blue lights.
Fields of Air energy were active before her, a quick glance showed that the glowing air before her had the rune for Far Vision imprinted on it, seeing the power it was clear that this was slightly amateurish work. Also, the power was roughly D-Rank or maybe C-Rank at best.
Not much, but enough to cause trouble if they saw her and were able to recognize her somehow. That was why, placing her hand along the wall of the small tunnel that Arla had to crawl through, Arla used the Crafting variant of her Spirit Infusion power, and charged some of the disruption runes that were carved throughout the pathway.
These didn’t do much, other than provide light sources, and most importantly disrupted other energy from going through the same medium. It was a wave and energy issue, where elemental energy could go through higher power runes. Just as higher power runes could bypass lower power runes.
But what both had a hard time going through was neutrally powered runes, which was all that Arla could create. Not that this made working powers impossible, but it did disrupt the power being used.
In this case it took the C or D ranked power and lowered its efficiency so that it was completely useless. While this did show that someone was now in the tunnels, it didn’t tell which path in the tunnels Arla would take.
Right now, Arla could take a total of five exit points, each letting out at different spots in the nearby neighborhood.
Keeping her hand on the wall, Arla felt the connection and saw which way her energies were being pulled. So far it seemed that three of the five tunnels were being targeted, which meant so long as she was quick, she could use one of the final two tunnels to escape.
On instinct she chose the left of the two tunnels, not knowing if one or both would also be found, but only trusting in that they had not as yet started to probe these two tunnels, which were both the furthest away, and would require Arla to move the fastest to get to the extraction point.
Everything was going fine, Arla found herself thinking and forcing her mind to slow down as she raced through a myriad of alternate scenarios. But she trusted Marcon, if he had a plan, it would be good, and it would work.
These were the thoughts that came to her as she continued to push forward through the tunnels at a controlled and measured pace. Of course, Arla’s controlled pace would be sprinting by most people of her age.
Fortunately for her, she had been trained from the start as to know what was standard for someone her age, and what was exceptional. Marcon had also taught her the times to be exceptional, and when she needed to be mediocre.
Stolen story; please report.
This right here, a self-extraction event, this was the time for her to be exceptional.
This was why Arla let her body move at its fastest. Her mind and direction already made up, she felt herself crawling faster than most people could walk. She was moving so quickly that her clothes began ripping and tearing at the sudden stain. The tearing was fine, and almost encouraged as she would have to strip off these clothes, pull out her replacements, get redressed, use her final thermite stick to burn away her clothing and then leave the extraction point as quickly as possible.
Which was just what she did as she got to the exit.
Swoosh.
The subterranean seal on the universal ductworks that bound these older buildings together opened with a hiss. There had been a lock, but a few tricks taught to Arla by Marcon about such restraints proved invaluable as she was able to bypass the security measure in seconds.
Once up, she gave a quick scan around, seeing nothing. Then quickly began stripping off her now dirty technician jacket, her loose slacks, and her moccasin slippers, before putting on her form fitting space travel suits, and boots. Then looking around, she found an old metal trash bin in the corner. Seeing it, she moved over and placed her old uniform, shoes and clothing. Then giving a quick fluffing of her medium sized hair, grabbed any excess hair particles and placed them all in the bin. With that, Arla took out the removable hard drive, placed it in a custom seam that all space suits had for just such a purpose, the extra-large pocket that could be used to hide needed documents. In there, she felt the comforting sensation of her new government identity, along with the tell-tale rectangular shape of a one-way boarding pass.
Next to those two items she placed her memory stick, and a quick swipe of her hand and application of neutral energy later, the suit sealed up to be perfectly seamless. The sealing rune was a complex one of Earth and darkness that blended elements together to hide compartments just like these, which made the seals invaluable for space flight as they all but ensured a permanent seal was in place.
With everything in place and her hands now free, albeit covered in the black gloves of her suit, she looked fairly uninteresting.
Travel light, travel fast.
Smoothly.
The world seemed to be going by slowly, but that was just a mixture of adrenaline and Arla’s heightened Attributes at work.
Still, she forced herself to calm down, to breathe.
It was all too quick, too intense.
But she had done it, she had done everything.
She was finally rounding the block, needed to make a straight getaway towards the nearest star port, a place that would then lead her to a launch point in orbit. From there she would go to the first of many redundant rally points where Marcon would meet up with her and they would state their final goodbyes.
Tremor.
Just as she had the thought that she was free and clear, an immense pain filled her chest as she reached up and placed her hand over her heart. While bracing herself against the nearby wall with her left hand.
Panting.
There was an intense burning sensation as first one, then a longer burn erupted in her chest.
The pain she felt was excruciating, but she knew that she had to check one thing.
Then pulling up her interface she saw the message that she had been dreading.
Number of Active Symbiotic Relationships Active: 892 / 1,121
The counter of symbiotic relationships she held had been decreased by not one, but two.
“No, no…” Arla stammered, as she read the system message that was irrefutable.
Also, seeing as how powerful the snap was, both people had to have been close by.
A tear filled her eye as she instantly felt for a communicator, only to realize that she had burned the last one she had.
Pulse.
For the first time in her entire life, she felt alone.
No wait, she had been alone multiple times before and each time Marcon always got out. Mentally she went through the possible scenarios of what happened. One of the deaths was obviously the newly converted patient, being strapped down and only having their left hand free while trying to cut themselves free, they probably slit their own wrist open rather than getting freedom.
That meant the second was someone on this planet. Though planet was a bit generous, as this was clearly a partially terraformed organic satellite that was used as a way station between long space runs. A place to refuel if needed, fix an emergency configuration, or otherwise get out and stretch your legs. That was why it was so easy to get out of here, as there were multiple shuttle-stands that all took you to the singular launch point that would then take you to one of multiple liners that would take you to various star systems.
Part of the cover was that Marcon and Arla would both leave via different liners that were heading roughly in the same direction.
“Plan doesn’t change, the plan never changes,” Arla grunted with defiance, as she knew two things. First, she knew that Marcon was alive, while she wasn’t powerful enough to see who had an active symbiotic link with her still, she knew that nothing short of a direct nuclear warhead could kill Marcon, even then it was only a fifty-fifty chance of death.
No, he was alive, and she would meet him. If only to say goodbye and thank you.
Yes, with that done, she would feel complete and be able to move on and fulfill his last wishes.
He had high hopes for Arla. Not just a degree, not just a Master’s degree, but a full on Doctorate, something that could prove her value based on its own. Especially a Doctorate from a prestigious Military Academy, like the one in Maralla.
Regardless of whether he met up with her or not, she would go on to the Academy and await for Marcon to reach out to her.
And he would reach out to her. Even in the most secure facility in the star system, he would find a way to get her a coded message that only she would be able to decipher. She knew this, and that was what made her feel confident that the burning in her chest was not Marcon, it couldn’t be. With over a thousand people given a secondary awakening, it was impossible not to believe that she would run into one of them somewhere. The fact that one happened to die right after a second, well that was a harder statistic to stomach, but not one that was impossible to fathom. What was impossible to fathom and one that Arla couldn’t come to grips with was that Marcon could be dead. Not when he just got everything he wanted. Money, freedom from Arla, and a flawless escape plan.
“What will you do when this is over, and I am in the University?” Arla remembered herself asking.
Chuckle.
“That’s the great thing about youth, you can always imagine a better tomorrow if you just try harder,” Marcon replied.
“But we are there, your dream. Your goals?” Arla asked.
“You mean your dreams, and your goals. I need you to want them as much as I do, if not more for them to become true. Can you do that for me, focus on these dreams. Dreams where you are accepted for who you are and what you are. Dreams where you are so important that you can’t go missing. If you do that, then I will be able to rest in peace.”
“On vacation?”
Snort.
“Yeah, you could call it my personal vacation.” Marcon said in his way that clearly showed he was keeping most of his true thoughts to himself. Still, it was more than Arla had expected from Marcon.
Ding.
A timer went off overhead.
Arla didn’t know how long she had taken to recover from the pain of the rupturing of not one but two nearby sympathetic bonds, but it had apparently been a while. Judging by the time, Arla had to hustle to make it to her jump shuttle location.
This was fairly easy to make, but it meant that Arla wouldn’t have any time to prep. Meaning she wouldn’t be able to scout the area for anyone looking out of place.
Multiple people have a reason to look out of place at a jump shuttle stand. People from nervous space flyers to people needed to hustle to make secondary and tertiary stops, to law enforcement, to people like her and Marcon, people who were always on the run from others.
There were a multitude of reasons why people would look weird or otherwise stand out, but the people that didn’t stand out in some way, those were the ones to watch out for, for those were often the predators waiting to pounce.
Unfortunately, being so close to departure time, Arla didn’t get more than a cursory glance of the area and login area to see anyone.
With a quick wave of her hand she pulled out the rectangular shuttle pass. For planetary jumps there was no need for identification. Which was why her new passport with her new name remained in her suit.
By scanning the card, a band was made available, one that she could either string about her wrists or her neck. Arla not wanting to draw attention to herself placed it on the body part that 80% of all passengers used, her wrist.
With that she had exactly two minutes before the next shuttle that was already present would be fully prepped and ready to make the jump to minor-atmo.
With the ship not having to constantly suffer the sustained burns of entering and exiting atmospheric pressure, these ships could take on a lot more wear and tear than normal spaceships could. Also, given that this was a partially terraformed organic satellite, the atmosphere here was far less dense than other planets, meaning the safety regulations for these shuttles could be far more relaxed than on regular and large sized planetoids.
Still, looking at the ship with its numerous exhaust vents active and smoke coming out of different chambers, many of which were not meant for such conditions, Arla couldn’t help but feel slightly on edge about the flight.
However, her mechanical intuition told her that while the ship’s exterior had a lot to be desired, the interior would be more than capable of performing the needed task. At least that is what she hoped.
“First time flying?” A young male voice asked.
Pausing for a moment, Arla just stared at the boy, or maybe teenager, early adult at best. It was clear that this boy was roughly around Arla’s own age.
Seeing him, Arla scanned him once for any forms of bulges to his space suit or otherwise hidden compartments.
After a quick glance, it was clear that he didn’t have any associated firearms or known weapon bulges that Arla had been taught to look for. That said, the lack of a bulge didn’t mean this person couldn’t kill her if he tried. Arla herself looked completely unarmed and helpless, but with her secondary powers she was anything but helpless and had taken a life more than once.
Thinking back Arla almost let her mind wonder to the first time Marcon taught her the point of killing for survival. He also taught her to kill for the better of society, if she could help it.
Seeing the boy, Arla just let out a harumph, which seemed to be enough to dissuade the boy from making any more overt gestures in her direction.
“Now boarding, everyone waiting to get to the external planetary stations please step this way.” The conductor announced over the intercom.
Phew.
With that, Arla was able to relax slightly as she no longer had to deal with desperate attempts of some boy trying to pick her up. Not while shew as in the middle of an escape and rally procedure, and hopefully not ever. Boys and relationships in general were nothing but trouble, Marcon’s tenth rule.
With the awkward moment diffused, Arla managed to get on a section of the craft that was overcrowded enough to have people that would separate her from the new boy, while she could also get a clear visual of everyone in the vehicle.
Choosing one of the back seats, she sat down, buckled herself in and momentarily exhaled as she realized the seat next to her would be unoccupied. The boy apparently took the hint and sat with a few of his friends that he was apparently travelling with. While all of the others seemed to be family units with small children, couples, or otherwise paired singles.
“Last call, last call, last call.” The announcer stated.
Then just as the doors began to slide shut and Arla felt her mind relax slightly, she saw a man rush forward and brace the closing doors with his gloved hand.
Seeing the man, Arla’s eyes went wide with recognition as her breath momentarily caught in her chest as she saw the last person she wanted to see right now. For there in the flesh was a large military officer still wearing their SWAT gear, despite being on a public transport.
Then to make matters worse, the SWAT member scanned the car, then spotted Arla and immediately began storming towards her.
Instantly Arla who had been in a mostly calm state felt a rush of adrenaline course through her as her mind prepared for how to deal with this incoming officer.