Unity Carl Stubblefield (read book TXT) 📖

It determines your rate. My services are not exactly inexpensive…”

“The Aslan clan sent us.” Aurora admitted, her eyes betraying her distrust of the man.

A stormy expression darkened the cyborg’s features for the briefest of seconds, then warmed back to his used-car salesman grin.

“I… owe them some favors. I assume they gave you something to find me?” He held out his multi-tool hand; the articulated human hand folded back and an extension with a USB port and other connectors folded out in its place.

Gus fished out the drive and stepped up to plug it in.

“Aah, yes. There it is. Ooh. You must have done something substantial; this is a valuable marker. This pays off a sizable portion of what I owe, so consider me your humble servant. I do believe I can help you. If this person you seek is in Hinansho, I can tell you where they are. I am probably one of the few people who could do this, so the clan was wise to send you to me. Come, let us discuss the details and I will get started.”

Tempest stepped forward and Kenway motioned him to follow. The large throne, which was obviously a death’s head now that it was unoccupied, was a large helm with wooden spokes extending around. With an adjustment, the wheel rotated horizontally to form a table. The center irised open to reveal a large circular screen.

Kenway asked questions and added the information as the trio responded, just by holding his multi-tool hand over the screen. Panels and windows opened and closed as Tempest explained everything he knew about his wife’s absence.

After about thirty minutes of discussion and questioning, Kenway’s face looked concerned with the incoherent results on the crowded screen.

“Oh, dear,” the pirate said, rubbing his human hand over his polished bald head. “Ooh. That is not good.” His face puckered as if he had just tasted something extremely sour. “Not good indeed. For you, that is…”

“What is it?” Tempest pressed, hungry for any answers.

“Well, it seems that Mengele has her, you see…”

Gus shook his head, not recognizing the reference but gave a start when he saw the color drain out of Tempest and Aurora’s faces.

“Who is he? Dad, Aurora, snap out of it. Who is Mengele?”

When his companions couldn’t respond, Kenway explained. “Mengele has a… reputation for experimenting on his subjects. His specialty is exploring the limits of human capabilities. His methods are—well, extreme is too delicate a word. He is totally detached and amoral about how others feel. This allows him to pursue some lines of study which most would find, how would you say… unsavory?”

“He’s a damn butcher,” Tempest said, eyes staring ahead vacantly.

“True, true. That is an apt description. I am sorry, but you did ask. I can give you the coordinates to his last known whereabouts. This ‘Gwen’ was transported here on a research visa only a short time ago, and this coincides with my data on where Mengele should be. Are you still interested?”

Tempest reached a hand forward woodenly, still in shock.

Kenway slid a virtual file to Tempest and did an about-face. With a flick of his hand, the helm-screen went dark. “And that concludes our business. I trust that you can find your way out?”

Tempest nodded in a daze as he reviewed the contents of the folder, turning to leave. Aurora and Gus followed, and Gus kept looking back and forth between his shell-shocked father and Kenway, who had sat again in his massive throne and crossed his legs. He waved his fingers in an effeminate gesture of goodbye or dismissal, then leaned back, clasping his wrists and looking upwards in thought.

The supers left Kenway’s ship in silence and stood in the now crowded intersection as an assortment of people rushed by. The day was in full swing and more shops were open along the entire street as it had been transformed into some sort of outdoor market. Smells of various foods wafted in from different directions, as well as music and the shouts of people hawking their wares.

“Will someone tell me what this all means?” Gus demanded, looking to the dazed supers.

“It means that your mother may already be gone. Even if she is alive, she may never be the same,” Tempest croaked, almost breaking into a sob.

Gus looked at Aurora, who just nodded grimly.

Chapter Forty-One

We’re Not Gonna Take It

“Now what?” Gus asked, at a loss.

“Not much we can do until we meet up with the Crew. Coordinates are on the border of Hinansho. We can’t travel there by ourselves,” Tempest said, appearing to slowly come out of his stupor.

“I hate to ask, but if we’re going to be here for a while, do you mind if I do a little shopping?” Aurora asked. “I think there are some components I could really use to help find Gwen here.”

Tempest waved her off with a distracted wave. “We’re stuck here until the Crew finds us, go ahead.”

As Aurora threaded through the crowd, Gus’ eyes pinched a bit. When she was out of earshot, Gus turned on his father.

“What the hell, Dad? We just got this bombshell dropped on us, and her priority is shopping? You’re just going to let her go?”

Tempest came over and laid a hand on Gus’ shoulder. “We all deal with stress differently,” he said, voice still detached and aloof.

“Uncool. We have better things to do right now—”

“Do we? We may already be too late. If the stories I have heard about Mengele are even partially true… well, we need to think realistically.”

“Why aren’t you angrier? You’re acting like you’re a zombie. Doesn’t any of this make you upset?!”

“Of course it does! I’m still processing it, but what good would getting angry do? Gus, in my duties with Purple Faction, I have always had to keep a level head when others were losing theirs. In my experience, worry or bombast do little to resolve big problems. This, though…” He looked up at Gus with steel blue eyes, uncertainty there for the