The Forgotten Prince Read online

  The captain began to work the arm, testing the movement. Small mechanical noises corresponded to the movement of the arm as it extended and retracted. The long, thin fingers flexed in and out, making a fist, then spreading wide. If it hadn’t been for the mechanical sounds the arm made as it moved, Lewis might have thought the thing was just a natural, albeit ghastly, extension of the captain’s body.

  After several moments, the captain turned away from the cabinet and the brought the mechanical arm up. It’s claw-like fingers curled around the back of the counter-grav chair in front of him.

  “I want these bastards found, Commander,” he said, deadpan. “No mistakes. I want them found so that we can make an example out of them. We must send a clear message.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lewis said, forcing a nod.

  Just leave now, he thought, let him discover the rest when you’re not the only one around.

  But even as he thought it, he knew he couldn’t just leave. He had to tell him.

  The captain must have noticed the conflict on his face. “Is there something else, Commander?”

  Lewis squared his jaw and said, “The Terminus was open.”

  Commander Lewis Cardington never saw the fingers of the captain’s mechanical hand fold back, nor did he hear thunderous blast as the small weapon imbedded inside, fired. He felt it, though. A single round slammed into his chest like a sledgehammer, launching him into the air and back against the cabin bulkhead.

  He slid down into a seated position and brought his hands to his chest. They came away covered in something warm and sticky. He frowned, trying to decide where the mess had come from. He looked up but everything around him seemed covered in a sort of haze, almost like he was dreaming. He couldn’t focus on anything.

  Darkness began closing in around him. He wasn’t scared. It was as if someone wrapped him in a warm blanket of calming blackness, like a mother comforting a scared child. He saw his mother’s face smiling at him, and he smelled breakfast. He couldn’t remember if he’d had a good breakfast or not, and for no reason at all, decided that he really wanted eggs.

  What a strange thought…

  Somewhere, far in the distance, he heard someone talking. Whoever it was, they didn’t sound pleased.

  Who wouldn’t be happy in a place this warm and cozy?

  In the darkness, Lewis Cardington heard, “Bridge, this is the captain. Get me Pan.”

  Then even the darkness faded.

  TWO

  John McNeal had heard many outlandish things in his lifetime, but he had to admit that this particular revelation beat out all the rest. Neverland? It was so ridiculous that he almost laughed.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, covering a smirk. Even after hearing it twice, he still couldn’t believe it. Glancing out the skiff’s side windows, he watched the pulsing green lines move around the engine housing. He watched the clouds drift by and tried to come up with some other explanation, some logical answer that his mind could digest. Neverland was a fairy tale, a bedtime story. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. Not that he could argue the point, if this really wasn’t Neverland then where the hell was he?

  “You know,” John said, turning away from the clouds, “you could’ve just said the Hundred Acre Wood. I might have believed that.”

  Michael frowned and stared blankly at John, his head bobbing slightly with the motion of the skiff. “The what?”

  “Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, Tigger?”

  The young girl, with the odd burnt-orange pigtails, giggled. “You know, you sure do say some pretty weird things, guy.”

  “Hey, speak for yourself,” John said. “By the way, I didn’t get your name back there with all the rock-throwing, skiff blazing ruckus.”

  A wide grin spread across her face, revealing sparkling white teeth. Light seemed to dance in her bright green eyes. “Bella.”

  John coughed. “Seriously?”

  She leaned back in her seat, frowning. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  John’s mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening around him. But no matter how he tried to justify what was going on, nothing made sense. Not this world. Not the aircraft they sat in, and not these people. He had to be dreaming. Had to be. There was no way—absolutely no way—he was in Neverland.

  “No, not at all,” he said, finally. “Something tickled my throat, is all. I like that name, Bella. It’s a good name.”

  John couldn’t help but smile at the almost comical grin that spread across her face.

  “Thanks!” she said.

  John spent the rest of the flight trying to explain the complexities of a stuffed bear that had a severe honey addiction and a tiger that loved to bounce. He was just getting to the grumpy rabbit when the skiff slowed and began to descend. He leaned over to scan the cityscape below. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the empty streets below. The city was still and quiet. Empty. Were it not for the insane events of the past few hours, he could have been back on Earth. The sunrise was identical.

  War hadn’t touched this part of the city. At least, not in the way it had where they hand first landed. Vehicles of all sizes still lined the streets, but most of these weren’t destroyed piles of rubble and most of the surrounding buildings seemed more or less intact.

  They passed a few H-shaped tenements—which also appeared empty—then slowed to a crawl over a long flat five-story structure that spanned two blocks. John couldn’t make out any distinguishing features, and either there were no lights, or they had all been disabled. The building’s dark grey composite exterior matched the surrounding buildings, blending in.

  Bella leaned over to look out the window. “Ah, home sweet home.”

  Confused, John craned his neck to see what he’d missed. If she was talking about the building directly below them, he didn’t see what could be sweet about it.

  The skiff began a slow yaw to the right, holding steady about fifty feet above the flat non-descript roof. John scanned the length of the roof twice and either completely missed what Bella had seen or she played games with him. Neither would have surprised him.

  He was about to ask what the joke was, when an opening appeared below as two large sections of the roof slid apart. From his angle all he could see was darkness. Within seconds, the opening spanned seventy-feet and skiff slowly descended toward it.

  They passed through unceremoniously and the roof doors began to close. It only took a moment for John’s eyes to adjust and he was surprised by what he saw. A cavernous space, at least a hundred yards wide by two hundred long, stretched out below him. Large directional lights shown from the ceiling, illuminating expansive floor below. Several small craft, that could very well have been this world’s version of fighter jets, were lined up along one wall and three skiffs, like the one he was in, were arranged similarly along the opposite wall.

  “There better not be anyone in my spot again,” The pilot said from the cockpit.

  Bella groaned. “Oh, Graft, you’re such a whiner. So what if there is? How many other spots do you have to choose from?”

  “It’s the principle of the thing, sis. I mean seriously, it’s not a difficult concept to understan—and there is. For shit’s sake.”

  Bella winked at John and pointed out one of the windows. “Look, there’s a spot right there.”

  “You know what, Bella, that’s fine, but it’s not the point,” The pilot said. “How about I go down to your workshop, use some stuff and just put it back wherever I want. How would that make you feel?”

  Bella’s face went instantly serious. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Well, then…”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine, I see your point, not like there’s anything we can do about it now. Just put us down somewhere.”

  “You heard that, Tom?” the pilot called over his shoulder. “That’s a point for me, count it.”

  Tom grunted.

  John watched through the side windows as they maneuvered arou
nd the space. Flight crews and mechanics made their way through the collection of aircraft, moving parts around and inspecting chassis. Sparks shot off one of the skiffs where someone sat crouched over an opening in the wing, obviously making some kind of repairs or modifications to the aircraft. The scene reminded him of his home, back on the flight deck of the NAU Lincoln.

  “I guess this’ll have to do,” The pilot said.

  Outside, the green and yellow lines pulsing around the engine chassis accelerated as Tim maneuvered the skiff toward the deck. A mechanical popping sound echoed through the passenger compartment followed by hydraulic whines John guessed were the craft’s landing struts. A second later they touched down, the struts groaned as they absorbed the skiff’s weight.

  Tom unbuckled and had the compartment door pulled open before the thrum of the engines ceased. He hopped onto the deck without a word and moved purposefully away from the skiff.

  “So what’s his deal?” John asked, unbuckling his own harness.

  Bella pursed her lips and shook her head. “That’s just Tom for ya. Come on, help me.” She moved to Michael and unclipped his restraints.

  “Sure.”

  “Are we there yet?” Michael asked. His voice had the musical tone of someone slightly over-medicated. John crossed the floor to him and saw that the man’s eyes were glazed over and his expression uncaring.

  “Here,” John said, slipping a hand under the wounded man’s shoulder. “You got his other arm?”

  He and the girl exchanged nods and lifted Michael out of the seat. Michael sucked in a painful breath.

  Apparently not medicated enough, John thought.

  “Easy,” he said, taking more of the man’s weight.

  “Oh, stop being such a baby.” Bella chided.

  “I not baby,” Michael argued.

  Bella laughed.

  The trio shuffled to the edge of the compartment then stopped.

  “You got him for a second?” she asked glancing at John

  He adjusted the man’s weight and nodded. “Yep, got him.”

  She hopped onto the deck then cursed when her foot slid in a small puddle. She grabbed ahold of the skiff and laughed again. “Holy crap that was almost my ass. Did you guys see that? I just about lost it.”

  “Damn, I would have paid real money to see that,” The pilot said, coming up behind John.

  John turned and did a double take. He frowned, looked out across the deck, and then back at the pilot. “Wait, Huh?”

  The pilot brushed long strands of blonde hair away from his face and held out his hand with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, we get that a lot. I’m Tim.”

  John fumbled with his grip, trying to shift the man’s weight so he could take the offered hand and not drop Michael.

  Tim seemed to notice his quandary and slapped him on the shoulder instead. “Don’t worry about it. Nice to meet you.”

  His hair was longer and unkempt, but there was no mistaking that he and Tom were twins. He wore a tan sleeveless shirt tucked into brown cargo pants that bloused over a pair of black military style boots. Some kind of pistol was secured in a holster on his waist, accompanied with two spare magazines.

  “You’re twins.” John said.

  Tim grinned. “Nothing gets passed you.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “You guys going to stay up there forever and talk, or what?” Bella asked.

  John shifted his gaze back to the girl, then something behind her caught his attention. A large crowd had started to gather on the deck several feet away. As he looked over their faces, he realized not one of them appeared over twenty-five. He guessed the youngest was only fourteen or fifteen.

  They’re just kids, John thought.

  “Who the hell is that?” someone in the crowd asked.

  John hadn’t seen who’d spoken, but the voice was deep and gruff, like an old man’s. He couldn’t imagine one of the kids sounding like that.

  “For shit’s sake,” Tim muttered under his breath.

  A tall man, at least forty, stepped around the edge of the crowd, pointing a finger at John. Like everyone else, the man dressed in dark, earthy tones. His pants were tucked into combat boots, and a well-wore leather jacket hung loosely around his chest over a faded blue shirt. John noticed he too was armed. The man gripped the butt of a pistol on his right hip.

  “What’s this?” the man asked, nodding to John.

  Oh great, John thought, Tom Number Two.

  “He’s okay, Marb,” Bella said.

  “Says you,” the man retorted, unsnapping the clasp on his holster.

  She ignored him and gave the men in the skiff a “come on” gesture.

  John felt the weight of Michael’s semi-limp body ebb. Tim had taken a hold of the opposite arm and together they helped Michael to a sitting position on the floor of the compartment. Bella pulled his legs over the edge.

  Tim climbed down to help Bella pull Michael the rest of the way out, then John followed. On the deck, John straightened and met Marb’s icy stare. His fingers slid over his pulser’s grip, wondering if he’d be fast enough if it came to that. He’d been in the top three of his class in marksmanship training, but that had been firing at semi-organic targets in optimal conditions. The instructors had invited the class to participate in a quick-draw competition, to see who could put the most accurate rounds on target. Out of his class of twenty-two cadets, he’d lasted until the second-to-last round before getting knocked out by Allison Renteria with her split second groin shot that was the talk of the class through graduation.

  As they starred each other down, each man seemingly waiting for the other to flinch, as tense silence fell over the group. John felt a bit like Wyatt Earp at the OK Corral.

  “Oh, for the love of the First Ones, Marb,” Bella said, throwing her head back. “Knock off your shit. This is ridiculous.”

  Marb held his ground. “When it comes to the security of this compound, I decide what’s ridiculous or not. You people don’t just get to pick and choose what security procedures you don’t want to follow when it’s not convenient.

  Bella squared herself to the man and jammed her fists down on her hips. “I said, he’s okay.”

  Marb laughed. “Well, unfortunately, I don’t really give a damn what a little bitch like you has to say about anything around—”

  “You call me that again!” Bella warned, stepping toward him.

  “Bella, stop,” Tim said, grabbing her arm. He glared at Marb. “Watch what you say to my sister, asshole.”

  “To hell with your sister, and to hell with you.” Marb said, jabbing a finger at both of them in turn.

  “Your mission was simple. In and out. You both know what kind of schedule we’re on. We don’t have the time or resources to be dealing with shit like this,” he pointed to Michael. “And on top of that, you bring a stranger here?”

  He lifted his chin toward John. “And an armed stranger at that. How do I know he’s not a Regency spy?”

  “They were just following the Rules,” Bella argued, putting an emphasis on the same rules Marb had thrown at them. She pulled her arm free of Tim’s grasp.

  John had had enough. He stepped around Tim and said, “Look, Mar—”

  In a blink Marb’s pistol came up, it’s long barrel level with John’s forehead. Startled gasps from the crowd muffled the audible click of a hammer cocking back.

  “Rules don’t apply to Regency spies.”

  “Whoa, hey!” John lifted his hands. He felt strangely calm, despite staring into a black hole of death. His heart pounded, and adrenaline pumped into his system, slowing everything down. Lessons from hand to hand combat flowed into his mind and he weighed his options. They weren’t very good.

  “Marb, take it easy,” Tim said.

  “Listen,” John said, keeping his tone calm and level. “I can understand you not trusting me. In your position, I might feel the exact same, but I can assure you I’m no spy.”

  “Oh, well hell, why di
dn’t you just say so.” Marb lowered the gun a fraction of an inch. “I guess we can all just go back to what we were doing then, no harm no foul. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  The gun came back up. “I’m going to need that gun.”

  “Jesus, what happened?” A familiar voice asked, as Tom appeared from behind the nose of the skiff, pushing a wheeled office chair.

  “Marb thinks John’s a spy,” Bella said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

  “Put your damn gun up, Marb.”

  Marb’s face changed from determination to disbelief. “You’re vouching for this guy?”

  Tom pushed the chair behind Michael and, on queue, Tim and Bella lowered him into it. After making sure the chair was steady, Tom glanced up at Marb, clearly frustrated.

  “I’m not vouching for anyone. This was Michael’s call.”

  At the mention of his name, Michael gave a slight grin and his head bobbed. John wondered how much he was actually registering. He turned back to Marb. The barrel-chested man holstered his pistol but John could tell the man wanted nothing less than to put a bullet right between his eyes.

  “Regardless of whose call it is,” Marb pointed at John. “He will still have to turn over his weapon. No unauthorized weapons in the compound, those are my rules.”

  He eyed Bella as he emphasized the last part, then turned back to Tom. “Does she know?”

  Bella answered, “Of course she doesn’t know, idiot, we just got back. No way we’re going to broadcast this over the net.”

  “Damn, I’d like to smack that smart mouth of yours.” He waved a dismissive hand to the side. “This is grown folk talk, honey, why don’t you go play with your toys. I’m sure they miss you.”

  John stepped forward and spoke before any of them had a chance to stop him. “Listen, buddy, if you want my gun that’s fine, we’ll talk about it, but you need to watch how you speak to her.” He nodded at Bella. “If it wasn’t for her, none of us would be standing here right now. So as far as I’m concerned, if you have something to say to her, you can say it to me.”