Chapter 5

Conner and Oliver exchanged a look. “How do you know about the medallions?” Conner said to the boy on the screen. “And why do you want to help? Also, more importantly, have you been following us?”

“Following?” Durgna laughed. “Why would we want to follow you? We just wanted to make contact with you, because we wanted to help procure the elemental medallions.”

“Why?” Conner said.

“For the same reason as you,” Durgna replied. “We can share information, and then split up to cover more ground. When we are done, we can meet up and---”

“What reason is that?” Conner insisted.

“Surely you see the benefits of working together?” Durgna said. “We---”

“We’ll tell you nothing,” Conner said, reaching for the hyperspace lever. “Now you can eat our stardust.” He pulled it, and the green tunnel of hyperspace opened up in front of them, pulling them once again into the space between space.

“Why did you do that?” Mara asked. “He was going to help us.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Conner said. “He claimed to be searching for the medallions for the same reason as us, but when I asked him what that was, he kept dodging. He doesn’t know that we’re going after the Disease, which means he has some other reason to want the medallions, and is being dishonest about it.”

Oliver looked up at Conner from his chair. “Wow. That’s really clever, especially coming from you.”

“Hey!” Conner said.

“But what was not clever,” Oliver continued, “was that you jumped us into hyperspace before I finished putting in the coordinates.”

Conner suddenly felt worried. “What does that mean? Do you think we’ll accidentally fly into a star or something?” Oliver shook his head. “No, of course not. There are light-years of space between stars, compared to the light-seconds that stars are across. The probability of hitting one is so low it’s not worth thinking about. It’s just that I have no idea where we will be when we emerge.”

“So that Durgna guy,” Mara said, “do you really think he was following us?”

“His ship was hanging there when we arrived at your planet,” Conner said, “and again when we left. Also, do you remember the footprints in the snow? I wouldn’t be surprised if that was him and whoever might be with him.”

“And even more worrying,” Oliver said, “how does he know we are looking for the medallions? I’m pretty sure we haven’t told anyone but you and the Meysens, and I don’t think they would just give that information away to strangers.”

“Maybe they weren’t strangers to the Meysens, then,” Mara said.

“But then why wouldn’t they know why we are searching for them?” Conner asked. “Why would the Meysens give them some of the picture, but not all? I think they must have been eavesdropping somewhere.”

The others nodded. “And I think we can guess why an empire wants their hands on the medallions,” Oliver said.

“The power they give the wielders,” Mara said.

They sat in somber silent agreement.

It was only a few minutes more before the hyperspace tunnel opened up to normal space again. As Oliver had predicted, they were in the middle of nowhere, with no nearby stars or planets, just the starry spectacle that could be seen from anywhere in the galaxy.

“All right,” Oliver said, “time to set the coordinates for Mithra.” He gave Conner the eyeball. “For real this time.” He started to put the numbers in, when the now hauntingly familiar blip appeared on the console.

“Don’t tell me,” Conner said.

“Did they follow us through hyperspace?” Mara asked.

“I don’t know how that would be possible,” Oliver said, “but it is the only explanation.” His fingers hovered over the keys. “Okay, change of plan. We jump to another random place in space, and queue up Mithra’s address, so that as soon as we drop out, we can jump again before they catch up. Surely they can’t track us if they’re not there when we leave.” He tapped a few more numbers, and then they were in hyperspace again. This time, he loaded up the coordinates before they dropped out, and held his hand on the lever.

“What would happen if you tried to open a hyperspace window while in hyperspace?” Conner asked.

“Nothing,” Oliver replied. “There is no additional hyperspace to go to from here. It would be like swinging your tennis racket when there is no ball. Or like trying to hit a ball that is taped to your racket.” He scratched his head. “I’m terrible at coming up with metaphors.”

“Similes,” Mara said.

“Whatever.”

It was not long before they dropped out of hyperspace. The moment the stars settled into their proper places, Oliver pulled the lever, and the green tunnel swallowed them again. Oliver sat back and sighed in satisfaction. “There’s no way they can follow us now,” he said.

This time, the trip lasted the usual several hours that interplanetary travel took. Oliver and Mara talked about sciency stuff, and Conner listened to music and ate snacks. When they emerged into normal space and crowded into the cabin, the sight that awaited them was something to behold. The half-lit, half-dark globe of Mithra in front of them was a work of art, with its continents swirling and waving on the lit side, and city lights decorating the dark side in a deliberate pattern. Even the ice caps were sculpted, as if embroidered, with pleasant shapes.

“On the way here, I looked up Mithra in the Black Fire’s computer,” Oliver said. “The culture praises art above all else, seeing it as the ultimate expression of life, and devoting tremendous economic efforts to making their world as beautiful as possible. However, there is a downside. The reason that they have been able to harness so much economic power is that the world government holds the workforce in a tight grip of regulation and propaganda.”

“That’s horrible,” Mara said. “Like a dystopia.”

“Agreed,” Oliver replied. “It’s a wonderful place to visit, but I feel sorry for the people who live there. And what’s worse, because the government controls the social narrative, they don’t even know that they have it bad.”

“N-12 shuttle,” a voice came through the speaker, “identify yourself, and state your purpose.”

“Did they just hack us?” Conner whispered.

Oliver took a couple of deep breaths, not looking too sure of himself. Then he pressed the speaker button. “Hello, Mithra,” he said. He introduced them. “We are here on a mission to defeat the Disease, by using the seven elemental medallions, and we would like to borrow the one you have in your Grand Museum.”

There was a pause, and then the voice came again through the speaker. “There is no Disease here. Please return to where you came from. If you do not comply within a window of ten minutes, we will send a patrol shuttle to escort you away.”

“Please wait,” Oliver said hurriedly. “We are acting on the authority of the Great Dooku Flower of Meysenia.” He waited a few seconds for a response, and then said, “We can provide documentation.”

After an agonizing silence, the voice returned. “N-12, you are cleared for landing.” The three of them gave a collective sigh. “Please proceed to these coordinates, and prepare for inspection. Your access to the galactic net will be censored for your stay, and you must leave any objects with writing or digital information on them in your ship, save for your official documents.”

“Why would they want us to leave our books and music here?” Conner asked.

“I guess they’re just that paranoid about outside ideas leaking in,” Oliver said.

“You think they’ll arrest us if we say anything they don’t like?” Mara asked.

“Geez, I hope not,” Oliver replied.

He maneuvered the Black Fire to the designated coordinates, on the day side of the planet. They landed on a runway which looked almost like it was in a park, with short grass, ponds with fountains, and scattered trees around. Ground control ushered them into a hangar that was a pleasant-looking tiled white dome with lights shining from the corners of each tile. Once they were inside, a massive door closed behind them. In the back of his mind, Conner worried a little whether they were being taken prisoner.

“All right,” a voice said through their radio, “please leave the shuttle and proceed through customs. You will be thoroughly scanned, so do not bring any hazardous items.”

“Think we should leave the medallions here?” Conner asked.

“Yeah,” Oliver said.

After checking their pockets, the three of them walked out of the Black Fire. The ground control officers guided them to one of the doors in the side of the hangar. They stepped through onto a conveyor belt, which took them through a round tunnel with blinking lights and electronic sounds. At the other side, a girl in a white coat said, “Scan complete. You are cleared of all dangerous materials. If you would please empty your pockets and provide your belongings for inspection?”

Conner, Oliver, and Mara looked at one another, and then did as they were instructed. The girl took each item and turned it around and upside down, prodding and poking at it. It made Conner uncomfortable, having his stuff manhandled by some stranger.

The girl handed the items back, and then said, “If you would follow me this way, for your medical examination.”

Conner traded another exasperated look with the others, and they walked down a hall into a room with several of the kind of chair that could be found in doctors’ rooms. They each took one. The girl pulled a tray away from a corner, and Conner blanched at the sight of several syringes hanging on a rack, freezing up when the girl picked one of them up.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I just have to take a sample of your blood. This will barely hurt a bit.”

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say!” Conner cried, as she pushed the needle into his wrist. He tensed up, but felt only a sickening pressure, rather than pain. A small amount of red liquid filled the syringe, and she withdrew it, wiping the spot it had entered with moist cotton, and then sticking on a small bandage. Conner looked over to see that two other doctors had appeared, and were doing the same to Oliver and Mara.

“Look here,” Conner’s own doctor said, waving two fingers. Conner did, and she shone a bright light into his eyes. She then produced a cotton swab and told him to stick out his tongue. After writing some notes and filing the samples into their test tubes, she said, “please wait, while we test these samples and make sure you are not carrying any pathogens.” The three doctors exited the room, leaving Conner, Mara, and Oliver in their chairs.

“Uh, I’m not sick, are you?” Conner said.

The others both said no.

After what seemed like an hour, a boy in a uniform entered the room. “All of your medical tests are negative,” he said. “Please come with me, and have your documentation ready.”

As they followed, Conner looked at his friends. “Do you think we have good enough documentation?” he asked.

“I brought my passport and Oridion residency certificate,” Mara said.

Oliver started counting on his fingers. “I have my passport, my birth certificate, my chemical license, my mechanical license, my---”

“Okay, I get the point,” Conner said. “It’s just, all I have is my tennis team membership card.”

Oliver looked at him. “What?”

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance to go home and get anything more.”

Oliver scratched the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. “Oh, yeah, I guess I didn’t.”

Conner’s lack of papers got them stuck in customs for eight hours, as the Mithrassi took their pictures, made contact with the authorities on Moebius and the Arguen Islands, and with Conner’s and Oliver’s families. They had some trouble reaching Oridion, as all of its residents were underground most of the time. They also had trouble contacting the Great Dooku Flower to verify that the writ of approval was genuine, and ended up having to send someone in person. Finally, however, they gave the three friends the ok, and let them leave, with official government identification cards, and a map of the surrounding city, recommendations for several hotels, restaurants, and attractions, and directions to the Grand Museum.

“I am so glad to be out of that!” Conner said, as they stepped into a bus. Its interior was fancy, with every other seat turned around to face the one before it, instead of them all pointing forward. Everything was very clean, and the color scheme of white and browns made it very aesthetically comfortable. The three of them sat in one of these booths, and the bus started moving.

“Me too,” Oliver agreed emphatically. “Those customs people are a very suspicious lot.”

Mara was looking out the window. “There are an awful lot of buses and taxis,” she said.

“Indeed,” a new voice said. Conner turned to find a boy dressed in a blue uniform. A steward, or conductor, or whatever they were called. “Here on Mithra, all transportation is public. All private vehicles are leased by the regional government.” He smiled. “Excuse me, but you are foreigners, yes? We are approaching the second Solidarity. Do you know of the Solidarity?”

The three of them shook their heads.

“Here on Mithra,” the steward continued, “it is mandatory to pledge fealty to the Purpose three times a day. This is called the Solidarity.” He produced three brochures. “When the bell rings at noon, stand with your hands over your hearts, and recite these words. If you aren’t sure exactly what to do, you can follow along with everyone else.”

“The Purpose?” Mara asked, as they took the brochures.

The steward threw his hands up next to his face, which had adopted a look of shock. “The Purpose. The reason we exist, why the universe has given us life. It is why we get up every morning, and go to sleep at night, and take care of our bodies, and treat one another with kindness. It is why we all work together in harmony, everyone across the entire planet, like a living organism. Each of us does our duties so that the world may be made beautiful.”

“Everyone?” Mara asked. “Are there no people who would rather do something else?”

The steward’s face fell. “Yes, there is a risk that people will go delusional. But don’t worry, our criminal justice system is very efficient, and we devote a lot of resources to our alignment correctional facilities.”

Conner was speechless in shock. He was about to say, “That’s terrible,” when an announcement played over the speaker, reminding the passengers that for their safety, video and audio was being recorded on the bus at all times, and he decided to keep his mouth shut instead.

As the steward walked away, the old girl across the aisle made a “Tch” sound with her tongue, opening the side of her mouth in a way that exuded contempt. “Young people these days,” she said, “losing touch with the Truth. Why, back in my day, when a child did not know their duty, they got a good slappin’.” She shook a finger at them. “You unruly types need to come back to the light. The Purpose is the only way to live. It’s only by it’s guidance that we . . .”

Conner shot a cringed glance at Oliver and Mara, and then looked out the window, trying to tune out the old girl’s words. The buildings were something to look at. Not that Cackorey Village or Daylight City were ugly, by any means, but there was a tranquility to the way these Mithrassi buildings were subtly curved or rounded or twisted. He found himself drawn to the scenery as it passed by.

A bell sounded over the speakers, and there was a rustling sound all around. Conner looked up to see all of the other passengers standing, facing forward and looking toward the far side of the bus. Their hands were on their hearts, so Conner quickly jumped up to join them, noticing Oliver and Mara doing the same. Oliver handed Conner one of the pamphlets the steward had given them. In a slow, collective monotone, all of the yumans in the bus began to recite.

With our hearts, minds, and souls, we pledge

Eternal allegiance to the Great Purpose.

It is the Purpose that guides us.

It is the Purpose that sustains us.

By the Purpose, we are fed.

By the Purpose we are clothed.

The Purpose absolves us of our iniquities,

And corrects us when we are in error.

It binds us together in unity.

It turns our eyes to truth.

It fills our hearts with strength.

Praise be to the Purpose.

After repeating it seven more times, they sat down again, resuming their conversations or their trains of thought from wherever they had been before. Conner exchanged glances with Oliver and Mara as they slowly sat back down. He leaned in and whispered, “They have to do this three times a day?”

“It’s a brainwashing technique,” Oliver whispered back. “If people say something over and over all the time, then even if they don’t agree with it, it can become as powerful as truth to them. Especially if everyone around them is doing it too.”

“Then I think we should spend as little time here as possible,” Conner said.

“I agree,” Mara said.

When the bus stopped, announcing they had arrived at the Grand Museum, Conner, Oliver, and Mara got off. Between the street and the building stood a sculpture about thirty feet high, a transparent bubble with a green three-sided pyramid on the inside. A plaque in front of it read, The Purpose.

“How is that the Purpose?” Conner said.

“I’m sure there’s all kinds of symbolism to it,” Oliver replied.

The museum itself was several stories tall, with tinted glass windows that spanned from the ground floor to the top. Flowing white sculptures lay between them, like curtains or petrified trees or frosting drizzling down the side of a cake. They opened the doors to a rather mundane reception room, with a couple of paintings on the walls, and a reception desk.

“Welcome,” the receptionist said, “to the Grand Museum of Mithrassi art! Can I get you three adult tickets?”

“Actually,” Oliver said, walking up to him, “we’re here on the authority of the Great Dooku Flower, with the permission of the Mithrassi government, to borrow the medallion of light, Wintermuse.” He walked up to him, producing the documents from both of the authorities he mentioned.

“Oh my,” the receptionist exclaimed. “I was told to expect you. Uh, yes, yes, right this way.”

The receptionist opened a door behind the desk and beckoned them through. They followed him into a dark hallway, with the floor, walls, and ceiling painted black. Conner wondered if this was what the people in those stories of mysteriously vanishing people felt like right before they mysteriously vanished.

The receptionist knocked on a door. “Sir, they’re here,” she said.

The door opened, and a boy in a dark suit with sunglasses came out. Oliver held out the papers, but the boy did not look at them. Instead, he said, “Ah yes. We have been waiting for you.” He turned to the receptionist. “You may leave.”

The receptionist left, and the boy beckoned them to follow him. They walked down the hall, past rooms where people gathered around tables or computers. One of them looked up and walked up to them as they passed.

“Agent Johan,” the girl said, “the new recruits to the Freedom Foundation are getting restless. They want their revolution to take off, rather than biding their time. If this continues, they might go off on their own and do something actually dangerous. What should we do?”

“Give them a warehouse full of fake top-secret documents,” Agent Johan said, waving his hand. “That should keep them busy for a little while.” He turned to Conner and company, and smiled, leaning in as if revealing a tasty secret. “The best way to deal with revolutions is to plan them yourself. That way, if anyone has traitorous thoughts, they end up joining another branch of the government, rather than an actual traitorous organization.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows above his sunglasses before turning and resuming the walk down the hall.

“That seems like rather sensitive information to just be giving out casually,” Oliver said.

“Was that a threat?” The agent said ominously.

“No, no! I was just thinking---”

“Stop it,” the agent said. “That kind of behavior is dangerous.”

“Right, uh, no thinking,” Oliver stammered. “Got it.”

At the end of the hall was a heavy vault door, with all kinds of thick metal spokes. Agent Johan turned some wheels, placed a card up to a reader, put his hand on a screen, and his eye next to a scanner, and then pushed a secret combination into a set of tiles that looked like they weren’t pressable. After that, he spoke into a voice recognizer, and scanned a chip embedded in his wrist. Finally, there was a massive clunk, and the door scraped open.

On the other side was only a table with a locked chest on top of it. Agent Johan slipped the sleeve of his suit up, revealing a key on a chain attached to a wrist cuff, which, judging by the keyhole in it, required yet another key to undo. He unclasped the key and inserted it into the chest, and the lid popped open. Inside it, in polyethylene foam, lay a glossy magenta disk engraved with a circle in the middle with six lines radiating outward from it, representing a sun. Wintermuse, the medallion of light.

“Is all of this really necessary for just the medallion?” Oliver asked. “I mean, aren’t there other things that you would want kept in a place like this?”

“Oh plenty,” Agent Johan replied, “but those are kept in facilities with real security. This vault is far too compromisable for anything really sensitive or valuable.”

“Uh, I see,” Oliver said.

Johan lifted the medallion from its case and handed it to Oliver. “Go on, test it out. Verify that it is the real deal.”

Oliver held Wintermuse up, and it began to glow. Then it shone, casting the vault as bright as day. Conner had to shield his eyes from the medallion, because looking directly at it was like looking into a flashlight. “Sorry!” Oliver said, and narrowed the path of the light so that it only shone ahead. He played a couple of beams on the walls, and then stopped. “That’s one of the elemental medallions, all right.”

Johan swiped it out of Oliver’s hands. “Before I give this to you, I am going to need you to sign a contract.” He walked back into the black hallway. “Follow me.”

“Does anyone else feel like we follow people a lot?” Conner asked.

They entered a side room, and Johan reached out toward one of the girls working at a desk. “Janivelle,” he said, “the contract.”

The girl slipped a clipboard their way without looking up. Johan frowned in slight frustration as he had to grab it from the table instead of being handed it. He held it out to Conner and his companions, along with a pen. It read,

We, the undersigned, agree to receive the medallion of light, Wintermuse, from the Mithrassi government, for a time period of one week, according to the Mithrassi official timekeeping records, during which we will procure the remaining elemental medallions of the set of seven that the above mentioned belongs to, for the purpose of eradicating the Disease of currently unknown nature and spreading mechanism, which, as of the date below, is believed to have begun at various places across the galaxy eight days prior to said date. Whether or not the above mentioned purpose has been achieved, we agree to return the above mentioned medallion of light at the above mentioned time, on penalty of overdue fees a hundred times that of the Mithrassi Public Library system, as stated in the Mithrassi Public Library Statement of Official Procedure.

There was a date, and six lines, three for signatures, and three for their printed names. Conner took the pen and signed it, and then Mara and Oliver did as well. When Oliver finished, he put the clipboard back on the table, and Janivelle took it back, still without looking.

Johan escorted them back to the museum reception room. “Our business is done,” he said. “Feel free to enjoy the museum, or be on your way, as you see fit.” He closed the door, leaving them alone with the receptionist.

“Well then!” the receptionist said. “Would you like to enter the museum? Our adult tickets are on sale for nine-tenths the regular price today.”

“No thanks,” Conner said. The others nodded. As they walked out the door, he muttered quietly, “the sooner we get off this planet, the better.”

“I second that,” Oliver agreed.

“And I third,” Mara said.

The bus ride back to the spaceport was uneventful. They had not been gone long enough for it to be time for another Solidarity, so thank the stars they did not have to stand through that again. As they went through the spaceport facility, they had to be re-checked for dangerous items and chemical signatures, which this time did not take nearly as long, and then they were finally able to board the Black Fire, which had been turned around to face the hangar entrance.

“We did it,” Oliver said, as he sat in the pilot’s chair and they all gave a collective sigh of relief. He flicked the communications button. “Mithra, we are ready for you to open the hangar door.”

They looked at the door through the windshield, waiting for it to raise and let the artificial light mix with sunlight. But it didn’t.

“Uh, Mithra, we said we are ready for you to open the hangar door.”

Nothing happened.

“Hey, is there some keyword or phrase we’re supposed to use? Like, ‘praise the Purpose,’ we’re ready?”

“I’m afraid that won’t get you anywhere,” a voice said from behind them. They spun to find Agent Johan standing in the ship behind them.

“What are you doing?” Conner demanded. “We showed you our papers, we signed your contract. Just let us go already!”

“That won’t be happening,” Agent Johan said. “We got what we needed, and now we are afraid you must stay with us in custody.”

“In custody?” Conner said, his voice rising to a shout. “But we signed the contract! We did everything you said. Let us go!”

“You signed the contract,” Johan said. “We did no such thing. And besides, the contract said only that you would have to return the medallion to us in seven days’ time, after pursuing the rest of the medallions. It said nothing about us being required to let you leave the planet.”

“But we can’t search for the other medallions if we can’t leave the planet, stupid,” Conner said.

“We don’t care whether you are able to search for the other medallions,” Johan said. “The contract merely stated that that would be your purpose, not that you would be allowed to pursue that purpose. Our business with you is done. Let me show you.”

He produced a portable monitor, and started playing security footage on it. Conner and his friends observed it as it showed Johan opening the vault with them standing around, Oliver testing out the medallion, the three of them leaving the museum, entering and exiting the bus, and getting on the Black Fire. But then, the next scene showed the Black Fire launching into orbit and flying off into hyperspace.

“Hey,” Conner said, “what’s the deal?”

“It’s not fake,” Johan said. “We just launched another N-12 painted like yours, so that we would get this footage. We now have all that we need in order to absolve ourselves of all responsibility. If the rest of the galaxy believes you vanished off into hyperspace, never to be seen again, it’s not our problem.”

“Wait,” Mara said. “Did you just say . . . never?”

“Seriously,” Conner said, “what’s going on?”

“We will take your medallions and add them to ours,” Johan said, “and we will put you in a comfortable place where you can live out the rest of your lives without stirring up trouble. Provided you tell us where to find the remaining medallions, of course.”

The impact of what Agent Johan was saying suddenly crashed down on Conner. “You never intended to let us have your medallion at all,” he said.

“Not from the very beginning,” Johan replied. “When you mentioned that you were on orders from the Great Dooku Flower, we knew there would be political ramifications if we did not make it look like we were complying. Not from the Meysens, of course, but from the yuman worlds who revere them. So we set you up so that we could get all that footage. And, I might say, you performed splendidly.”

“Well,” Conner said, racking his brain for something to say to get out of this. He pointed to the hangar camera. “Right now, that camera is filming us. And we have a way to send that recording out to the entire galaxy, so that everyone will know what you said to us just now.”

Johan laughed. “You are bluffing on so many levels. First of all, that camera cannot pick up sounds from inside this ship. Second, you do not have any way of transmitting the data. We have all outgoing communications blocked, except for those with authorization. And third, that camera is currently playing a re-run of last week. All of the records will show that this hangar is empty right now.”

Conner hemmed and hawed, his mouth working, but no thoughts coming to mind, and no discernible sound coming out. This was too perfect. There was no way out. They were trapped.

There was a thump on the side of the ship, and the muted sound of a voice pitched in anger. A moment later, a girl stepped into view of the side of the windshield, shaking her fist and shouting with rage.

Johan looked at her, and then tapped into the Black Fire’s communication board. “Command, this is Agent Johan,” he said, giving a string of code words as confirmation. “Is there a problem with communication?”

There was a moment of static, and then a voice spoke from the other end. “No, sir. Everything is fine.”

“Then why is one of our officers out here yelling instead of communicating via a channel?”

“Well sir, uh---”

“Quit stuttering and report!”

“Some of us have started acting strangely, uh, sir.”

“Strangely?” Johan growled.

“Like, they’re getting angry for no reason, and doing irrational things. D’Ryan started juggling soda cans, and then opened them so that they exploded everywhere. It’s, uh, I’m very sorry sir, I don’t know how to explain it or what to do about it sir.”

“Grr, what is going on?” Johan said through gritted teeth.

Conner felt a smile tug at his mouth. Perhaps there was a way out of this after all. “We were told coming in that the Disease had not broken out on Mithra,” he said. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Agent Johan said, his mouth in a snarl. “There is no Disease here.”

“Was,” Conner corrected. “For whatever reason, it has now arrived.”

“Impossible,” Johan snapped, taking a step toward him and yanking his shirt collar. “We don’t have the Disease!”

“Wrong,” Conner said, “you do. And I think you, dear agent, are one of its victims.”

“Me? Have the Disease? Preposterous!”

“Is it normal for you to be this angry?” Mara said.

“Wh---” Johan let go of Conner’s shirt, his hands shaking with rage. He hid them behind his back. “I’m not angry.”

“You can’t hide it,” Conner said. He grinned. “And now, we’re your only hope. Let us go find the rest of the medallions, so that we can cure the Disease.”

“W-we don’t need your help,” Johan said. “We’ll contain it. The Disease will not spread past this facility.”

“But what if it does?” Oliver said. “You said in the contract that you have no idea how it spreads. What if your population, whom your regime is so dependent on to be good little boys and girls and do their jobs and play their roles, starts acting out? There will be chaos. Mobs. Rampages. Your entire system, which you have built and maintained for thousands of years, will come crashing to the ground. Your evil empire fallen, like all those before you, and all that will come after.”

“Nooooo!” Johan screamed. He practically fell onto the communication board. “Command, come in. Open the hangar door. This is Agent Johan.” He gave his authentication again. “I repeat, open the hangar door.”

“Sir?” the voice came from the other side. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” Johan cried. “Open the door already!”

“Sir,” The person’s voice quivered. “I respectfully disregard this request, as is my duty, on the grounds that I believe you are not fully---”

“Not fully my toenails!” Johan screamed. “I’ll tell you what I’m not fully. I’m not fully completely out of patience!”

Conner did not comment about the fact that what he said meant he had at least some patience left. Instead, he said, “Why rely on somebody else to do what you could do better yourself?”

“You are absolutely right,” Johan said. He pressed the talk button. “I’m coming in there to open the gate myself. I can’t stand around waiting for you idiots to do anything right.” He pushed past Conner and company and opened the hatch, and then stalked across the ground to the door.

Conner shared a glance with his companions. Mara held up her hands with fingers crossed. Twenty seconds later, the hangar door groaned open. Johan’s voice came over the speaker. “Get going. Find those medallions, and save my planet.”

Oliver pushed the talk button. “We are on our way.”

He sat in the pilot’s chair and turned on all of the important systems, and they started moving forward. Conner found himself holding his breath as they passed through the edge of the hangar, as if escaping from a mouth that was not sure if it wanted to eat them. They emerged safely onto the runway. Oliver pushed the throttle forward and they picked up speed, until they were fast enough to take off into the air. They flew through a cloud on their way to orbit. No one called to demand they return, and no one tried to shoot them down.

“Now entering the coordinates for,” Oliver paused. “Where should we go next, Echinea, Tantalus, or Chronesia?”

“Does it matter?” Conner asked. “Shouldn’t we just get out of here as fast as possible?”

“Yeah,” Mara said.

“Right, um,” Oliver paused.

“The one that’s hard to pronounce,” Mara said. “Let’s go there.”

“Right, Echinea it is.” Oliver put in the numbers, and they were back in hyperspace.