Return to Oz (The Falken Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  “Yeah,” Falken said. “I think we better.”

  “You first?” Vina asked.

  Falken nodded. “Your father helped me become who I am today. He taught me a lot about … well, about being a decent person. I’m a free man now because of him.”

  “Why were you in jail?” Vina asked.

  “I, uh … hmm.” Falken stopped. “Well, there’s no easy way to say it, I guess. I killed a man, years ago, back on Earth.”

  “Why?” Vina asked.

  “He slept with my girlfriend,” Falken said. “But that’s not … he didn’t do anything wrong, really. He just happened to cross paths with me at probably the lowest point in my life, and I lost control, and I needed an outlet for several years’ worth of stress and frustration. But that’s not who I am anymore.”

  “I know,” she said, rubbing his forearm reassuringly. “I’ve seen who you are.”

  “So I went to jail,” Falken said. “I met your father there. He had a photo album of your family. I found it, when another prisoner attacked him. And I gave it back to him, later, and we became friends over time.”

  “What was he like?” Vina asked.

  Falken frowned. She hasn’t seen him for nearly ten years. I might know him better than she does. “He was a good friend. Honest, unselfish, not a mean bone in his body, but … totally driven by trying to get out of jail, in order to help you guys.”

  “Help us? How?” Vina asked.

  “He told us you had been kidnapped,” Falken said.

  “We were,” Vina said. “Right before he was arrested. But they found us, not long after he went to jail.”

  “Well, in prison we’re pretty … isolated, I guess,” Falken said. “They don’t allow much contact with the outside world: no vidcalls, no newsnet articles. But eventually we got word that you were safe – it was a huge relief to him.”

  “We never heard from him,” Vina said. Falken could hear a twinge of pain in her tone.

  “We weren’t allowed to contact anyone,” Falken said. “But he told me all about you guys. Believe me, he thought about you constantly. He would have called if he could. We were working together, trying to figure out how to get out of jail, so he could see you again.”

  “Like, how to break out?” Vina asked.

  Their sushi arrived, and Falken rubbed his chopsticks together, thinking. “More like how to beat the system,” Falken said. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Back on the Liberty Belle, you said you weren’t sure whether my father was real or not. What did you mean by that?” Vina asked.

  “I can’t really explain that, either,” Falken said.

  “Why?” Vina asked. “You don’t remember?”

  “No, I remember,” Falken said. “But prison is a very surreal experience. Sometimes it feels like it happened to somebody else.”

  Vina frowned, and put a roll in her mouth. “I feel like you’re not telling me something.”

  “Sorry,” Falken said. “I know you want to know more, but … I just can’t.”

  “He really talked about us?”

  “Constantly,” Falken said. “He was doing everything in his power to get out of there. I thought he had gotten out, actually – I thought he got out before me.”

  Vina shook her head. “No. My mom tried calling the Justice Department a few years back, and they told her he was still serving his sentence, eligible for parole in another ten years or so.”

  “I don’t understand,” Falken said. “He told me he was innocent. I believed him, at the time.”

  “He might still believe that, but I’m not sure I do,” Vina said. “As far as I know, he claimed to be innocent throughout the trial, but the evidence was pretty damning. Mom says his attorney argued that he had a mental break. He snapped, basically. I guess, the same way you did.”

  Falken sighed. “That doesn’t sound like your father.” He thought for a moment, then tapped his finger against his nose. “Wait, now I remember. He said his father-in-law testified against him. He lied about something, to get your father convicted …?”

  “Grandpa?” Vina frowned. “No. I don’t know if he testified at all during the trial. But he definitely didn’t lie about anything.”

  So either my memory’s playing tricks on me, or Oz was playing tricks on me … or Weaver lied to me, Falken thought. He dipped a slice of salmon in his soy sauce, thinking. “So he’s not innocent?”

  “I don’t think so,” Vina said.

  “Then what really happened?” Falken asked.

  Vina took a deep breath, then exhaled. “The whole story? Hoo boy. When I was a teenager, my mom, my brother, and I were all kidnapped by a man named Tevka.”

  “Who’s Tevka?”

  “A former employee, sort of. I never really knew him. He sometimes did odd jobs around the bookstore for my dad, but Dad fired him after he caught him Drifting in the back parking lot one day.”

  “‘Drifting’?” Falken asked.

  “Yeah, Drift – you haven’t heard of it? One of those user-customized drugs that let you dial up specific emotions in different combinations, like euphoria mixed with fear, or excitement mixed with shame.”

  “iMoji,” Falken said. “Heard of it, just a different name.”

  “Right,” Vina said. “Anyway, Tevka kidnapped us – our guess is he wanted to get back at my dad for firing him, even though it was years later. My father spent four days looking for us, and then Tevka sent him a message telling him to meet out in the woods. Dad went there hoping to get us out, but they must have argued and fought about something, and my dad ended up killing him.”

  Falken rubbed at his chin. “And the temporary insanity defense didn’t work?”

  “No,” Vina said, taking a sip of her water. “The prosecution argued that that would only excuse his actions in the heat of the moment. After he … killed Tevka, my dad went home, and came back to the crime scene with a shovel, to bury the body. If he had called the cops himself and owned up to it, it might have gone differently. But when they found him there, he pretended he didn’t know about the shovel, and all through the trial he claimed he was innocent.”

  “So they convicted him,” Falken said.

  “Yeah,” Vina agreed.

  “I wonder why they won’t release him,” Falken mused.

  “Release him? Is that even possible?” Vina asked.

  “Ah, perhaps,” Falken said. “You can earn your way out … sort of an early parole for good behavior, kind of thing.”

  “Is that how you were released?”

  Falken nodded. “There’s a bit more to it than that, but … yes.” He’s got to pass his own set of ethical tests, I guess, he thought. But Weaver was a model inmate while we were in … how has he not passed them already?

  “You said he was trying to get out, to come see us,” Vina said. “What happened? Why isn’t he out yet?”

  “I don’t know,” Falken admitted.

  “Did he get into some kind of trouble?” she asked. “If it was that important to him to get out, and he knew he just had to be well behaved … I don’t see why he hasn’t been released.”

  “It’s … complicated. It’s not just about good behavior. And they don’t tell you exactly what you have to do, so you have to figure it out on your own.”

  “And he just hasn’t ‘figured it out’ yet?” Vina asked.

  “I guess not,” Falken said. “But I wonder if I could help him.”

  “You’d be willing to help?” Vina asked, her eyes wide with hope.

  “Absolutely,” Falken said. “But I don’t know if I can … or if I’m even allowed to try.”

  “How?” Vina asked. “How could you help him?”

  Falken set his chopsticks down. “I have an idea. But it’s a long shot. So I don’t want you getting your hopes up yet.”

  “I’ll try not to get too excited,” Vina promised, but Falken could hear the excitement in her voice. She put her hand over his, and squeezed it.

  C
areful, Falken. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

  He signaled to the chef for the bill. “We better get going. I need to see if there are any tickets left for your flight back to Earth.”

  Chapter 4

  Amid a throng of other passengers, Falken shouldered his duffel bag, and walked beside Vina down the transport’s boarding tube. They stepped through the hatch onto the deep space transit hub, and followed a set of glowing arrows down a corridor into a large customs hall, with multiple lines of people waiting to have their biometrics scanned. Above the scanning booths, a wide window opened out onto space – through the window, Falken could see the graceful blue-green curve of Earth’s atmosphere. He stopped for a moment, holding up the line of people behind him as he stared at the sight.

  “Everything okay?” Vina asked, smiling at him quizzically.

  “Yeah,” Falken said, his voice heavy with emotion. “It’s just been a long time.”

  When it was their turn to be scanned, Falken let Vina step up to the booth first. She placed her hand on a palm scanner, and looked up into a camera that surveyed her face, then zoomed in on her right eye.

  “Vina Weaver,” the machine stated. “Welcome back to Earth.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Falken stepped up and let the machine scan him next.

  “Sirio Falken,” the machine said. “You are subject to certain travel restrictions, per Justice Department regulations. Would you like a reminder of those restrictions?”

  “No,” Falken said. “I remember.”

  “Attempting to board a vehicle with a restricted destination will violate the terms of your parole,” the machine cautioned him.

  “I know,” Falken said. “I’m just connecting here to another flight.”

  “Have a safe trip,” the machine told him.

  A barrier gate swung aside, and Falken and Vina stepped through it.

  “You’re not going to get in trouble for this, are you?” she asked, a frown creasing her brow.

  “I don’t think so,” Falken said. As long as I stay up here in orbit, and don’t try to catch a shuttle back down to Earth. “Come on,” he said, smiling to hide his nervousness. “Let’s go find a ride.”

  They made their way across the station, and eventually located a hallway lined with the booths of tour operators. Vina looked at Falken, who shrugged.

  “Let’s just try that one, I guess,” he said.

  The man behind the counter glanced up and saw them approaching. “Hi!” he said, smiling. “Looking for a private flight? Let me guess: it’s date night, and you guys want to do a sunset cruise.”

  “Ah, no,” Falken said, blushing. “We are looking for a private flight, though.”

  “Just some sightseeing? No problem. Name the place, and I’ll fly you there.” He stuck his hand out. “Bishna. Owner and pilot.”

  “Falken,” Falken said, shaking his hand. “This is Vina.”

  “A pleasure, ma’am,” Bishna said. He tapped on a button, and a hologram appeared over the counter, showing his ship, spinning slowly. The view changed after a moment, to show the vessel’s plush interior cabin, with leather couches and a number of wide portholes. “Here’s my ship. Now where can I take you two?”

  Falken cleared his throat. “We’d like to visit another ship,” he said. “But I’m not sure where it is.”

  Bishna frowned. “Okaaaay. Dropping in on a friend unannounced?”

  “Something like that,” Falken agreed. “If you could take us up into high orbit, I should be able to point it out.”

  “High orbit? Can do, but it will cost you, just to be up front. We charge a flat rate by the hour, plus a fuel surcharge for longer trips. And if we need to tool around a bit looking for this ship of yours, it’ll definitely be a longer trip.”

  “That’s fine,” Falken said, thinking of the insurance claim money from the Ecolympus.

  “Well, then, let’s open up a credit line, and we can get going,” Bishna said.

  Five minutes later, Vina and Falken were seated in the ship’s passenger compartment, which was roughly oval in shape, with thick carpets and wood-paneled cabinets above a well-stocked bar. At the front of the cabin, a panel slid down to reveal the back of Bishna’s head. He finished flipping a handful of switches at the pilot’s station, and then radioed the transit hub’s control tower for clearance to take off.

  “Normally I’d give you guys a little privacy,” Bishna said, indicating the open panel with a jerk of his thumb. “But I’ll just leave it open so you can tell me when you see your ship.”

  “Sounds good,” Falken said.

  Through the forward viewport, he watched as the hull of the transit hub slid away, and then the craft spun through a slow turn, and accelerated away from Earth and the station above it, joining a line of traffic headed for deep space. For a time, Falken and Vina just watched the space traffic, taking in the sights of transports and cargo vessels maneuvering for position amongst the trade lanes.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” Vina whispered to Falken, checking to ensure that Bishna could not hear them.

  “Sorry,” Falken said, keeping his voice low. “We’re looking for a Justice Department ship.”

  “A prison ship?” she asked.

  Careful, Falken, he chided himself. “Sort of. It’s where they process inmates when they come in and out of prison.”

  “You went through there?” she asked.

  “This is the outer orbit zone,” Bishna called, interrupting them. “I’m going to pull off here, otherwise we’ll find ourselves at the moon.” He pointed through the viewport. “Big cluster of freighters over that way. Want to start looking there?”

  Falken shook his head. “No. This ship will be off on its own.”

  “Okay, hang on. Let’s be smart about this,” Bishna said. He typed on his terminal for a moment, and then a vidscreen in the cabin flipped on, and began cycling through images of ships. “Computer’s showing you all solitary vessels in outer orbit. Holler when you see it.”

  Falken watched the screen as a procession of ships flickered across it. Then his eyebrows shot up in recognition.

  “That’s it.”

  “Coming up as the UNCS Sydney,” Bishna said.

  Sydney, Falken thought, smiling. As in Sydney, Australia. “That’s the one.”

  Bishna tapped on his screen again, and a red outline appeared on the forward viewport, highlighting the distant ship. “Got it.”

  “Are they going to let us in?” Vina asked, whispering again.

  “I have no idea,” Falken replied.

  Vina was quiet for a moment. “I think I need a drink,” she said, eyeing the bottles in the sideboard.

  “Yeah,” Falken said.

  Past Bishna, the familiar shape of the ship loomed larger in the viewport. Falken could see running lights blinking along its side, and a set of turret-mounted cannons just below the ship’s bow.

  “Uh … what kind of ship did you say this was?” Bishna asked.

  A blinding red light flashed through the viewport, dazzling them momentarily. Squinting, Falken saw the nearest turret spin, the cannon rotating to line up on the shuttle.

  A stern voice emanated from the shuttle’s speakers. “Unidentified shuttle, this is the UNCS Sydney. You are entering a restricted area,” it told them. “If you do not maintain one kilometer of separation, you will be fired on.”

  “What the fuck!” Bishna protested. He yanked on the shuttle’s controls, turning sharply away from the larger ship. “What the hell have you gotten me into?” he asked, frowning over his shoulder at Falken.

  “Wait!” Falken said, standing up. “Hail them.”

  “What? No!”

  “Just try it, please,” Falken said. “I’m not asking you to fly any closer, I just want to talk to them.”

  “I don’t think so,” Bishna said.

  “I’ll double your fee,” Falken promised.

  Bishna sighed. “God s
ave us,” he grumbled, but he tapped on his screen. “Radio’s on. Say your piece.”

  “I’m trying to reach Captain Peshai,” Falken said. “Please tell him that Sirio Falken would like to see him.”

  Chapter 5

  The radio was silent.

  “Did they hear?” Falken asked.

  Bishna nodded. “They heard.”

  Falken could feel his blood pounding in his ears. Then the radio crackled again.

  “You’re cleared to dock at tube three. Be advised that this is an active prisoner facility. Your ship and all passengers will be searched upon docking. Noncompliance will be viewed as an act of aggression.”

  “Understood,” Falken said. “Take us in.”

  Bishna swore under his breath, but the red light faded abruptly, and he turned the shuttle, pointing it at the side of the Justice Department ship. They docked a moment later, and when the hatch slid open, four armed guards strode into the shuttle. Two of them frisked Bishna, Falken, and Vina, waving oddly-shaped wands across their bodies, while the other pair of guards searched the ship thoroughly, opening every compartment and cabinet, and then scanning the entirety of the ship with a set of handheld sensors.

  “The warden will see you now,” one of the guards told Falken, holstering his scanner.

  “She’s with me,” Falken said, indicating Vina.

  The guard nodded, and gestured that they should follow his colleague through the hatch.

  “Wait here?” Falken asked Bishna.

  The pilot shrugged, raising his eyebrows. “I’m just doing exactly what I’m told from here on out.”

  The guards led Falken and Vina through several corridors and onto an elevator, which rode upward several levels, and then opened into a hallway lined with offices. As he walked, Falken’s feet squeaked on the polished linoleum floors of the corridor – he winced at the loud noise. At the end of the hall, a hatch slid open when they approached, and revealed a wide desk sitting under a viewport, which offered a panoramic view of Earth. The office was spare and unadorned – a painting of a courtyard and fountain hung on one bulkhead wall, and the other wall was taken up with a large vidscreen that appeared to show a status board of some type, though Falken couldn’t quite puzzle out the meaning of the various icons.