Code Breakers: Beta (13 page)

“Hold onto your tits. We’re impacting in three, two, one.”

Petal veered the sub away so that they crashed into the drone side-to-side, sending the enemy vehicle into a spin towards the sea floor. Its shell smashed open. Wires and processors shorted out under the water. The impact rocked the sub. A bell-like note rung out as metal collided with metal.

“Hah! They didn’t see that, did they, huh?”

Petal turned the sub in a wide arc, until the second drone came into view. Like the first it performed some kind of reconnaissance route: slowly weaving and arcing, searching for them, but to no avail.

“Wanna do the honours?” Petal offered the controls to Sasha.

At first she hesitated, and then with a growing smile on her face, she swapped places, locked onto the drone, and gunned the engines again.

Within five more seconds, they had smashed the other drone to pieces.

“Now that’s more like it!” Petal said.

Sasha’s hands trembled on the controls. “That felt so damned good.”

“Yeah, girl, that’s what we were designed for, right? Not sitting around in some poxy lab. We should be out in the field getting stuff done,” Petal said.

“I guess so.”

For the first time since she’d been rescued, Petal felt like they were seeing eye-to-eye.

With two drones down, and the other two scanning the skies unable to find them with the working stealth, Sasha navigated the sub back to the base.

Petal used the time to rest, let the ‘Stems do their work. Despite their efforts, and the previous injection, she felt weak inside. Not just her physical strength, but also her motivation, her gusto. It was like the feeling after a long physical fight. It affected the mind too.

But despite that, a shining spark of excitement continued to glow inside her. Somehow she knew she was going home. After all those years wondering who she was, or even what she was, it came down to these next few hours.

But then she wondered how she would cope with the truth. Those thoughts rumbled around inside her mind as she let sleep finally take her. The low rhythmic rumble of the sub’s engines, the ebb and flow of the currents, took her away into sleep, where dreams of her birth, or creation, came to her in abstract bubbles of imagery.

***

Far off voices, shouting, arguments, rushing sounds of water. A violent jolt made Petal suddenly sit up, eyes wide, her throat dry and hoarse. The door to the sub opened. Seawater dripped off the edge of the matte-black surface like a miniature waterfall. Individual droplets reflected a bright world of lights, steel, and men in dull grey army fatigues with a light green camo design.

A pair of arms, wrapped in a white lab coat, appeared beneath the door, lifted it up completely.

A man’s head with dark swept-back hair and a generous portion of grey in the temples appeared in the gap. Thick, wild eyebrows rose on his forehead, beneath which a pair of shining grey eyes regarded her with curiosity.

“Hello,” the man said.

Petal sat up from her seat, swung her legs over. “You the Doc?”

His shoulders slumped and he sighed. “It’s Doctor James Robertson. Sasha calls me Jimmy.”

“Is she in trouble?” Petal asked casually.

“She’s not employee of the month, that’s for sure. But you’re both alive, so it’s not all bad. Why don’t you come out of there and follow me to the medical bay? I hear you’ve had quite a rough time of it lately.”

“Lately? Huh, it’s an everyday occurrence, Doc.”

“Doctor Robertson.”

“Sure thing, Doc. Lead the way.”

Jimmy Robertson shook his head, held out a hand to her.

Petal took it, pulling herself out of the sub and onto the gantry. She took a few moments for her legs to get used to solid ground, took the opportunity to take in her environment. The place was devoid of colour and all business. It resembled a hangar with gantries and a large water-section housing a number of subs. A dozen men and women behind a glass observation room all stared down at her.

Two men in military fatigues escorted Sasha out of the compound. She remonstrated to no avail with a particularly large and balding figure whose face was red and swollen. His booming voice echoed around the place. Seems Sasha was in a fair bit of trouble after all.

Robertson stepped beside her and held out his arm.

“Welcome to Criborg,” he said. “Or, more specifically, Wake Island.”

“Who’s that losing their crap with Sasha?” Petal asked.

“That’s the General. General Vickers. He’s kind of the big cheese on the operation and military side of things here at Criborg.”

“Got a loud bark on him,” Petal said, noticing already that she was protective of her new friend, which in itself was a big assumption. Who knew what her relationship with Sasha would be now that they were safe.

“He’s a very capable man,” Dr Robertson, said. “Sasha’s impulsive, and although she did well by recovering you, she endangered us all.”

“Maybe she wouldn’t be so impulsive if you didn’t keep her locked away doing boring chores. Both you and I know she’s capable of more.” Petal said.

Robertson ran his hand through his hair before nodding. “We both know that yes, but she doesn’t, and neither does Vickers. I don’t want to risk her.”

She couldn’t help but notice the guilty look in his eyes. “Was I born here?” Petal asked.

Robertson opened his mouth to say something then closed it again, before eventually saying, “I suppose so.” He dropped his voice and moved in closer. “It’s not a simple story, but let me make sure your health is all right, and then we can go into all that. Okay?”

“Yeah, about the health thing. Apparently I’m dying.”

Chapter 18

G
erry ushered Malik, Cheska, Enna and the rest back down the corridor and into a cell, while Gabe ducked into another cell further down the corridor, trigger in hand. Detonation cord ran from the explosives now attached to the rear bulkhead wall of the cellblock. They were part of a vest that Gabe wore under his robes. Standard issue for the Red Widow’s ‘third wave’ regiment apparently.

Enna, huddled with the others spoke quietly, “Are you sure this is wise?”

“Nope. Not sure at all,” Gerry said. “But what other choice do we have?”

In the block there were ten cells either side. Gabe was in cell three. The rest of them huddled in groups of four in the first row nearest the entrance.

Heavy banging, screaming, and shotgun blasts came from the steel doors that separated the cellblock from the rest of the compound. Each smash and crash accompanied a string of frenzied yelling from the zealots on the other side. The doors buckled. Smoke billowed out in the gap between the doors and the floor. They’d breach their way through soon.

There were eight of them left in total: Malik, Cheska, Enna, Gabe, Gerry, and three citizens from GeoCity-1. Most were in fairly good condition. Gerry had helped remove their EM cuffs. Weapons-wise they had three shotguns and two stun-sickles. It was hardly an arsenal, but it would have to do.

Gabe poked his head out of the cell, gave them the thumbs-up.

A tense minute later and the main doors were finally breached in a cloud of smoke. A loud clatter reverberated around the cells as the heavy steel doors crashed inwards to the floor. The voices were frantic. Gerry watched the shadows pass by under the crack of his cell door.

This was it
, he thought, and still he had the nagging feeling of mistrust when it came to Gabe. Would he do what was necessary? Would he sell them out again? Was this all part of a plan? Were his loyalties now with—?

A huge crack erupted, making his ears pop and the cell door fly open, knocking him, Enna, and two others to the floor. The entire compound shook beneath the blast.

The frenzied shouting peaked into a series of high-pitched screams followed by a silence. Concrete dust filled the air, making Gerry cough.

An insistent ringing diminished his hearing. He clambered up from the floor and staggered out of the cell. He waved in vain to clear the air. Rays of weak moonlight creating a field of infinite motes came from a ragged hole in the compound wall at the end of the block.

Five Red Widow members lay dead in a heap by the hole.

None came from the open doors behind him, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before others would investigate.

He ushered the others out from their cell. They were saying something to him, their lips moving, their eyes wide and searching, but their voices were distant rumbles in a sea of whistling.

He beckoned them to follow. They picked up the Widow’s shotguns and any remaining ammo, discarding the ones damaged beyond use from the blast. The explosives had ripped and shredded their bodies. Gabe’s explosives had ignited their own vests creating a much bigger explosion than originally planned. Scorch marks burned into the grey concrete and Polymar™ leaving charred ghosts on the wall’s surface.

Gerry shouted for Gabe while inspecting Cell Three, but he wasn’t there.

Then, from outside of the hole in the wall, surrounded in dust and light came a silhouette.
That must be him
, Gerry thought. He ran forward to make sure he was okay, but as he approached, he noticed that the silhouette was still wore robes. Before Gerry could change direction, the shape came into full view: a fanatic. Her light-brown robes were caked in blood. She held a shotgun in her hands and levelled it at Gerry’s chest.

A gun blast rung out, sending Gerry diving to his left. Something hot and wet splashed his face as he tumbled to the ground in a heap. The Widow blinked once, dropped the shotgun, and fell to her face.

Gabe stood over her body. Smoke danced from the barrel of the shotgun in his hands. He wore a big stupid grin on his face. His dreadlocks swayed in the breeze like lazy snakes on a sunny day.

“Saved ya ass again,” Gabe said. “Told ya I had a plan.”

Gerry shook his head and wiped the blood from his face, coughing the smoke and debris from his lungs. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Crazy keeps ya alive, man.”

Gabe stepped over the bodies of the fanatics, helped Gerry to his feet. Together they made sure everyone else was okay before exiting the hole in the compound.

“Over here,” Gabe said, leading them past the rubble and out to a stretch of open grassland pockmarked by scorched patches, divots and craters of various sizes: the wounds upon the Earth of a struggle for a dying city. The compound existed mostly underground. Only sections of its roof were visible on the surface. They sprinted around the compound until they came to the familiar banks that led down to the service access road from where they were originally taken in.

“We have to move quickly,” Gerry said to Gabe. “They’ll be on us like ants as soon as they realise what’s happened.”

“Ya gotta learn to trust me, man,” Gabe said. He led them down the grassy bank to the concreted surface. One of the trucks still remained. Two guards stood by the steel doors. They spoke on their radios—small digital devices embedded in their ears—and gabbled for a while in their consonant-heavy language before rushing inside the compound.

Gerry didn’t understand, whispered to Gabe. “What’re they saying?”

“They mentioned an explosion. They’ll be on us soon. We gotta shift.”

Gerry turned to signal to the others following them. He pointed to the truck, and they all sprinted down the banks. Gabe, Enna, and Gerry took the front seats with Enna taking the wheel. Gabe said he’d navigate. The others took their position inside the back of the truck, on the bench seats. Before they headed off, Gerry got into the truck’s computer and took its communications transceiver offline so that it couldn’t be easily tracked.

“Where are we headed?” Enna said after starting the truck and backing it away from the compound and turning to face the city.

“Right where ya facing,” Gabe said. “Deep into the city, we need to find a place to hide and regroup, formulate a plan of action to find Omega.”

Enna turned on the headlights, pressed the accelerator, and headed into the narrow streets of the Darkhan. Gerry watched through the mirrors, expecting streams of lights from ATVs and Jaguars to follow, but with all the confusion, it seemed they had bought a precious few minutes of time. Before the Widows had fully realised what had happened, they should be able to find a place to park up and stay hidden.

As Enna drove the truck, Gerry took the opportunity to quiz Gabe some more. “Tell me more about Criborg. What do you know about them?”

“As far as I know, they’re a group of military and science people leftover from the war. The Widows had a few skirmishes with their drone UAVs and even a ship. We never could tell how many there were over there.”

“Where are they?”

“A place called Wake Island, out in the Pacific, off the Sea of Japan,” Enna said over her shoulder. “It’s the base of operations for what was an allied American/Canadian/British group. I believe it is they who made, or at least developed, Petal, for her dermal implant chip was one of theirs.”

“That’s a bit of an assumption,” Gerry said.

“Kinda,” Gabe replied. “From my investigations within the Widows, I found a number of dossiers on their pre- and during war capabilities. They were known for making ‘borgs and ‘droids.”

“So Petal’s not human?”

“Yeah, she is, but not as we know it,” Enna said. “That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t help her. It seemed like her DNA was breaking down, mutating. I couldn’t do anything about it. It’s way beyond anything I’ve had to deal with. It’s an outside chance, admittedly, but it’s the only other way I could think of saving her.”

Gabe added, “And that ain’t the only reason,”

Gerry knew there’d be something else involved. It was never that simple with Enna and Gabe. They always seemed to be plotting or planning some scheme. “What is it this time?”

“I sent her back with a slate. It had some info about the Widows on it. We’re hoping they can lend us a hand. Gez, the Widows are more capable than ya think. It ain’t just the Dome under threat. It’s everyone who doesn’t get with the new program. It’s everyone who ain’t pure, unaltered. Basically almost everyone left. Theses mentalists see this burnt shell of a planet as their Eden. They wanna restart humanity, but wanna clean away the tech first, ya understand?”

“Yeah, I understand. Just the flip-side to The Family.”

Once over the worst of the waste ground, Gerry got Enna to stop the vehicle and turn off the lights. They swapped seats, with Gerry behind the wheel. Darkness shrouded the city. It was gone 01:10 and thick clouds periodically snuffed out the moon’s rays. The only light came from the few fires keeping the desperate warm. He turned on his night-vision and navigated the truck through the tight alleys until he found access to the loading bay of a skeleton of a skyscraper. He parked in the shadows and shut off the engines.

A few dark shapes within that rubble-strewn bay moved past the truck. Just a group of men and women dressed in rags, no doubt disturbed by the truck’s presence. Gerry waited until they had gone, turned to the others. “I need to get to her,” he said mostly to himself.

“No time yet,” Gabe said. “We need to locate Omega.”

He knew the old hacker was right, but the desire to see Petal again, to see her safe made him desperate to take the truck and head east to Criborg.

Thinking about the whole situation, he wondered if he should contact The Family. His connection to their system was still operational, and perhaps he should warn them about Red Widow’s plans. But then, they must know about them, surely? He doubted Red Widow’s advancement into Darkhan and GeoCity-1 had gone unnoticed, but then why no response? He doubted they really cared. The security inside the Dome had been massively increased. They probably thought nothing of it; kept focus with their plans.

A rumble overhead from a Jaguar circling around the dead towers of Darkhan made the truck hum with the vibrations.

“None of us can stay here for long,” Gerry said. “We need to get out into the city and track down that other server ASAP, then find safety.”

“Ain’t nowhere safe in this ol’ town, man. The crazies have it locked down.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Gerry fidgeted in his seat, eager to get going before the sun came back up. He didn’t fancy his chances of staying hidden during the daylight.

Enna interjected, “I suggest we get Old Grey up and running, use her to help track the other server. Cut down on the random factor of just wandering around the place.”

“How?” Gerry said, slumping in the truck’s seat. “If the Meshwork is suppressed, we don’t have any network to use. I only have a connection to The Family because of the stuff they’ve added in my head, and right now I don’t know if it’s safe to get them involved.”

“I guess we connect Old Grey to the truck’s power supply and see what happens,” Enna said.

“That sounds too hopeful. I’m not sitting here doing nothing,” Gerry said already reaching for the door as the Jaguar peeled away to circle further into the city. “Malik, you stay here so I can communicate with you and the rest of the group. I’ll go scout out around the city, see if I can detect any data signals. Even with the suppression, there must be something.”

“Ah, man, this ain’t right, we should wait,” Gabe said.

Gerry pointed out of the truck’s window to a group of three hobos huddled around a pile of trash at the corner of the skyscraper where it met the street.

“How long before one of them causes a scene, huh? How long before their interest brings those mad fanatics to this location?”

Gabe shook his head, but Gerry was having none of it. He turned to Enna, “Sit tight, and wait for my communications. I’m going out there.”

Before anyone had the chance to act, he opened the door and stepped out into the warm night air. The shadow of the skyscraper, now long and angular, hid the truck. As Gerry engaged his stealth protocol, he moved closer to the building, feeling its rough, bullet-wounded facade against his body. The hobos looked up towards him, their honed senses telling them something had changed in the atmosphere and they ambled off into the street, rubbing their grubby faces with worn, dirty-gloved hands.

Beyond the pile of trash, a stream of people floated down a street in front of the skyscraper. He dodged between shanty camps of filthy cloth tents and the obligatory drum-fires that gathered the restless like beacons.

Via his connection to The Family’s station, he hacked into the system anonymously, not wanting to alert Jachz, who by now was probably doing all he could to scan his location and get into his feeds. He found the layout for Darkhan, downloaded the map and schematics data.

—
Mags, model the map in 3D on the HUD. Filter buildings that used to be on the power grid, and ones that are defensible either by height or location.

—
Processing, updating
.

There were five locations within a kilometre: three on the other side of a bridge, which Gerry knew would be guarded well, and two on his side of the city. The closest one, an old subway station converted to a bank, was situated approximately eight hundred metres away.

“I found a possible location,” Gerry said over his VPN to Malik, “I’m on route. Will update shortly.”

“Got that. Take it easy, Gerry.”

He slipped into the flotsam of the sea of survivors, picked various items of loose clothing and rags off passers-by, disguised himself as one of the pure, the unaltered. Looking at them as he walked down the main street towards the subway station he realised that even though they were considered pure, their lives were barely worth living. The conditions were such that they lived off food grown in fields still recovering from radiation, drinking water distilled in rain-silos that sat atop buildings like transparent pyramids.