Infected 8: Impulse: A Whole New Day (35 page)

"I don't know. Any word yet from Delaura? The one tailing Joe... the spy king?"

"Yes, actually. She might have been a librarian her whole life, but the woman was built to be a secret agent. She's managed to keep in touch at regular intervals, and has been calling in with reports. Joe actually hasn't contacted anyone, except his boss. The telephone company one. We either scared the fear of God into him, or he's more of a pro than I thought. After all, we threatened to kidnap and export his higher ups. By refusing to get in touch with them, he's keeping them safe. I wish we had a good telepath that could pluck that information from him for us." There was no sense of a knowing look, or anything like that, just an offhand comment.

"Me too. The closest we have right now is Sinclair, I think, with her amazing Kreskin act. That worked pretty well, didn't it? 'I see... porn... lots of smut...' Like all guys his age aren't mainlining the stuff? Speaking of which we need to get some computers in here. I'm going into online withdrawal." Not for sex pictures, or even videos, in particular. It was just the flow of constant data that she missed.

"Another thing that's coming. As soon as we can get people in for it. When they come we'll want to shadow them the entire time to keep the telephone situation from happening again. I almost hate sending people away, but you have that one right. We need to diversify, and spread out so that we aren't as easy to hit. Really, we need to send some agents with them. We have four incoming. A lot of the men from the sub-stations are AWOL. The operatives that were out with them, too."

"Like they
should
be. It was part of the protocols. Who's coming? Burkes, I got that one from the phone call he made yesterday, but who else?"

"Damot, Clease and Lincoln. They're all from the Dallas office. So this is a promotion for them. Lucky guys, getting to work here, in the big office." She looked around again, since their state of the art compound was lacking in a few particulars. Like almost anything useful.

"I don't know them." The phone rang again just then, one of the four on the table, and it happened to be the one closest to her, so she picked it up.

"Bridget Chambers, IPB main office. How can I help you?" She'd been taught how to answer a phone professionally, and knew that her mother would have given her about a 'B' on that one. She should have said "how
may
I help you" she knew. Hopefully it wasn't her mom on the other end of the line.

The man that spoke had a rich, if slightly tentative voice. It was sort of familiar, meaning that she'd probably met him before.

"Um, this is Senator John Roberts. I was hoping I could connect with your new Director? I know that after your great loss... Karen Young was a friend of mine. Brian Yi, too. I... I'm so sorry. Bridget, I think we've met?" He didn't mention her parents, which was either cowardly or kind of him, depending on his reasoning. If it was about avoiding a girl meltdown, well,
that
was understandable. No one really wanted to put up with one of those, did they?

"We have, Senator. Ms. Turner is in, but we have an event taking place, in Seattle? A school being taken over by class threes. We were called in by one of the students. Timmy. He'd already engaged with them, but was injured. Broken arm, I think?" She looked at Marcia, who nodded. "So we sent in Dharma. She's the only one of us that can get there in time to help. We lost... everything. We can't even turn on the news channels to see what's going on."

"Oh? I can. One second here. Let's see if this has made the... There we go, Monroe Elementary. Oh... Okay, it looks like something is going on there. A boy... About twelve or so? He's... uh... fighting with a group of other kids. Given that one of them just flipped a car over, I guess those are the ones we were...." He stopped dead, and cleared his throat. "They all just fell down. Not the boy cradling his arm, but the other boys and girls. They look a bit old for elementary school. It seems that the local police are closing in? That... seems to be taking care of that. I guess your Operative got into place?"

There were sounds that came from the television on the other line, which Bridget didn't need explained. It was soft, being picked up at a distance. The police were shooting the already downed kids. Probably Timmy, too. They did that sometimes, because even when beaten the truth was that the police were
afraid
of people with superpowers. If they didn't see Becky there, they might just assume that
Tim
had knocked the others out.

Except that it wasn't that at all.

Roberts swore, but his voice wasn't upset, just excited, like he'd just seen the home team make a goal.

"Whoa! I...That kid, Tim? A man came out of the crowd and started to shoot at the police, he ran over and tackled him. I'm not sure how
that
worked, but they have the shooter. I don't think anyone was hit."

Bridget repeated it all, which got Marcia to take over the phone, since it was easier for Bridget to eavesdrop on the line than it was for her to get a slow second or third hand report.

It took a while for it to all unfold, but by the time the Senator was willing to get off the line so they could work, Becky was standing there, next to the table. She looked... good, really.

For someone that had died three years before.

The girl that Bridget saw was her old friend, but a little thinner through the body and shoulders. Her hair was a rust red, like Karen's was, and she was pale, with smooth skin that didn't have any freckles. Her skin was unlined, since she'd died at nineteen, and her mouth showed just a hint of lip coloring, so that she'd look professional. She was dressed up in an all black fighting suit, one that looked to be made of some kind of high tech fiber, but was heavy, like Swat armor. It had padding in it. Given that none of it was real, Bridget figured it was all about intimidation tactics. She'd dressed herself up in an illusion meant to scare bad kids straight.

"Becky! You made it. What happened?" Bridget knew that no cameras, if any were in place yet, would see the other girl. There were benefits to not being alive. For
some
people. The rest of them were just gone, as far as Bridget had heard. There might be an afterlife, but even Becky was kind of vague on what came next.

"It was pretty straight forward. Those kids thought that the IPB being gone meant that they could do whatever they wanted, and had the right first modes to figure that taking on a school full of little kids was a good plan. That kid, Timmy, had different ideas. Too bad Brian's out of town. He would have cried tears of pride seeing that. They beat him up, pretty good, but the little guy didn't give up. They were going for round
three
when I got Chris to just KO them all. We should get that kid a medal or something."

Bridget nodded.

"Maybe we should? That's not bad, standing his ground like that. It would look better if he'd
won
, but he got that shooter. That's pretty sweet, right?"

The ghost girl let her eyes glisten then smiled, sadly.

"He
did
. A grown man. Not Infected either. What's going on? I mean, we expected trouble, but this is insane. I thought the military would move in, and... Martial law... or something. This seems different. Braid, do you think?"

Giving the room a quick glance, Marcia nodded. She didn't speak however, but Bridget did, her mouth working on its own.

"We pretty much have to assume it's her behind it all, for now. That was strange, wasn't it? Timmy calling
us
like that, directly? Did he just have the IPB on speed dial, or what?"

Becky rolled her eyes then walked over to pat Bridget on the back. She felt real, but wasn't. Not exactly. Still, they were friends, so she returned the gesture.

"I know, it's crazy, but that's
exactly
what it was. He's a member of the Proxy Union. You know, Brian's wacked out group of cult like followers? They take an oath to fight to the death, to protect people. They all have the IPB numbers too. The main one at least. It was started by some Canadian guy. Tobias. That's all I know about it. If they're all that hard core, we should recruit them though. If nothing else you'd
better
give him a call, Bridget. That, or visit. The kid deserves something special."

Her instant reply was that she could blow him, because what twelve year old boy wouldn't think
that
was a good reward, but she held it in, meaning she was silent for a long time, before she was certain her mouth wouldn't betray her.

"I can at least get in touch. Thanks, Becks. We couldn't have done anything without you. I don't suppose you'd be willing to help out around here? We have a bit before the government gives us a new set of planes, and the new people are... raw. I literally got them all by getting them amnesty for their crimes. At least one of them is an actual criminal, too. Like, professionally. You'll like him, he's got lots of muscles, walks through walls, and has a shaved head. It looks totally badass. That plus being a bad boy means he's exactly your type, right?"

She giggled, which was the first time that Bridget could remember that ever happening. Being dead had really lightened Becky's mood a lot. Her first mode had been angst, or so the psych people had told them all. Bridget wasn't certain it
had
been that exactly, but close enough. She'd ended up stepping off a building, to end her own life. Dharma had been super strong and fast, but only a bit tougher than a regular person. So she'd impacted hard enough to stop the pain.

It made her sad to think about it, so she didn't, just giving the ghost of her oldest friend a hug.

"Please? I know that it's probably hard, now that you aren't attached to anyone, but it could save lives, and who knows, maybe help stop a war."

She held Bridget closely for a bit, then stood back, her unreal hands still on the slender shoulders.

"Right, because anyone listening can hear
you
, but not me. I'm in, though. Chris too. Oh, Bridgie, your parents send their love. They know you can't call, but visit soon, if possible. Katarine sent her love too. I think she likes you. You know, like a sister?" There was no playing to the words, but that was probably truthful enough.

The woman kept attacking her, since her hyper reflexes forced her too. But when Bridget was there, she didn't hurt anyone else by accident. It wouldn't shock anyone to find out that Katarine, the former Soviet Spetnaz Ultima soldier, actually liked having a tiny red-headed punching bag around. It was even possible that the lady didn't think of her that way, but rather as a friend. After all, when you kept stabbing someone and they didn't do much more than give you a hug, it was hard to really hate them.

"Tell them all that I miss them? Everyone else too. It's true. I wish they were here, and not on the other side. Luckily you can tell them things for us. We're doing the best we can, but it isn't easy. I really wish everyone was still here." She honestly did. Not that they were dead, she reminded herself.

Not yet. Someday it would be the truth though, and she'd still be there, carrying on, without them. There was no other choice really.

Changing the subject, she looked over at Marcia.

"We should be getting some computers in later? I'm going to run out of money soon at this rate. I'm keeping my receipts, so I expect the IPB to cover most of it. That, and pay me more now. As super secret deputy sub-director in charge of babysitting I should be worth at least full time pay, don't you agree? I'm going to need it to get a car that's small enough I can see over the steering wheel. The van is cool, but not what I'd have picked for myself." Her gaze took in Becky too, who looked over at Marcia, meaningfully.

The woman shrugged.

"Yep. Full pay. Full time and hazard for anytime you see combat in that week. It's the standard arrangement.
Chief of Operations Coordination
is the title, however. Before you ask, that means you need to be on top of everything,
all
the time. Get
all
the numbers and names and guard that book with your life. Make sure the computers get encrypted and that everyone has what they need. Soap, soup and socks. The whole seventeen yards. Normally you'd get paid more for doing that job, but I haven't gotten into the accounts yet, since it will take ten days from the reported death of the Director to the first chance to change the codes by the Deputy Director. It would be thirty days if everyone was gone and some lower level person was trying to take over. It's designed that way to make sure no one just kills us all for a cash grab."

Bridget clapped a few times, her face focused however, even as her body moved on its own.

"
Chief
. That reminds me then. I need to go and see about our new Operative. The local Police Chief? The one that tried to have Brian killed? He's
Infected
. He has a kind of close time span precognition that I bet is part of the reason he kept going after Proxy like that. When things would start to happen, Brian would jam him up, like he does Braid, and the man panicked, not understanding what was going on, assuming that it had to be a threat to
him
personally. Maybe not though. Anyway, as far as I can tell, he's a
complete
tool, but he's ours now. It's the rule."

Becky laughed, and then looked at Bridget and pushed at her shoulder. After a second she looked at Marcia and sobered a little.

"Wait, you're
serious
? How many of the anti-Infected crowd are, um, our people then? At this rate you'd think that their group members would be starting to have some problems." She looked over at Impulse, and pointed to her black shirt, with its bright white lettering on the front. "Is that why you're wearing that? To convince the wannabe Nazi's that they're on the wrong side?"

She looked down, having forgotten about the fact that she'd become a TCC billboard.

"What,
this
? Not really. I just had to get some clothing and only the one place was open with anything that could fit me. Still, they sold it to me, and we chatted politely, even with them knowing who I was the whole time. There was no spitting
or
name calling either. If all of their kind acted like that, we probably wouldn't have half the problems we do with them. Really though, now that you mention it, and the thought has occurred to me, I think that a
lot
of the hate movement is actually part of Braid's plan. Every time we get to whoever is actually behind something, they all seem to lead back to her, don't they?" Holding up her right hand, she started counting things off. "Hooper was in thick with all of them, right near the top, and was working with Braid directly. Through Stillness, but they were in a meeting at one point, together." The one where Penny killed them both.