The Independent Worlds (The Sixteen Galaxies Book 2) (17 page)

Kestil nodded. “Keep up the good work, I shall check on the AI’s progress.” He headed for the doorway to the little room where David was, but he was pulled up short by a tone in his ear he knew only too well. He cursed his rotten luck, and portaled up to his office.

Once in his office, Kestil shut the door and pressed a key on his private console. A small hologram of Prestern appeared. “Greetings, my boy, greetings. How is the Starchild? Has your AI penetrated it yet?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid, but it’s only been 37 hours. By his own reckoning, it will take 76 hours, maybe one or two less.”

“Well,” Prestern replied, “whatever you do, don’t damage it. The covert transport is enroute and will be in orbit in 48 hours’ time; you should have gotten what you need before then. Just don’t kill it, whatever you do. Access for your AI is secondary to my needs here; remember that.”

Kestil gave a small bow. “I understand, of course. I will ensure the Starchild is not at risk of death. I really want my AI to get in, though; the knowledge and technology in that head will make my AI a formidable opponent here on Earth. I’m tired of Nuthros and his interference. With the Starchild’s data, my AI will make the Earth a complete no-go zone for Truly and the Entity.”

“Indeed,” Prestern said. “And when I get it here, it will make my creation unstoppable. The entire universe will be a no-go area for the Sixteen Galaxies. I shall wait to hear from you when the Starchild is transferred to the transport.”

Kestil cut the link and headed down to David’s room again.
‘Report your progress.’

‘No progress, as yet. I am analyzing the code of the protection matrix; it is rewriting itself constantly. I am yet to establish the patterns within the shift. Until I do that, I have no progress to report. The runtime dedicated to binary protection of the human network may be small, but it would increase my chances slightly. It would be better used on the Starchild.’

‘No. With an unprotected network, Nuthros and his team could find us.’

‘I can deal with any serious threat to our perimeter.’

‘I said no.’

‘Very well.’

*****

Global News Update

“…US President Michael Maitland threw the switch today which onlined the very first Vincent Generator. The president arrived amid heavy security. Although the Letterbox Sniper has not carried out an attack for over two months, the US president is a priority target for anti-globalism protesters, who have vowed to stop the integration process ‘by any means necessary’.

“Meanwhile, wildcat strikes by hundreds of thousands of civil service employees across Europe are having a severe impact. With tens of thousands of civil service jobs rumored to be under threat from the proposed global integration, workers are determined to fight the changes. The transport industry is up in arms, as rumors of a global transportation system that would mean thousands of jobs lost continue to spread. In France, dozens of roads were blocked by protesting bus drivers. While in Italy, train drivers unintentionally put paid to a planned anti-globalization rally by calling a strike just four hours before the event was to begin. Calls are being made for better coordination between strikers and protesters after the mix-up.”

*****

Cutlass Creek, Oklahoma State

A small cloud of dust fell from the bell above the door when Mandy entered the little town’s general store. She sneezed as gently as she could. The last thing she needed was for her wig to fall off. Light fought its way through the dirty windows and seeped into the dark room in a very limited fashion. Mandy could barely see the back of the store from the front.

“Most folks use the side door; sorry about that.” Mandy saw a heavyset woman in her forties approach the counter from a room out the back. The woman wiped her brow with a rag. “How can I help you?”

“Well,” Mandy said, “I’m looking for a young man by the name of John Crabtree; he served in the army with my son.”

The woman’s face clouded over. She took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. “Oh yeah? What you want with the Crabtree boy?”

Mandy had a story all worked out. After all, stories were her life. “My son passed away two and a half months back.” She turned and stared out the window. “I hardly knew him after he came back from overseas. It was like some part inside of him were missing. He wouldn’t talk to me, and he wouldn’t get help.” She raised her eyes to meet the other woman’s. She saw the stony face had softened. “It was me that found him,” Mandy whispered.

“Oh my dear,” the woman said. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was hoping,” Mandy continued, “to get an idea of what he went through over there; why he did what he did. I guess it would give me some closure.”

The woman shook her head. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re out of luck, I’m afraid.”

Mandy’s heart fell. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“John disappeared about six months back. Him and his two brothers ain’t been seen or heard of since the government took over their property round about then. I Reckon they got themselves in a whole pile of trouble and they been arrested. They were always up to no good, those three. John should’ve stayed in the army.”

“Oh,” Mandy said, “what a shame. Goodness, I wonder what the government wants their land for.”

The lady shrugged. “Probably just decided to take it back.”

“Take it back?”

“It used to be one of them missile silos from the cold war days. John and his brothers bought it ten years ago. Probably preparing for the zombie apocalypse, knowing them three.”

Mandy thanked the woman and took her leave. She headed up the road to the train station.

*****

Global News Update

“…US president Michael Maitland announced at a press conference today that a special referendum will be held in just two weeks’ time to get the public’s opinion on the matter of global integration. ‘It’s time to decide, America. Enough blood has already been shed. Let’s get this decision over and done with.’ President Maitland called on all nations to make their minds up on where they stood on globalization. ‘There is unrest and protest the world over,’ he said, ‘And all country’s leaders must take responsibility before the situation degrades even further.’ Both the Japanese prime minister and the French president have already publicly agreed with President Maitland on the need for referendums in their countries. It is expected many more will follow suit.”

*****

Kestil’s base

John Crabtree scowled at the map of the base. “Our defenses are negligible, Kestil. Assault rifles, a couple of heavy machine guns, and a few SAM launchers. If they get any kind of attack vehicle, like a Bradley, or a troop carrier, near this place…”

Kestil waved a hand. “They won’t, John. My AI has the place covered by satellite 24/7. No vehicle could get near this place. Besides, it can simply shut their vehicle down via it’s CPU.”

John tapped a finger on the map. “Some vehicles don’t have CPU’s, in case of an EMP attack. But what about an airborne assault?”

Kestil laughed. “How do they keep an aircraft aloft without electronics?” He patted John on the back. “Relax, John. They can’t even find the place without accessing the human network. I’m sure we have enough firepower for any group that managed to get this far. Besides, Maitland assured me he could supply aircraft for any serious threat.”

John rubbed his forehead. “Alright. I’m headed upstairs. Me and Barney are going to walk the perimeter; make sure of no unwelcome visitors.”

Kestil nodded. “You go ahead and do that, John. I can assure you, though; there is no risk of an attack.”

*****

Western Queensland

Mandy sat with Nuthros, Ron and Jack. She hadn’t acknowledged Jack’s presence in any way since she returned two hours ago, and he took it on the chin. They pored over the survey maps Mandy had brought back with her. She had circled John’s base in red pen. There were only three old missile silos anywhere near Cutlass Creek. Two were still privately owned, and the other had been resumed by the federal government seven months ago; it was a no-brainer.

Ron pointed to the ridges that ran either side of the base. “We need a look from either of those ridges. The old realty photos from when John bought it show virtually nothing.”

A hologram of the entire base suddenly appeared on the tabletop. “What the hell?” Mandy said. “I busted my ass to get those photos and maps, and you had details the whole time, Truly?”

“No, I did not, Mandy. I had no location for the base until you arrived with the maps. Once I had the location, I used a satellite feed and some other information to construct that schematic. I have just completed planning for David’s recovery.”

Nuthros sat bolt upright. “You accessed a satellite?! How could you do that without an attack from Kestil’s AI?”

“Because, Nuthros my man,” Garth said from the doorway, “my buddy Noddy is the most badass hacker you ever will meet.”

They all stared dumbfounded at Garth. He laughed. “What, you think me, Noddy and the others just been hanging out playing video games while you guys try to save the world? Come on! We have, with a little help from Truly, well, a lot of help from Truly, built a rockin’ monster PC hooked up to some seriously off-the-planet hardware that gives us a way in undetected.” He warded off Mandy’s warning glare with upraised hands. “Even I don’t know all the details; only Truly does. Noddy got us into the K-band satellite internet. We also got into a few other satellites, including the one Truly used.”

Ron clapped his hands. “Right, then. Well done Garth, and thank the other boys, too. Okay, Truly, run us through it, please.”

Truly increased the size of the hologram, and manipulated it as she spoke. “From what I have been able to glean,” Truly began, “Kestil’s base is a refurbished Atlas F missile silo. However, they have made some changes. The Only access to the base itself is through the silo; a huge vertical shaft. It is 52 feet in diameter and 180 feet deep. It has two concrete doors at the top, which are closed hydraulically from the control center, here, near the surface. The control center is heavily guarded, and we shall avoid the need to access it. The doors at the top of the shaft are always open, but they have been made fully operational, and will doubtless be closed at the first sign of an attack. Ron and Jack will have to drop into the silo before those doors close. The real issue, though, is the heavy steel blast door they have installed at the very bottom of the shaft. The blast door is opened from the area immediately inside the new complex, and is guarded around the clock by a team of at least six armed men.”

Ron frowned. “How could you tell all that from a satellite image?”

“The US government took over security and maintenance for the complex seven months ago, Ron. The maintenance contractors installed all the upgrades and, naturally, stored all the measurements and specifications off-site. Graeme hacked their database just over an hour ago. I now know as much as anyone about this place.”

“I told ya,” Garth said, “Noddy’s one badass hacker, man.” He lost his broad grin as they all stared at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I guess I’ll go back and hang out with the other guys.” He shuffled off down the corridor.

“They have constructed an entire separate facility at the bottom of the shaft,” Truly continued, “and that is where David will be held. There is an elevator built into the side of the shaft to get to this area, but that will be deactivated as soon as the alarm sounds. The new part of the facility is four levels deep, and the laboratory and computer areas are on the bottom level.”

“Naturally,” Jack sighed.

“There is a stairwell in the south-west corner, and that is the only way down to the lower levels. Once you get through the blast door at the bottom of the shaft, you will go straight to the stairwell.”

Ron shook his head. “This gets to be more fun by the minute.”

“The entire complex is powered by three large generators, which are on the third level down and towards the north-west corner. You shall not need to access these to offline the power, though.”

“Well,” Jack said, “it all looks perfectly impossible and we’re all going to die. I take it you have all these problems covered, Truly?”

“I have developed a plan, Jack, yes. I have fabricated the necessary equipment to get through the blast door and turn off the power. The weapons you require are in the locker room, along with a rucksack each.”

“Right then,” Jack replied, “let’s tool up and get ourselves to Oklahoma, shall we?”

“Actually, Jack,” Truly said, “you and Ron are off to Arizona. The rest are staying here.”

Ron and Jack looked at each other. “Arizona?!” Jack said. “What’s the deal with that, Truly?”

“You will see when you get there, Jack. You will be portaled there in just under two hours.”

“Why do we have to wait two hours?” Ron asked.

“To avoid detection from satellites, Ron,” Truly replied.

Jack frowned. “What are we supposed to do for two hours?”

“I don’t know what Ron’s going to do,” Mandy said, “but
you’re
coming for a walk with me.”

Kestil’s base

David’s mind was on fire. The pain was easily ignored; he could simply shut down any noisy pain receptors and feel nothing. It was the constant probes that Kestil’s AI sent that ate away at him. Relentless pinpricks of test code designed to capture fragments of the matrix that guarded his brain; to understand and interpret the ever-shifting structure and resolve a key to unlock the algorithms and gain access.

He knew it would succeed in the time frame he had predicted for Kestil. There’d been no need to lie about it. Either the plan he and Truly put in place months ago worked, and he was freed, or the AI got in and extracted all the data it needed to rebuild itself yet again; this time based on David’s brain structure. The architecture of David’s mind made a quantum computer look like a child’s toy abacus. But even such advanced design would cave in eventually to the constant bombardment it currently endured. He and Truly knew the risk they were taking. If Kestil’s AI succeeded and rebuilt itself again, they would lose the Earth, and mankind with it.

*****

Western Queensland

Mandy and Jack sat opposite one another at a table adjacent to the pool. Neither spoke for a while. Both had spent enough time around Nuthros to become accustomed to periods of silence before conversation.

Eventually Mandy took a deep breath. “I will ask you this just once, Jack. You can either give me an honest answer here and now, or refuse. If you refuse, I will never ask you again. I will assume you did kill them, and I will spend the rest of my life attempting to make you pay for what you did. I don’t know how, but you will have to kill me to stop me. Do you understand?”

Jack nodded. Mandy’s heart pounded; she had waited so long for this moment; ever since Kestil told her Jack had murdered her parents. She gave an involuntary shiver. “Right; a simple yes or no. Did you kill my parents?”

Jack looked up and held her gaze. “No. I did not kill your parents, Mandy.”

Mandy’s head spun. She felt an immense weight lifted off her shoulders. “Then why did Kestil-”

Jack grabbed her hands in his. “I did not kill them Mandy, but I was sent to.”

*****

Chicago, Illinois, 2005

He watched the fire start; a perfect set. With the match still in his hand, he ran for the back door, where his exit was interrupted by a right fist to his face.

Karl Winters reeled back, with blood flowing freely from a broken nose. He reached behind him and whipped out a combat knife, all too conscious of the warmth from the blaze that rapidly grew behind him. He sized up the man who blocked his path and apprehension washed over him. This chap was slightly crouched and up on the balls of his feet; every inch a pro. Karl saw that the bloke was soaked through; water dripped off him, but Karl couldn’t remember it raining outside. He shoved that aside in his mind as irrelevant. Winters knew he was sent as a backup, when the first operative failed to complete the mission. He couldn’t be sure the man that blocked his path was the original operative, but that would be his best guess. If it was, then he’d had a change of heart.

Karl felt the heat on his back, and he fought back a cough as tendrils of smoke curled around him. He feinted a sweep with the knife, then snaked the blade around and drove it in a straightforward lunge at his opponent’s chest. His thrust was sidestepped, and he stumbled forward slightly. He kept going, then turned and swept the knife in a sideways slash. The laser-sharpened blade sliced through cloth and connected with flesh. His opponent grunted in pain. Karl shifted his weight and put a sidekick into the wounded man’s ribs. He was rewarded with a satisfying crack. The other man gasped and staggered back. The heat was intense, and the first smoke alarm went off.

Desperate to end the fight and get out, Karl lunged at the throat, but his opponent’s haphazard steps backwards were a ruse. Karl tried desperately to pull back as the man stepped sideways and grabbed his knife hand. A tight twist and a hard squeeze on the carpal tunnel released the knife, which the man then grabbed and drove into Karl’s chest with all his strength. Karl’s legs buckled under him and he went down. The light around him dimmed, and he knew he was done for.

Justin Blake pulled the knife from the dying man’s chest, and quickly searched him for the USB drives. He found and pocketed them, then bent down near the floor and took a deep breath. Justin plunged headlong into the flames without the slightest hesitation. The stairs were ablaze but he made it up them; his hair singed and clothes smoking. The minutes he’d lost drenching himself with the garden hose outside were well worth it. He went for the daughter first; he knew that’s what Peter Somers would want. The alarm had obviously roused the girl, but the smoke had overcome her before she could get out. He found her unconscious on the bedroom floor.

Justin swept her up and kicked out the window. He cleared as much glass as he could with his boot before he pushed Mandy through. He followed her out and they both went for an untidy tumble down the portico roof outside. Broken glass cut into them both, but the alternative was much worse. He could hear cries from next door and sirens in the distance. They both landed heavily on the outdoor setting below. He checked Mandy; she was still out cold, with cuts and bruises all over, but she’d live. He dragged her clear of the belching smoke, and out onto the back lawn. Justin threw a quick glance inside the house, but the place was an inferno; the parents were goners. He staggered out to the back fence and somehow got himself over it.

He lay on the other side for a moment to catch his breath, but he could hear people everywhere, now. He got up and ran for his car, which was parked on the other side of the little park he was in. As he drove away, the area was a sea of flashing red and blue lights.

*****

Western Queensland, Present Day

Mandy gently pulled her hands out of Jack’s grip and sat back. It dawned on her that she hadn’t tried to free them the whole time he’d talked. Jack sat and stared into space. His mind was still back in the flames and blood of that murderous night. He’d unloaded a burden with the weight of twelve years on it, Mandy realized. But she knew he had many more years of secrets bottled up inside him.

She gazed at him; this man she hadn’t really known at all for twelve years. What did it do to you, she wondered, when you discovered that all the dark acts you performed for years of your life were nothing more than the worst of crimes? In another era, he’d be a hero; an unsung legend, a defender of the crown. But this wasn’t those times. What did good and bad even mean anymore?

Her mind turned to the people that sent him. Those that honed and sharpened him into a weapon of hell-bent destruction. This Hilary woman, her department, even the British government itself; what gave them the right to decide who lived, and who died? And what did their victims die for? To cover the tracks of some greedy, aristocratic low-life who wouldn’t hesitate to spit on a man like Jack if he felt so inclined.

A question came to Mandy’s mind. It was a good question, she thought. “Why all the years since then, Jack?”

Jack roused himself from his reverie. “Hmm?”

“Why spend all those years with me?”

He looked down at his hands. “I…I had to save something out of the wreckage, I guess. I had to do what I could to atone for the wrongs of the past.” He sat back, but still held her gaze. “I couldn’t bring your parents back to you, and I’ve lived with that every day since. But, at least I could save you. I decided to stay as close as I could, so I took an identity and a job that would keep me as close as I could get.”

Mandy shook her head. “What about the oil company? What about your department? You could have used the flash drives and brought the whole thing down around yourself.”

He gave her a bitter smile. “That’s not how it works, Mandy. All I would have brought down was me.” He looked away. “And those around me, most likely. I worked in the dirty end of town, Mandy. That’s where the bad guys always win.”

“No, I don’t believe that,” Mandy replied. “You should have exposed them; finished my Dad’s work. Why have you just kept yourself hidden all these years?”

“You don’t understand how powerful and determined these people are, Mandy. They have dozens of guys like me, and they can always get more. They’d just keep sending them until we were dead.”

“That doesn’t make it right to do
nothing
,” she retorted. She felt the heat rise in her forehead. She knew it was unfair, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You always told me the kill was worth the fight; they were
your words
, dammit. Time and again you told me that. Whenever I wanted to quit, whenever it got too tough. And the whole time, you were too gutless to-”

He smashed a fist into the tabletop. It buckled, but he didn’t notice. “
They would have killed you! Alright?!
They would have…they would have
killed
you, Mandy. Just like they killed your Mom and Dad.”

Mandy got to her feet. She’d never felt so conflicted before. It was wrong to attack Jack like this, and she knew it. The rage, the hatred; it should be aimed, not at Jack, but at those that sent him. Her ability to reason lost the fight with her burning anger, and she leaned over the table at Jack, her eyes ablaze. “I want those flash drives, Jack. You’re going to give them to me. And then, I’m going to make them pay.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand, I can’t, I just can’t.”

Mandy breathed hard, her face bright red. “Now you listen to me, you cowardly bast-”

“I’m sorry, Mandy,” Truly interrupted, “but Jack must get to the portal room, now. We’re out of time. They have to leave, right now.”

Jack got to his feet, his eyes averted from Mandy’s.

“We’re not done, Jack!” she called out to his retreating back. “When you get back, I want those damned drives!” When he was gone, she sat back down and wept bitterly.

*****

Drifter’s home, Arizona

The sunset was a glorious blaze of deep reds and purples. There was only a slight breeze, but the air already had a chill to it. Jack and Ron had appeared at what seemed to be an abandoned airbase. Carcasses of aircraft in various states of disrepair adorned either side of a weed-infested and potholed runway. A mangy Jack Russell terrier regarded them with mild disinterest from the top of a faded Cessna close by. The right undercarriage was collapsed, and the right wingtip touched the tarmac. The dog’s indifference gave Jack the distinct impression that people suddenly appearing out of nowhere happened so often here it was positively boring. The rusted hoop of an old windsock clanged against the weathered post it still hung from; the fabric of the sock itself rotted and gone long ago. Jack pulled the collar up on his jacket and hefted the large rucksack that had materialized beside him.

“What a dump,” Ron declared. He lifted his own rucksack and they headed for the only light in the growing darkness. It glowed in the window of an old hangar twenty yards away.

“You boys must be Jack and Ron.” The voice came from a nearby wingless fuselage of a DC-3. A man who looked to be in his sixties came out of the shadows of the rotting Douglas, a semi-auto shotgun held steady on them.

“That’s us,” Jack replied. “How you know our names, then?”

“A lady-friend with a strange name told me; you know her?”

“Truly,” Ron replied, and the shotgun was lowered until it pointed at the ground.

The stranger took the weapon in his left hand and offered them his right. “Dunstan Hall’s the name, but you can call me Drifter; all my friends do. Come and meet the boys, and then I’ll show you my birds.”

Drifter led them into the old hangar adjacent to the runway. The exterior may have been dilapidated, but the interior was pristine. A small group of elderly men stood in the little reception area. To the right of them, photos of military helicopters hung behind a polished walnut counter top. Underneath the photos hung a large yellow shield. It had a black diagonal stripe and a black horse’s head in the top right. Below it, the motto ‘First Team’ was spelled out in big polished brass letters. The countertop was adorned with meticulously detailed models of helicopters. Jack had a gnawing suspicion he might know what they were doing here. Drifter introduced them to Magnus ‘Karl’ Marx, Graham ‘Bear’ Fullerton, and Robert ‘Bobby’ Markham.

Jack paused as he shook Robert’s hand. “Markham, huh? Any relation to David Markham?”

“He’s my boy,” Robert said, with more than a hint of pride.

“I’m sorry about David,” Jack told him.

“Not a problem,” Robert assured him. “We’re gonna get him out. Simple as that.”

Yep, Jack thought, I figured as much. Truly, what have you gone and set up this time?

Drifter introduced them to two more men, also in their sixties. “This here’s Mitchell Jackson; we just call him Mitch. His co-pilot/gunner is Timothy Cardwell, or Tiny, as in Tiny Tim. ‘Cept he ain’t, of course.”

Drifter wasn’t lying; Cardwell had to be very close to 6’4”, by Jack’s estimate. That meant Tiny must have just scraped into the air force, as Jack knew the maximum height for the USAF was exactly that.

“Come and see my birds,” Drifter invited. He led them into the hangar proper. Drifter’s ‘Birds’ consisted of six helicopters, in various states of repair. Four of them were half-built, but closest to the big doors of the old building were two choppers in perfect condition. The closest was a Bell UH-1H Iroquois, the venerable ‘Huey’, that had served the US military, and many other armed forces around the world, for decades. The second one Jack had seen once or twice, but only from a distance.