Ocean in the Sea Page 23

  “Who was doing this to you?” asked Beloris.

  “A man. The owner of the company I was working for. But now it’s my turn to ask a question, DA? If you’re immune to bullets, Beloris, then what can Senjiita do?”

  Beloris’s shoulders sagged. “Ah. Hm. Better that Senjiita tell you this. It is a dark thing. Not so good I speak of such secrets.”

  “I’ll say it,” shouted Senjiita. “In the interest of being honest. I have the ability to terminate the life-connectivity of any corporeal entity in the system and send them back to data storage. You’d probably refer to that state as death.”

  “You see,” rumbled Beloris. “Is very dark interface.”

  “You can kill people?” shouted Lewis.

  “Yes.”

  “Anyone?”

  “Correct.”

  “Then why haven’t you killed me?”

  “I have found,” yelled Senjiita, “that it is difficult to get information out of dead people. I’m sure there is an interface for that, but I do not have it.”

  “So what is it I have that you want?”

  “Ah,” muttered Beloris. “Now we get to crux of matter, yes? The man we seek is same man who did this to you, Lewis. We want information about this man. And also, we may offer that you join us. You have as much a reason to find him.”

  “What reason is that?”

  Beloris laughed. “Why, to get out of course!”

  “Get out of what?”

  “The ring,” called Senjiita. “To go higher, until there is no other place to go. To discover what this was created for. To meet our jailors and face them. To know who we are.”

  “Jailors?” Lewis clung to the word. “This is a prison?”

  “Da.” Beloris nodded. “A prison for some. Also experiment, but we do not know what is intended to discover. Many things, the ring is, but only Tanandor knows all of it. That is who did this to you.”

  “Tanandor,” muttered Lewis. It had to be Valon.

  “Can we be friends now?” shouted Senjiita, “or are you still going to try and SHOOT me if I come out?”

  Lewis pinched his lips. Trust wasn’t going to happen. Not here, not now, maybe not ever. Valon had called these idiots his disciples, probably some form of a cult he’d created to control them. Lewis wondered what they actually believed, but expected they’d lie if asked. Their efforts to befriend him grated on his nerves, and the innate instinct to waste them seemed both wise and prudent. Senjiita could kill him with a thought. Beloris couldn’t be killed at all. Together they were the perfect pair of assassins, but who had sent them? He decided to stick with his first plan and get some intel. “Sure,” he called back. “Go ahead and come out, Senjiita, but Beloris stays where he is.”

  What where the odds, Lewis asked himself, that a hundred foot sink hole might open up right under Beloris?

  As Senjiita stepped from around the side of the black and white SUV, Lewis centered his aim and pulled the trigger, then pushed. Feeling the crack of recoil against his shoulder, he watched the top of Senjiita’s head vanish in a haze of red mist and bone. Simultaneously, the ground began to shake. The big Russian’s eyes widened. He must have felt the earth dropping beneath him because he tried to leap. He dropped in a blur, vanishing in a cloud of dirk and sand.

  Lewis grabbed the wreckage of the crane to steady himself. When the shaking subsided, he waited for the plume of dust to settle before returning to the armored personnel carrier. Once he found the grenades he’d pushed for, he moved to the edge of the hole. Wary of falling in, he kept his distance. It was dark in the pit, but he heard coughing from below.

  “You immune to fire Beloris?” he shouted down.

  “Lewis? What are you doing?”

  “Just asking some friendly questions. By the way, can I expect any more of Tanandor’s disciples to show up?”

  “You know of Tanandor then?”

  “I know of Valon Kang, but I’m pretty sure they’re the same person. He told me you dolts were his disciples once. I take it your religion has failed you?”

  “Tanandor was not God to us, Lewis. Not for worship. It was different. We followed him because he woke us to the ring. He showed you too. We are like brothers.”

  “No. I’m a loyal American soldier, and you’re an alien invader. How long have you fuckers been manipulating human history?”

  “Etr en koroz azka…” Beloris muttered. “You are most certainly confused. THINK! Use your mind. Senjiita! Talk to him!”

  “Senjiita’s dead,” hollered Lewis. “You’re next, unless you’re immune to white phosphorous. Ever seen someone burned ali…” Lewis felt his voice catch, and a vision of Jacky Jacobson flashed before him. He stared at the grenade in his hand and began hyperventilating. His breath came in short bursts as his diaphragm reacted. Spikes of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Hyper-aggression. LythoCAP did more than keep him awake and pain-free. He thought of the C.R.A.P facility. Moaning, he dropped the grenade. “No….”

  “AHH!” Beloris roared, punching at the stone wall at the bottom of the pit. “We needed Senjiita! Stupid novice fledgling jumper. You know what you have done?”

  “What?” Rasped Lewis. His voice was too quiet. He raised it louder. “What have I done?”

  “Senjiita detects life. We need him to find Tanandor. And you are not ‘loyal American soldier.’ You are tool unleashed upon us as Tanandor unleashed us upon our jailors. You are distraction, Lewis, sent to stop us. Mmm… I see this now. Is how Tanandor works.”

  Maybe, thought Lewis. He sat down by the side of the pit. Maybe these two were telling the truth. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe the LythoCAP was screwing with his head and maybe it was Michael Garibaldi. “I don’t know,” he called down to Beloris. “I can’t tell what’s real. How can I tell? This could all be a dream. I could still be in the chair.”

  “What chair?”

  “It’s how Valon – Tanandor – gave me the interface. The chair is connected to a scanner system. It lets him enter data into my mind. He told me I had a message to carry, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. When I sleep, I’m back in the chair, learning. So how do I know Valon isn’t injecting all of this into my mind right now?”

  “Hmph. Now I better understand. Yes. Tanandor has done this before. You must meet Jenny. She would know what to do.”

  “Who is Jenny?”

  “She is messenger, like you. Valon did same to her, but long ago. Many jumps. Get me sat-phone. Should be on Senjiita. I will call Arsus. Get him to send Jenny here if you promise not to kill her. Da?”

  Someone like him? Lewis shook his head. No, it was more lies. He should kill Beloris now and end this. Find Valon and kill him too. Kill everyone.

  He clenched his fist and remembered Jacky burning alive. The urge to kill didn’t subside, but the logic of it did. Killing Beloris made no sense. The LythoCAP was talking, and Michael Garibaldi was listening. The drug made Garibaldi stronger – woke him up. It was too late to do anything about it, but he could track it. Yes, that’s where autism gave him an advantage. If he paid attention to what he was thinking, he might be able to get through this. He thought of the nail gun and remembered the sensation Valon had been trying to teach him. If he could evoke that sensation, then he could use the beacons already in place to map Garibaldi’s memories.

  Maybe this Jenny chick could help with that. She’d know how to evoke it. It was logical, and something he might do. These were his own thoughts. Satisfied, he found Senjiita’s body and searched it for the phone, doing his best to avoid looking at the body’s head.

  Standing by the edge of the pit, he removed a chemical light from his belt and broke it, throwing it down into the darkness. Beloris appeared at the bottom, partially lit by the green glow. “I promise I’ll do my best to keep control,” Lewis told him. “You’re right. My host is… difficult. I wasn’t ready, and I took some… drugs. I shouldn’t have, but I needed to.”

  Beloris clapped his hands and held them out, catchi
ng the large phone. “What drugs?” he asked.

  “LythoCAP.”

  Beloris nodded and began dialing. “You are one stupid fuck, Lewis Herman.” He raised the phone to his ear. “LythoCAP is same as Saiben-D. No difference but label. Several men I have known to lose their minds to this drug. But we will help. You will be fine once you jump.”

  “I don’t know how to jump.”

  “We help with that too. Hello, Randuu. Is Beloris. Senjiita is… uh… force-jumped. I need Arsus to get Jenny here. Lewis Herman needs help. I have no idea. Somewhere in New Mexico where Perillia dump her junk. Tell Jenny to trace phone GPS.”

  Jennifer Kross

  Veronica Vailen was raised in the beautiful ocean-side city of La Jolla, California. Her father was a wealthy and well known cardiac surgeon, and her mother was a partner in a successful real-estate business before becoming a full-time stay-at-home mother. The family of four lived in a secure well designed home in a gated all-white community with a large private school system that afforded the neighborhood children the best education money could buy. At the age of sixteen, Ronnie’s parents bought her a new car – a Jeep Intrepid – one of GMC’s most expensive models. And, acquiescing to her wishes, her parents ordered the vehicle in her favorite color – hot pink.

  Ronnie was a popular girl before the Jeep, but armed with a license and transportation that few of her peers (let alone most adults) could even dream of owning, Ronnie’s popularity soared. Her friends adored her, and on warm weekend nights when her parents held their dinner parties, Ronnie collected a chosen few to load their surf boards and head for the nearby ocean. There were few things Ronnie loved more than catching waves. In that regard, at least, she was a typical beach-born La Jolla native.

  On Saturday night June 14th, 2021, Ronnie and four friends took the interstate North toward Encinitas. While somewhat familiar with the area, Ronnie had never surfed there, and she was excited to try the new board her Aunt had given her. Traffic was good that night, and she was forced to keep up with the cars in front of her else suffer the razzing of her friends. Thus, with her beginner driving skills taxed to the limit, the tiny amount of time given for her to react was insufficient, and spent largely in abject terror. Skidding to avoid a semi, the pink Jeep rolled seven times. It was then hit by a Chevy Titan truck and pancaked against a retaining wall.

  Her parents received the call at 11:20, and made immediately for the hospital. On arrival, they were met by the police, along with the parents of the three girls and the one boy who had been Ronnie’s passengers. Mr. Vailen used what influence he had to meet with the ER surgeon who had stabilized his daughter.

  Dr. Krayvin was young, in his early thirties, and pale as a sheet when he reached the nurses desk where Ronnie’s father waited. “I’m sorry,” he stated. “I can’t stay long. There are four other patients I’m attending right now.”

  “Just tell me how she is.” Steve Vailen grabbed his shoulders. “How bad is it?”

  Dr. Krayvin blinked. Doctors did not make the worst patients. The children of doctors were exponentially worse because of their parents. “She’s suffered lacerations to her liver, and she’s hemorrhaging. Doctor Eignholn has her in the OR. Other than that…” He rubbed his temples, “she’s going to lose her right arm, and the sight in her right eye, assuming they can save it. She’ll probably need some plastic surgery.”

  Steve Vailen dropped his arms. “Dear God. What are her chances?”

  “Oh, they’re Good. She’s lost a lot of blood, but if we can get the liver patched, I expect we can stabilize her soon. I need to go, but I’m going to ask you to stay in the waiting room. It’s hospital policy. You know the rules.”

  “Yes.”

  “Someone will come out to talk with you when we know more. I’ll make a note on her chart. We’ll treat her with special care, Dr. Vailen.” He patted Steve on the arm. “I’m a big fan of your work, by the way.”

  “Thanks…”

  An hour later, a nurse took Steve and his wife aside, where an overweight balding surgeon informed them of the unthinkable. “It was the anesthesia,” Doctor Eignholn stated. “I’m sorry. There was no record she was allergic. The reaction was unexpected. One second she was fine, and the next.” He shook his head. “Full cardiac arrest.”

  Mrs. Vailen dropped to her knees and screamed. Steve’s reaction was far worse. After belting Dr. Eignholn and chasing him down the hall, security managed to forcibly restrain him. They were not allowed to see the body until the next day. They spent the night in a hotel calling relatives and friends and praying that it was all a mistake. They refused to believe the truth. They couldn’t accept it. They were in full denial.

  In most cases, none of that would have made a difference, but in this case, it did, and in a surprising turn of events, they were called back to the hospital at 2:21 in the morning. A miracle had occurred. Veronica Vailen was still alive.

  In the weeks following the accident, however, it became clear that Ronnie was not the same. One would expect losing an arm and an eye might change a person, but the neurologists and psychologists could find no reason for the odd changes in her behavior. She no longer liked the same foods. She was no longer interested in her friends, and seldom spoke to them when they came to visit. She ignored her younger brother and expressed no interest in speaking with her parents. Instead, she seemed obsessed with news, particularly current events.

  “She’s been making phone calls,” the nurse told her parents. “I have no idea who she’s talking to, and I don’t recognize the language she’s using. She hangs up whenever someone comes in, but I’ve caught her several times. Whenever I ask who she’s talking to, she tells me it’s a Spanish tutor.”

  “She doesn’t have a tutor,” Steve told the nurse. “And she doesn’t know Spanish.”

  “It’s not Spanish,” said the nurse. “I speak Spanish.”

  “Can you get me the phone records?”

  “No, Dr. Vailen. I’m sorry, but hospital policy prohibits releasing that information.”

  “I’d like to speak with the Administrator then.”

  “Yes Sir. I’ll let his secretary know.”

  “Don’t bother, I’ll arrange it myself.”

  Eventually, Steve obtained a list of numbers, but Ronnie was long gone by then. She vanished from the hospital without a trace. The subsequent police investigation discovered the numbers connected to a suicide hotline, a furniture store, a pet shop, and several plumbing supply outlets. None of them produced any leads, and Ronnie was never found. But in another part of the country, her new life began under the name of Jennifer Kross. Ironically, it was her real name. Just not on this world.

  As far as host bodies went, Veronica Vailen wasn’t the worst Jenny had put up with. She was young and female, which suited her in comparison to being old, male, or alien. Missing an arm and an eye were irritations she could live with. Randuu and Arsus helped her obtain a decent prosthetic using this world’s best technology. There was nothing they could do about the eye. Neural regeneration hadn’t been invented yet, and synthetic optics weren’t even close, but the glass eye was high quality, and difficult to notice, and the plastic surgery ensured she’d never be recognized by Veronica’s parents or anyone that had known her.

  She wasn’t too keen on her job, though. Politics bored her to tears, but she understood the necessity. There weren’t any other jumpers in this simulation besides their group, and political control was a form of long-term manipulation that the system tolerated, so long as they didn’t alter the story too much. At the ripe age of 22, the role of Executive Assistant to the Governor of Texas became hers. The new Governor was more than happy to appoint her. In return, Randuu ensured his election by virtue of some electronic shenanigans, a smattering of voter fraud, and a nasty little smear campaign against his Democratic rival. While Jenny didn’t care for the work, she played the role she was given and tried not to complain, although, to her, Texas was an ugly place.

  Home
to America’s foreign internment camps, Texas was a nasty reminder of how grotesquely twisted simulations could become. On her origin world, the camps would never have been permitted, let alone condoned by the majority of the population. But then her world had never seen the rise of the Nazis, or suffered a second world war.

  In preparation for what Arsus called “Operation Tonko” every jumper in the simulation had been given instructions for when the arrival of Tanandor grew near. Jenny’s were simple. She was to board the TS-32 Stratoraptor stationed Bergstrom Air Force base in Austin. The pilot was to follow a flight plan circling most of North America. From here, Jenny would wait for further instructions.

  From the smoky interior of the Stratoraptor’s executive cabin, Jenny stared absently out the window. Nursing a single malt scotch in her good left hand, she thought about the last hundred years. Had it been that long? It was probably close. The time spent in any given simulation varied. Sometimes they jumped right away. Other times they stayed and set up shop, waiting for others to arrive. Valruun ensured they remained together, targeting the system’s jump conduits when they departed. The duration between jumps often depended on the excitable gamesman and the host he’d been dumped into. It was funny how each of the Paradisians obsessed over something. For Valruun, it was almost always a game of some kind. Jenny liked him, but then he was easy to like. That was not always true of the others.

  Senjiita terrified her. Shanzea still treated her like an outsider. Perillia was usually so distant and concerned with the culture of the current simulation, she was never around long enough for Jenny to get a good feel for her personality. Randuu was often physically absent, linking herself to whatever machinery existed. Arsus concerned himself with power. Xanatos got fat. Evaeros was never round. Heticus was an arrogant prick. Out of them all, she liked Valruun the best. He took her to baseball games whenever he was in Austin, giving her the rundown on each player and their abilities with impeccable accuracy and amazing insight. She suspected Valruun would have been a far better tactician than Arsus, if he cared anything for politics, which he did not. They shared that as well. She wondered how he was doing. He was supposed to maintain position in D.C. near Arsus and Randuu. They needed him. Valruun was integral to the trap. With his interface bending the conduits back on themselves, any jump would re-route to another host in this simulation, trapping Tanandor and giving them time to find him.