Ocean in the Sea Read online

  “Would you like a refresher?” asked the stewardess.

  Coming back from her reverie, Jenny nodded and drained her glass, handing it over. “Thank you. Just water this time.”

  Ringing sounded from the briefcase in the seat next to her. Flipping the lid, she removed the satellite phone with quick precision. They wouldn’t have called unless they needed her, and while it felt good to be needed, it also meant she might be putting her life on the line again. “Hello?”

  Randuu answered in Paradisian. “Jenny.”

  Dropping her voice, she switched to their tongue. She’d been forced to pick it up over the last hundred and some odd years. “Tell me you’ve got him.”

  “No, we think he’s here, but we haven’t located him. We do have a lead, though, which is why I’m calling. We need you to go to New Mexico. Arsus is sending your pilot instructions now.”

  “Alright. What am I doing?”

  “Tanandor sent a messenger ahead of him. His name’s Lewis Herman, and he’s about as screwed up as you were when we first found you. He’s baseline human, from a world similar to yours. We’re hoping you can convince him to help us.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened. She put her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping into the phone. A human jumper! She’d always hoped someone like herself might cross their path. Hoped and hoped not. On one hand, she wouldn’t be alone anymore. On the other, this was yet another poor soul thrown into the void. “I’ll try. What’s his interface?”

  “A good question and one I can’t legitimately answer. He’s been using it extensively, but the effects are difficult to understand. I’ll tell Beloris to ask. Maybe Lewis will be willing to tell him, but I doubt it.”

  “Beloris is with him?”

  “Yes. He’s there now. Senjiita was too, but the messenger force-jumped him.”

  “He killed Senjiita!?”

  “He killed Senjiita’s host,” corrected Randuu. “Senjiita is probably already back. Let’s just hope he isn’t in Germany or Russia. It’s a pain in the ass getting people out of there. How are you with parachutes?”

  Jenny swallowed. “A night jump?”

  “There are two ways down to them. Given that you aren’t Beloris, I recommend the parachute. The operations officer will hook you up and tell you when you’re over the target. You’ll be landing near Perillia’s junk yard. It’s where she ports crap. Expect the landscape to be jagged and try not to land directly in it or you might get snagged. There’s an Army patrol on their way. They can give you a lift back. The Lieutenant in charge of the patrol is named Cleary.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Jenny looked up at the operations officer in his tight flight uniform. He handed her a box. “I was instructed you might need this.” She opened the lid and looked at the weapon inside. “Shit.”

  “Take no chances,” Randuu said in her ear. “We need what Lewis Herman knows.”

  Full of C.R.A.P.

  “Help me out of pit?” shouted Beloris.

  Lewis’s gut reaction was to leave Beloris where he was harmless, but he’d already attributed his paranoia to the LythoCAP. Anything his gut told him probably came straight from Garibaldi. He could only trust logic, and logic stated that the indestructible man might be hiding his anger and harboring more than a little resentment. After all, Lewis had just blown his friend’s brains out. “You’ve already expressed anger at my murder of Senjiita. Why shouldn't you want revenge?”

  “Bah. Senjiita can be ass, but you have not killed him, only host.”

  "How long does it take to jump?”

  Did it require concentration? Was there any control involved? Could he target a probability where Brenda still lived? But Lewis didn’t ask these questions, not yet. Revealing too much ignorance all at once could be a threat in itself... or could it?

  “Does not matter,” Beloris yelled from the bottom. “If jump-clock is up, death only forces respawn. Senjiita will be back, and will return to this simulation. New body, same asshole. Probably plenty pissed at you, but for me, no revenge is necessary.”

  “Why do you call him an asshole?”

  “Is long story. You let me up, I tell you, da?”

  Logically, Lewis was satisfied. Emotionally, his instincts screamed to stay away from Beloris, but he forced himself to ignore them and consider how he might even accomplish the request. It was a hundred foot drop. Rope would probably do the trick. What were the odds he’d find some in the fire truck? Pushing the odds to one, he searched around the lower panels and found a long line of orange tow-rope. Tying it to the truck, he threw the end down to Beloris and waited as the big man pulled himself up. After a lot of grunting, he crawled over the edge and lay on his back panting.

  “So you’re not superman,” observed Lewis.

  “I am as strong as host body allows,” huffed the heavy Russian. “My interface only protect host from damage. What is your interface, Lewis Herman? Randuu does not understand it. Weather control? Does not seem likely.”

  Again, Lewis felt it prudent to lie, but logically, this was an exercise in trust. Trust was a game of give and take. Once trust was broken, it could be difficult to re-establish. Besides, Lewis hated lying. The very fact that he felt the need to lie told him it came from Garibaldi. “I alter chance. Valon called it probability manipulation.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Beloris sat up. “No shit? Is Tanandor’s favorite interface. He never gifts this one. You are sure this is what he give you?”

  Turning his head to the fire truck, Lewis pointed at the partially raised ladder hanging off the end. “What are the odds that ladder will collapse right now?” He pushed the odds to one and watched the ladder teeter, wobble, and crash to the dirt. “The odds were one.”

  “Ezs uust Amar!”

  “What language is that?”

  “Is Paradisian.”

  “Para-what?”

  “In simulation we come from, well... most of us... world is called Mkettos. In English this means Paradise. So... Paradisian.”

  “Your entire world spoke the same language?” That seemed doubtful. Was their trust broken so soon? No, wait, better to assume that Beloris was telling the truth, in which case a single language might indicate colonization and a single origin culture.

  “Yes.” Beloris chuckled. “Paradise very different from most worlds.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Lewis, this interface you have, you know its limits?”

  “Some. What about your interface? What are its limits?”

  Beloris huffed and cracked his neck. “My interface boring compared to yours. Is similar to Shanzea’s. You remember Shanzea? Naval officer you meet next to library.”

  “Shanzea,” repeated Lewis. “That is her Paradisian name?”

  “Da.” Beloris nodded. “I understand confusion. We prefer real labels. My host is Vadim Gorelov.” He held out his hand. “Glad to meet you, Michael Garibaldi.” Lewis shook the hand warily, frowning at his host’s name. Beloris nodded. “See? Lewis Herman is better, yes? Host is only host.

  “Just Lewis is fine. Shanzea could stop things.” Lewis remembered how she’d frozen Bob the clown, dropping him like a rock. “She said she'd locked coordinates out of phase with the system’s clock-rate.”

  Beloris nodded sagely. “Details. Mine is same, but limited to host body. When damage is coming, whatever part of me would be hurt goes out of phase with system clock. Shanzea calls this bricking. If something big will hurt me, I turn into statue-man. Not highly versatile. Not like yours.”

  “We all have different access points into the system?”

  “Nyet. Some people have same interface. For example, Jenny is like Randuu, but younger. Not as good as Randuu, but she is learning. Hard interface to use Too many parameters, I think.”

  The sat-phone next to Beloris rang. He picked it up and rattled off something Lewis couldn’t understand in Paradisian. It made him nervous. They were talking about him, how to capture him, what type of threat he posed and how they could over
come his ability to manipulate chance. He should push the odds of the ground under Beloris collapsing and drop him back into the pit, then get the Hell out of here. He had enough intel. Waiting for this Jenny bitch to show up was stupid. She must know how to take him out. Don’t fucking wait. Do it now. KILL HIM.

  Lewis suddenly threw his head back and pinched his eyes shut, wrestling with the sensations. Garibaldi was like an animal clawing at his insides. If he couldn’t keep control, the animal would escape. Even now, Lewis wanted to obey. It was an unscratchable itch, a visceral need, and it was most definitely not him.

  “You okay?” asked Beloris. He set the phone down.

  “No.” The distant sound of a jet engine scraping across the sky echoed over the desert landscape. “I am definitely not okay.”

  “Is LythoCAP. I knew man once, American friend. We escape from prison together. He was captured soldier. I was captured rebel.” The big Russian’s face winced at the memory. “He had C.R.A.P. Always wanting Saiben-D, always craving. But that was not worst. He could not trust himself. Had to be on guard. Several times he went feral and try to kill us. We restrain him until it passed, but for you is different. You actually take LythoCAP.” He shook his head. “Good for both of us I find you. He looked up toward the sound from the sky. “Jenny here soon with antidote.”

  Lewis felt his skin crawl. “Antidote?”

  “Yes. Antidote neutralize LythoCAP.”

  No! He couldn’t allow that. He’d go to sleep! “I can’t take it.”

  Beloris stared and raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  “Because... because it’s keeping me awake,” sputtered Lewis. “Sleep means dreaming. If I dream... I can’t dream. I can’t ever sleep again. I’ll be back… there.” He covered his face. “I can’t see it. I won’t!”

  “See what?”

  “I'm not talking about it. I'm not thinking about it.” He climbed to his feet. Beloris had to die. “Don’t make me kill you,” he snarled, backing away as the big Russian stood.

  “Relax.” Beloris held out his hands. “Is okay. Forget about antidote. You don’t have to take.”

  “No. You’ll force me. Force me to remember.” Lewis fought for control, but he was losing. Like twin shadows, the need to avoid living through Brenda’s death and the desires of Garibaldi to kill hammered at his rationality and beat down the doors of his mind where psychosis raged. Cold clinical calculation wasn’t an option. Not when they both wanted the same thing. It gave Garibaldi a foothold and now the beast was winning. Swallowing hard, Lewis narrowed his eyes and curled his upper lip. “You need to get out of here,” he growled at Beloris. “Or I do.”

  “Think of memories,” Beloris advised calmly. “Who is Lewis? Find a memory and hold it. Memories part of Attistar, not host. Find good memory, Lewis.”

  “No. It’s not memories… it’s… motive.”

  “Bullshit. You’re not trying. TRY!” he roared. “When has Lewis been happy?”

  A mental guitar string snapped, vibrating soundlessly through Lewis' brain, and Michael Garibaldi narrowed his eyes. The beast was out. “Magic tricks," he said between a gag and a gasp. His voice steadied and grew stronger. "I’ve got a rocket in my pocket, you alien fuck.” He raised his left hand and pointed at the Russian’s chest. “What are the odds your heart’ll stop beating, Beloris? What are the odds it will kill you?”

  “Is LythoCAP talking.”

  “Your power won’t save you from a heart attack, will it?” Lewis felt Garibaldi’s lips curl back in a dark smile. He wasn’t controlling the flesh, only the mind. The conjunction of motive pulled them together. Like jagged pieces of a puzzle their desires meshed, cramming thoughts into place where they didn’t belong. Lewis/Michael wondered if he’d ever be the same. Part of him didn’t care. Part of him did. But most importantly, no part of him wanted anything to do with Valon Kang’s dreams. “I’m thinking your magic won’t keep your body from harming itself.” He pushed, regretting it instantly, but not caring about that either. “Let’s experiment.”

  Beloris grabbed his chest and raised his eyebrows. Straightening his back, he shook his head and grunted. “Nothing. Lewis... you really try to kill me?”

  “Lewis?” He dropped his arm. “Yeah. So why aren't you dead?"

  “Interfaces not always work directly on other jumpers.”

  “Good to know.” Lewis backed further away, focusing on the ground.

  Beloris moved forward, trying to appear unthreatening with his palms out to either side. “I do not wish to harm you, Lewis, but you might hurt Jenny. I can’t allow that.”

  With a push of probability, the lip of the pit collapsed taking Beloris with it. Scooping up the white phosphorous grenade, Lewis pulled the pin. The familiar ‘ching’ of the spoon’s released was beautiful music. He watched the strip of metal fall before tossing the cylinder into the pit. Turning smugly, he found the rifle where he’d set it down and checked the slide’s action. Satisfied, he walked off while in the background the pit lit with the dull wump of the grenade’s explosion. The area was temporarily illuminated in a blinding white chemical flash. He half expected Beloris to scream, but all he heard was the sound of air sucking into the superheated molten hole. Statueman, Beloris had said. That would do well enough to keep the bastard out of his business. Was it right to betray Beloris? It didn’t matter anymore, and it wasn’t betrayal. How could you betray an alien invader from another dimension? There were more of them out there too. This batch was the vanguard of an invading army!

  He took a bottle of LythoCAP out of his pants and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. He had everything he needed. Except a silencer – right. Without knowing what this Jenny chick could do, it was best to take her out at a distance. A silencer would keep her from locating him if she didn’t drop on the first shot. Not that he expected to miss, but he couldn’t discount an immunity to bullets or some other weird-ass defense. Fricking aliens! At least the dude in his head seemed normal enough. Kind of a liberal pansy-ass, but he was still human.

  “I’ve been possessed by a pussy.” Michael rolled his eyes. There’d be a sniper rifle over there in that truck, he decided. A nice one, with a kick-ass night scope and a… Oh fuck, what was he thinking! If he could have anything, he’d take a Mark-7 Drako with a backup battery and an SHT MK322 Aries series night scope. “It’s in there,” he grunted. “What are the fucking odds? I’ll tell you the fucking odds. They’re fucking one.” Engaging the magic trick, he curled his upper lip at the flush of energy. It felt dirty, like cheating, but he was gonna do it anyway.

  Reaching the truck, Garibaldi pulled his prize from under the seat and slung the assault rifle across his back. Cradling the Drako, he slid his hands across its seductively smooth black surface and shuddered inside. It was a thing of pure beauty, and the battery was fully charge. It needed no silencer. Its invisible microwave pulses were perfectly silent.

  “Mrow?”

  “Hey, cat. You’re just in time.” He lowered the barrel and sighted. The pansy inside squirmed, but the weapon needed testing. Michael thought of the dream, remembering the pansy’s wife and kid and the train. At the threat of remembering further, the squirming ceased. He lashed out with his foot. His boot hit the cat square-on, and as it ran off, he shoved the stock into his shoulder, watching the tracking recital pick up the motion. Quality shit, the MK322 Aries. A squeeze of the trigger sent the little furball to Hell in a blaze of glory.

  Deep inside, Lewis Herman screamed.

  Battle of the Brainz

  On the way to the ground, Jenny activated her interface and viewed the approaching landscape in the electromagnetic spectrum. Narrowing her view to infrared light, she caught a glimpse of intense radiation pouring from a ground-based source some five hundred meters toward her destination.

  Better pay attention to landing, she reminded herself. She’d only done this a few times before, and she’d been in a male body then – one genetically engineered for increased bone density and
musculature. In comparison, Veronica Vailen was a porcelain doll. Pulling down hard on the handles, she brought up the lip of the parawing and aimed for a clear patch, trying to avoid the cacti. Hitting the ground, she leaned back and dug her heels in as the wind caught the chute pulling her toward a huge barrel cactus. Her heart rate spiked, thinking of all those needles. Snapping the releases, she let the chute go. Billowing forward, it snagged on the cactus where it stayed, fluttering in the breeze like a big black flag. Not exactly a tactical landing, but it was better than a face-plant into a cactus.

  Focusing on the open radio connection with the sat-phone in her pack, she engaged her interface and beamed a message in Paradisian to Randuu. “I’m down half a click from the target. There’s something burning ahead. Are you still in contact with Beloris?”

  “No. His phone’s signal winked out a few seconds ago, but I’ve got a spy satellite in your area. I can see the fire. It’s coming from a hole in the ground. Same as Beloris’s last coordinates. Be careful, Jenny. There’s something wrong. Lewis may have gone psycho.”

  “Lovely,” she thought sarcastically into the radio link. “A new jumper in a C.R.A.P. host with the ability to manipulate probability has gone ape-shit crazy, and you send me to talk him down.” Could it get any worse? Yes, she realized. “And I suppose the area is filled with weapons Perillia has dumped during her race war?”

  “Undoubtedly.” The radio crackled in Jenny’s head. “Shanzea reported in from the hospital. They’ve got Valruun on life support. Lewis Herman blew a hole through his mid-section with a large caliber pistol. Don’t expect Lewis to hesitate if he’s gone insane. He’s already taken out two of us.”