Ocean in the Sea Page 25

  Jenny switched her interface rapidly, scanning in ultraviolet and xray, then moving on to gamma radiation. It wasn’t much help, but as she was rotating between infrared and radio range, she caught a flash of something moving over the landscape and paused. Rolling back along the spectrum, she caught it again, a beam of energy playing out over the desert like a searchlight. “I’m seeing a radar beam,” she told Randuu. “It’s unsteady and jumpy.”

  “Probably handheld,” replied Randuu. “Keep an eye on it and try to get close. Stay low to the ground. If the beam gets near, then freeze. You’ve got ground concealment. If you’re not moving, it won’t pick you up.”

  Crouching low, Jenny watched the energy flickering against the terrain. When it moved away, she shuffled closer. When it came back, she stopped and waited. “How’d he get a hand-held radar?” she asked.

  “It’s a feature in some of the third generation U.S. military armaments. Part of a weapon’s tracking systems.”

  “What kind of weapon, Randuu?”

  “Hard to say. Could be a gyrojet or a pulse maser.”

  “A little more information?” Jenny requested dryly.

  “The gyrojet fires small rockets. Usually heat seeking. In that case, you can alter you’re your infrared signature. A maser is a microwave laser. There’s not much you can do against it except bend the transmission away from your body, but you’re not very good at that, so I recommend avoiding it.”

  “No shit.” She remembered Randuu trying to teach her how to bend coherent light in a technologically advanced simulation. The problem was the speed. Even when she knew it was coming ahead of time, it was difficult to get her mind around the parameters of her interface quickly enough to make any difference. “It had to be pulses didn’t it. I hate pulses.”

  At 200 meters when the beam moved in her direction again. She dropped and stayed still. “I’m going to need help.”

  “Agreed. You need a distraction. I’ve told Arsus to have Lieutenant Cleary deploy his drones. I’ll feed their transmission back to you if you think you can handle it.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  Randuu emitted a grumble reminiscent of a school teacher chastising the poor performance of a star pupil. “Jenny, your inability to process digital signaling is becoming a serious detriment.”

  Jenny dropped her eyelids in disgust. Randuu – always playing Mommy. “Let’s talk about it when someone isn’t trying to shoot me.” She spotted the source of the radar beam. “There he is. On top of a fire truck behind a broken ladder. Where the Hell is Beloris?”

  “I just got the satellite replay data. Beloris fell into that pit and Lewis threw a thermal grenade in after him. Don’t expect any help from Beloris. That stuff will keep burning until there’s no oxygen left and he’s going to be covered with it.”

  “How soon before your drones get here?”

  “Probably five minutes. Stay where you are for now and don’t move.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Sweeping the desert, Garibaldi found the lack of motion disturbing, and he was getting tired of waiting for a target. Patience wasn’t one of his better virtues, and the gutless twat in his head wasn’t helping. Something about torching that damned cat had set the little worm to struggling, and it was giving him a headache. He could hear the voice in his head begging over and over. “Kitty-Kitty, NO! Don’t kill Kitty-Kitty!” What the fuck? The cat was already fricken dead. It made no sense. The dumbass must be retarded or something.

  “Shut up,” he hissed. Realizing he’d spoken out loud, Garibaldi bit his lip, angry at himself for breaking a cardinal rule of sniping. “Shut up,” he thought viciously. “Shut up, Shut up, Shut up.” The image of a cat he didn’t recognize appeared in his mind’s eye, as if he were imagining it, but it wasn’t imagination, it was a memory, one that didn’t belong to him. A tiger-striped tabby purred under his hand as he stroked its fur. He felt a warm love for the creature, a sickly alien sensation of caring that made him want to puke.

  Mentally screaming at Lewis to get out of his head, Garibaldi lowered the Drako’s sites and pinched his eyes closed. He imagined his hands reaching out. He grabbed the cat’s neck and twisted, feeling its vertebrate pop and its esophagus cackle, but when he let go, the feline remained unharmed. It looked up at him and bleated. Love and trust beamed from its eyes, burning into his skull. A wave of nausea rippled through his body, and without realizing it, he opened his mouth and spewed acrid bile onto the dusty red metal roof of the fire truck.

  Abandoning his position, Garibaldi crawled backward and slipped off the side. With shaking hands, he held a roof rail and extended his legs, dropping to the sand. Bending over, he unleashed his guts in a torrent of vomit. Three more times, it hit him. When it was over he put his back against the vehicle.

  He’d murdered Kitty-Kitty. People had fed it, taken it to the vet, given it a collar, let it sleep on their beds, cuddled it and stroked it until its little motor was purring. They’d let it outside so it could hunt, and let it back in when it scratched on the door. They’d played games and given it toys and a place to sharpen its claws. And then he’d kicked it and burned it alive for target practice. What kind of uncaring scum would do that to a helpless domesticated animal? Worse than a beast, lacking any shred of humanity, such a monster had to die.

  “You fucking pussy,” he growled in his throat. “You think that’s the worst I’ve done? You think… NNg” Garibaldi clutched his stomach. “You think I give a shit about a house cat? Americans come first, you liberal pussy faggot. Without people like me, you’d be speaking German and polishing some kraut’s boot with your tongue.”

  In response, flash-fire memories skewed over Garibaldi’s vision and he stood before the trunk of a tree where a child had been tied with rope. In his hand he held a lighter. His heart pounded and he tasted the coppery tang of revenge in the back of his throat. Sparking the lighter, he threw it at the boy’s feet and watched him burst into flames. Horrified, he backed away as flames moved up Jacky’s body. It was a mistake. This was his friend, an American! This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  The boy’s face burned and his hair smoked and crackled. His tortured soul stared through wide terror-frozen eyes. Flames licked at them, head thrashing left to right, mouth open screaming wide. Garibaldi looked into those eyes and in an instant, he was inside them staring back at a monster. Staring back into the mirror of his mind. There he saw what he’d become in the name of his one loyal principle. The oath he’d swore to his country. The death of his humanity. The price of freedom.

  The other Garibaldi pointed at him. “Burn, bitch. HA! HA! And the best part? No one will know it was me. They’ll think it was Herman. HA!”

  Rage flooded through his limbic system, releasing adrenaline and dopamine enhanced by the LythoCAP. Flexing his arms, Garibaldi burst the ropes and rushed forward, leaping onto the laughing duplicate. Hitting the ground, the two Garibaldi’s rolled. A flaming elbow crushed a cheek bone. A knee slammed into a burning groin. Burned blackened fingers jabbed with knife-edged stiffness into a throat. Around them, the dry leaves ignited and the fire spread.

  Blinking and squinting, Lewis opened his eyes and felt the cold metal of the truck behind him. In his mind, he sensed the raging battle and clasped it, trapping it between the humiliation of his memories of the nail gun and Jacky’s torture. Taking a deep breath, he let it fade into nothingness, dropping it deep into the dark waters of his subconscious and damning it with a will to forget.

  But he could not forget. Like a demon from Hell, he could feel Garibaldi digging into the walls and climbing. Claws ripped at him, and he knew he’d already lost. Whatever he might be, whatever rationality Lewis Herman might claim, it was insufficient to contain the emotional passions of Michael Garibaldi. Logic could not defeat emotion. There was only one thing to do, and one rule left to violate.

  “What are the odds,” asked Lewis, “that I will retain control? What are the odds that I’ll lea
rn how to use Valon’s memory techniques on my own? The odds are one.” He pushed and felt the flush of energy pass over him. A second passed before he fell and dropped into a full-fledged seizure, pounding the ground with his fists and heels.

  When Jenny found him fifteen minutes later, Lewis lay on his back with foam and blood trickling out of his mouth.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Jenny kicked his foot.

  “Haven’t a clue.” Randuu’s voice crackled over the radio connection. “Whatever it is, let’s consider ourselves lucky. Hit him with the antidote before he wakes up.”

  Pulling the injector pistol from its holster, she knelt down next to him and pushed the cold metal cylinder against his arm. With a crack and a hiss, the vial drained of liquid and she stepped back to a more comfortable distance. “Now what?”

  “Remember how I taught you to examine a living electrical system? Give it a try now and see if you can pick up his brain waves or cardiac signals.”

  “Yes, mother.” Jenny ran through the spectrum and adjusted sensitivity, searching for neuro-electric signaling. “I can see it, but I don’t know what any of it means.”

  “It means his brain is working. How’s his heart?”

  “It’s beating.”

  “Good. Go over to the pit and see if you can help Beloris.”

  Beloris was frozen in place, his clothing completely burned away. The walls of the pit still smoked and glowed brightly on infrared. So did Beloris. He was as hot as a pistol. “We’ll have to pull him out and hose him off,” she told Randuu. “There’s bits of burning stuff stuck to him.”

  “Watch your back.”

  “Huh?” Jenny raised her head.

  “Lewis is getting up.”

  Jenny spun around to see Lewis Herman stagger around the side of the fire truck. Dirty and bedraggled, he blinked at her and clasped his head. “Majestic,” he rumbled in his deep voice. “What kinda butt-fuckery is this? Feels like I been beat with a shillelagh.” His eyes narrowed distrustfully at Jenny. “You responsible sweet-lips?”

  “Um... no. Are you Lewis Herman or…?”

  “Herman… Lewis Herman. Yeah, that’s my name. But… who the Hell am I?”

  “You’re a…” Jenny paused, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to set him off, but what might part of the truth could he accept? She was talking to a bomb. “Traveler,” she finished. “We’re all travelers, and your one of us. We’re friends. I’m here to help. I can answer your questions.”

  “I have questions?” he asked.

  “Don’t you?”

  “I’m tired. I need to sleep.” He groaned. A look of confusion crossed his face. “But I don’t want to sleep.” He shook his head. “Why? I’m so tired.”

  “Jenny,” interrupted Randuu. “There’s a lot of movement on the ground. It’s small, and it’s getting closer.”

  Sweeping her eyes across the desert Jenny searched the infrared spectrum and saw them. Dozens of coyotes and puma, hundreds of rabbits and snakes, and scorpions by the thousands. “Oh no…” She felt her skin crawl. “What are they doing?”

  “It’s got to be an interface,” Randuu announced over the radio connection. “Animal domination. There were a few Paradisians who had it, but what are the chances they’d be in this simulation? No… it’s Tanandor. Has to be him.”

  “My God.” Jenny turned to Lewis. “He’s here.”

  “Who?” muttered Lewis. “My dad? Naw… he’s in Michigan.”

  “Tanandor.”

  Lewis shook his head. “Valon?” His upper lip curled. “Now there’s someone I need to waterboard. But first, BOOFWAH! HA HA!” He clenched his fist. “Seriously, I need to probe that fucker.” He looked around. “Where is he?”

  “You don’t understand. It’s the animals.” Jenny frowned and shifted to the radio spectrum. “Randuu, what does Tanandor want?”

  “He sent Lewis Herman first. He can’t get out of this simulation while Valruun has the conduits bent and he’s still... alive. Oh dear. I think I understand what Tanandor’s doing.”

  “What?”

  “Lewis Herman isn’t a messenger. He’s an assassin. Tanandor’s been tracking him using the Animal Dominion interface. Tandandor wanted us to find Lewis Herman so he could eliminate Valruun. But now that he’s failed, he’s going to kill Lewis and clean up his mess.”

  “And Valruun still might die.”

  “Keep Lewis alive,” ordered Randuu. “I’m sorry, Jenny, but you’re all we’ve got. Arsus is sending Cleary in now, but he’s still twenty minutes out. Get Lewis to safety. Try one of the armored vehicles.” A quad-copter drone hovered over the armored car where Lewis had obtained his weapons. “The one under my drone,” said Randuu.

  Jenny grabbed Lewis by the arm. “We’ve got to get inside quick. We’re going to be attacked.”

  Lewis staggered, allowing her to lead him. “Attacked? Awesome. Point me at the enemy.”

  “They’re insects and animals.” Jenny glared at him. “Thousands and thousands of bugs, and they’re coming from every direction. You have a flame thrower on you?”

  “No…” He slipped his hand in his pocket, fingering a vial of LythoCAP. “Small soldiers. Expendable and easily replaced. Can’t stop ‘em. Reminds me of the Amazon. We need DDT, and lots of it.”

  “Just…” she tugged at him, “come on!”

  Small Soldiers

  “Are there scorpions?” asked Lewis, stopping outside of the armored car.

  Jenny thrashed around inside, throwing gear out to make room for them. Flack jackets, ammo, a medical kit, a cooler full of water, they hit the ground at Lewis’s feet.

  “Yes,” agreed Jenny. “And coyotes, big cats, rabbits, you name it. If it’s alive and it lives in the desert, it’s coming after us.”

  “Bunnies?” Lewis peered in, examining the cracks in the vehicle’s door and the shattered window up front. “This ain’t gonna stop insects from getting in.” He snorted and stepped around the side of the vehicle, pulling a vial of LythCAP from his pocket. He bit his lip. He needed a dose. His brain felt like a frozen fudge cake covered with refrigerated syrup. Hearing the yipping coyotes he put the vial back in his pocket. “Get on top,” he told Jenny. Climbing the ladder on the side, he unslung the assault rifle. Damn if he hadn’t left the Drako on top of the fire engine, but it wouldn’t have been much use anyway. This battle would not be surgical.

  Jenny took his advice and Lewis provided cover fire as she climbed up, picking off several of the angry canines as they rushed in. It didn’t slow them. Not like it should have. They were fearless. He followed her to the roof of the vehicle. “You bring a weapon?” he asked.

  She drew a pistol from her belt and fired a white hot pulse of energy that exploded in the midst of the pack lighting two of them on fire from shards of molten sand.

  “HA! The lady comes prepared!” He switched to burst mode and fired several more times. The pack kept coming and the magazine ran out. They bounced and leapt from both sides. Gnashing and slathering ferociously turning the armored car into a raft floating in a sea of feral coyotes, but the roof was too high for them. Using rifle’s butt as a club, Lewis slammed heads and snouts.

  Jenny fired again, this time using her interface to bend the plasma toward a target. It hit one of the small canines in the chest, causing its body to explode and throwing flaming bits of burning meat and smoking fur in every direction. In the temporary burst of light, she saw the ground moving. Insects, a carpet of scorpions, spiders, and other huge bugs. “Is your jump-timer up?” she shouted.

  “Huh?”

  “How long have you been in this host?”

  Lewis drew back and slammed in a new magazine. “A couple of days.”

  “Then you have to survive.”

  “No shit!” He moved the selector switch to semi-auto to conserve ammo and fired into the coyotes. As their blood and bone splattered over the ground, Lewis saw the insects. Valon hadn’t mentioned a jump-timer, but he’d said it wo
uld be three days before he could jump. That must be it – the timer. He wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he died before then, but it couldn’t be good if she was asking.

  The sides of the vehicle were smooth and difficult to climb, but the bugs were piling up, building themselves a ramp. Eventually they’d reach the roof. Blasting another coyote, Lewis turned to the broken crane behind them. Its hook dangled directly above. What were the odds it would drop into climbing range and get stuck in the perfect position? “Move to your left,” he called to Jenny.

  Another plasma bolt ignited a pile of creepy crawlers, and she turned her head, following his gaze. Remembering what Randuu had told her about Lewis’s interface, she got the idea and slid to her left just as the crane dropped its hook. With a bounce, it stopped several inches above the vehicle.

  “You go first,” commanded Lewis. “I’ll cover you.”

  “No, you go,” she insisted. “My jump-timer is up. Dying won’t kill me.”

  So that’s what it meant. “Okay, but you don’t want to die this way.”

  “I’ve still got ammunition. I’ll save a charge for myself.”

  “Keep a good count.” Lewis slung his rifle, climbed onto the top of the hook, and began pulling himself up. A pair of gloves would have been nice, he reflected as the corroded steel bit into his palms. Tiny broken strands poked him like needles, but he kept going until he reached the top. Looking down, he saw Jenny climbing after him. Below her, the bugs reached the roof, piling their bodies around the hook in a mound that would soon allow them to reach it. Smart little buggers. He put a few rounds into the cluster and blew it apart, but they soon reconvened. Helping Jenny to the top of the jib, he directed her attention. “Shoot the cable.”

  Using her left hand, she fired a white hot pulse into the center of the metal line, cutting it halfway. The load block and hook dropped in a shower of sparks. Hitting with a heavy clang, it shook the armored car causing the insects to claw madly for purchase. Checking the area, Lewis pointed to the crawler and crew cab, “Down there.” Another pile of insects formed a mound around the tracks and sides of the tractor, trapping them. Once the bugs reached the boom... they’d be swarmed. Jenny raised her pistol.