The Recarn Chronicles- Omnibus Edition

by Greg Krojac

  “Caitlin. I’m thinking of telling Danielle what’s going on. It’s killing me keeping this secret from her. I kept an earlier secret from her and it almost wrecked me.”

  “Can you trust her?”

  “I think so. I hope so. I really want to trust her. I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know her like you do, but there’s something that maybe you should know before making a decision.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, remember that day when you and Buzz rescued me from that bastard Marcus? You were in the middle of an op and abandoned it to come and save me. Remember that you were part of a team of four? You, Danielle, and two other guys, Dave and Matt? Dave found your ViLoc transmitter and he and Matt were going to turn you in. Danielle couldn’t let that happen, so she took them out.”

  “As in killed them? I thought they got killed in the raid.”

  “Technically, they did. Just not by the enemy.”

  To say that Michelle was shocked would be an understatement.

  “Bloody hell. I had no idea.”

  “So I think it’s safe to assume that you can trust her. You weren’t together then, she didn’t even know if she stood a chance with you. And she killed to save you. Dani would do anything for you. And we need all the help we can get.”

  “Cait. I’ve just had another thought. What about Martin?”

  “Martin?”

  “You know. Martin. Used to be Buzz. Helped me rescue you.”

  “Oh shit. You’re right. We have to help him too.”

  ‘We’re gonna be busy, sis.”

  “We certainly are.”

  Michelle turned on the VACS camouflage system, opened the throttle of her powerful steed and the bike roared off to One Life Headquarters. To do otherwise may have aroused suspicion

  Later that evening found Michelle pacing up and down her parents’ living room like an expectant father, except that she wasn’t anxiously awaiting the birth of a new child, but a phone call. A very important phone call to be precise. A phone call that could well be a matter of life or death.

  Her father, Maurice, had never lost his paranoia about people listening in to his conversations – in fact, his fears had got worse as he got older – so, as a dutiful daughter, Michelle had always made sure that he had the most sophisticated and state-of-the-art anti-listening system available. There had been times when she wondered if the seventy-one year old’s paranoia went too far, but she was thankful of it now, when she was expecting a call from Adam via his secure satellite link. A secure environment was imperative.

  She checked the time again. Maurice put down his tablet and reached a hand out to his eldest daughter, a hand that she didn’t even notice.

  “Michelle. He’s only seven minutes late. It’s not as if it’s likely that he’s in trouble or anything. He will phone. He’ll probably phone any second.”

  Her phone burst into life and the sigh of relief that Michelle uttered seemed almost loud enough that the neighbours would have heard.

  “Adam?”

  “Of course. Who else would it be?”

  “I was worried. You’re late.”

  “Only a few minutes. You should know better than anyone that sometimes something prevents us from being perfectly on time.”

  “Yes. Sorry. So what was it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “Anyway, I’ve got information about Martin.”

  “Go on.”

  “Using my incredible IT skills I hacked into – completely imperceptibly, might I add – the logistics server of One Life.”

  “How do you know that you weren’t spotted?”

  “Because I helped build the software that runs on it and I put a back door in. It’s common practice amongst computer geniuses - or is that genii, I never really know. I’ll stick with geniuses. Anyway, computer geniuses, like myself, usually leave a back door in any program we write, just in case we need to get access sometime in the future. Of course, One Life is aware of this and look for the back door. So I created two. One for them to find and one just for me. Clever, eh?”

  Michelle thought she’d better get Adam back on track.

  ‘So, about Martin?”

  “He was picked up from college last night by One Life agents and is, at present, in a holding cell in an undisclosed location.”

  “So we don’t know where he is?”

  “We didn’t, until I performed some more sorcery. I’m sending the coordinates to you now.”

  Michelle looked at the map on her phone, which had automatically translated the numbers into a visual representation.

  “I’m going to need Dani’s help on this one. I spoke to her last night and filled her in. After what Caitlin told me, I knew I could trust her. She’s in. When’s Martin being shipped out?”

  “Tomorrow, eight o’clock in the morning.”

  “Do you know where they’re taking him?”

  “Of course. He and a load of other One Life Recarns will leave in a truck from the holding centre and meet a train which will then transport them to a Processing Plant somewhere in France.”

  “I don’t like the sound of a Processing Plant. Do we know what exactly a Processing Plant is?”

  “I thought you might know.”

  “Not now Garcia’s in charge. I’m not getting told half the things that I used to be told when Douglas and Zafar ran the show. We’ll have to make our move on the truck. If Martin gets on the train it’ll be much more difficult to rescue him. Leave it to me.”

  ***

  The following morning a large articulated truck pulled up at the gates of Portsmouth Prison, a recently commissioned Recarn holding centre. After a brief security check, it was allowed to enter the prison complex and reversed up to the loading bay where food and supplies were usually unloaded. The driver and his mate climbed out of the cab and opened the doors of the empty trailer.

  From a vantage point on Portsdown Hill overlooking the city Michelle, Caitlin and Danielle looked on with their high powered binoculars, surveying the scene at the prison. A whistle blew and a long line of men, women, and children began to thread its way out of a loading bay door and onto the truck. Michelle grabbed her sister by the arm.

  “Look at their faces, I mean their foreheads.”

  Caitlin pressed a small button on the right hand side of the binoculars and zoomed in on the face of a young woman. She panned up the woman’s face and suddenly let out a gasp.

  “Is that a tattoo?”

  Danielle zoomed in.

  “You mean that triangle with the single eye inside?”

  Michelle nodded. Danielle was visibly shocked.

  “That’s awful. It’s inhumane. It’s a brand. They’re branding people like cattle.”

  Michelle focussed on a small girl holding her mother’s hand tightly, both branded with the tell-tale marker.

  “Garcia doesn’t see Recarns as people. Remember his propaganda. He sees Recarns as mutants, as not being human. He’s branding all of them, even the children. They must have been terrified, poor kids.”

  Caitlin interrupted her sister.

  “There. Behind the fat bald guy. That’s Martin.”

  Sure enough, Martin was filing into the back of the truck with all the others, sporting the same red Illuminati symbol in the centre of his forehead. All three women watching from the hill felt the urge to go down to the prison and try to stage a rescue, but they also knew that that would have been folly; they wouldn’t have got anywhere near the prison, let alone been able to effect a rescue mission. They were much better off sticking with the plan that had been formulated the previous night.

  Danielle went over to the corner of the small gravel car park. Normally it would have been full of cars, their owners enjoying the view of the harbour down below, but times had changed; people didn’t feel safe enough to venture outside except for necessities, for fear of being picked up – rightly or wrongly �
�� as a Recarn. There was nothing in the corner of the car park – or so it seemed. Suddenly she disappeared from view completely. A few seconds later there was a slight spray of loose gravel was thrown into the air as her invisible motorcycle raced off in the direction of Eastleigh, safely hidden under the protective cloak of the on board VACS system.

  Michelle and Caitlin could do nothing until the truck had left the prison. They knew that it would have to head for the Eurotunnel, the underwater link between Britain and France, but there were three possible alternative routes. The sisters watched as the trailer doors were slammed shut and bolted, the driver and his mate climbed into the cab, and it started to make its way to the M275, one of the only two exits from Portsea Island, upon which the city of Portsmouth stood. Once the truck reached the end of the M275, the would-be rescuers could confirm the next part of the plan. As the vehicle approached the beginning of the motorway, two motorcycle outriders took up position a few yards in front of the vehicle and its human cargo. There once was a time when this convoy would have travelled under VACS protection but the Illuminati was now in its death throes and was too busy fending off the continuing multiple and simultaneous attacks of the resistance to proactively attack a One Life shipment itself. The truck and its outriders certainly wouldn’t be expecting an attack from their own resistance members

  Michelle and Caitlin watched as the truck and its escorts turned right, to travel along the A27 in the direction of Brighton and the east coast. That was a relief. If the vehicle had turned left and taken the M27/M3 route, or turned right and taken the A3M road, it could have travelled more quickly and their plan would have been more difficult.

  Michelle made a quick phone call to Danielle before she and Caitlin mounted their own VACS protected motorcycles and sped off in pursuit of the truck. Michelle switched on her in-helmet comms set.

  “Dani…they’re taking the A27 route. Caitlin and I will rendezvous with you just before Arundel. Did you get that Cait?”

  “Loud and clear. Arundel it is.”

  The sisters kept a safe distance behind the truck, not for fear of being detected – there was no chance of that – but because there was no point in hurrying. They had chosen the spot for their ambush well.

  Neither the truck driver, nor the outriders, nor even Michelle and Caitlin saw or heard the VACS camouflaged helicopter pass overhead as they passed Chichester. About ten miles further on, the miniature convoy and its invisible pursuers approached the picturesque market town of Arundel. It really was a beautiful area, peaceful and very rural. Arundel Castle had seen many things in its one thousand year history, but it wouldn’t be able to witness what was about to happen on the outskirts of the town.

  Michelle and Caitlin overtook the truck and drove alongside the outriders, who were oblivious to fact that they were in danger. The women gave a well-directed shove to each of the riders and the motorcycles careered off course, pitching the riders onto the hard asphalt surface of the road where they lay unconscious. The truck driver didn’t know what to do. The area had been declared clean, clear of all potential Illuminati activity. Should he carry on or slow down and stop?

  His dilemma was soon resolved for him as the wheels of his trailer disappeared into thin air, having been vaporised by two strategically placed disruptor grenades. These were the new mark VII grenades with the variable depth configuration. They had never been used outside of the One Life development and testing laboratories before, but this was a perfect test. The rear of the trailer dipped down onto the road’s surface whilst at the same time forcing the tractor unit to rear up in front of it. There was a shower of sparks as the trailer slid roughly along the road before coming to a halt. The driver and his mate clambered down from the driver’s cab to be faced with two crash helmeted woman pointing pulse guns at them. The men started to visibly tremble.

  “Please don’t kill us.”

  Michelle put his mind at rest.

  “Don’t worry. We’re the good guys. We’re just going to send you to sleep for a while and relieve you of your cargo.”

  With that, orange beams of light shot out of the pulse gun nozzles hitting each man in the chest, knocking them unconscious. Caitlin ran around the back of the truck and unbolted the doors. She was almost knocked over by the enthusiasm of the captives to escape their mobile prison.

  “Everybody, please be calm. You’re free now. I don’t know where you can go, but you can’t go home. Spread out into small groups, you’ll be safer that way. Just get as far away from here as possible.”

  The released captives started running away from the scene of the accident. Michelle reached out and grabbed a young man as he tried to push past her to make good his escape.

  “Not you. You’re coming with us.”

  A grin swept over his face.

  “Michelle? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Martin. Just come with us and you’ll be safe. I hope these other poor souls find somewhere to take refuge; it’s going to be difficult to hide with those Illuminati symbols on their foreheads. I wish we could take all of them to safety but we can’t.”

  She looked at Martin’ face and suddenly felt embarrassed at how she had highlighted the disfigurement that he shared with the others. The sisters led their young friend to a nearby field where Dani was waiting with the concealed helicopter. Martin’s eyes sparkled as they entered the protective dome and he could see the helicopter and its pilot.

  “Cool. This is just like when we rescued Caitlin and you had that invisible motorbike.”

  Michelle was taken aback.

  “You remember that?”

  “Yeah. Of course. Why? Shouldn’t I?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  13:47 SUNDAY 9 JULY 2090

  The Illuminati and the ONP had never experienced anything like it. They were accustomed to frequent attacks from One Life, to sabotage and incursions, but they had never faced anything like this before. All out assaults on installations were taking place all over the globe. Normally attacks caused damage and casualties but the arrival of reinforcements kept damage to the Organisation to a minimum. The attacks were almost symbolic in nature, designed to remind the Illuminati that One Life was still around and that they shouldn’t become complacent. It had always been like this.

  But this was different. Every single installation that the Illuminati operated, every research establishment, every military base, every administration office came under simultaneous attack. This was a highly coordinated operation designed to cause rapid and maximum damage, with no opportunity to muster reinforcements. If the local ONP administrative offices at Jackson in California was attacked, it could normally expect support and assistance from the neighbouring Illuminati garrisons at Stockton, Modesto, and maybe from Sacramento. If the Illuminati central headquarters in Johannesburg came under fire, it could normally rely upon forces from Roodepoort, Sandston, and Germiston to help out. An assault on Copenhagen in Denmark would normally result in reinforcements being dispatched immediately from neighbouring Malmo in Sweden. But this time those neighbouring forces were themselves struggling under One Life attack; they were in no position to give assistance to anybody else. Communications zapped between bases, installations, and offices begging for reinforcements only to be told that the resources that they were requesting were also under attack.

  Garcia had spent years surreptitiously planning this campaign. He had grandiose dreams of being the saviour of mankind, of rescuing humanity from Recarn rule. The subtle manipulation that he had applied to Douglas over the previous twelve months had borne fruit. The eldest of four children, he had seen his father killed by an ONP assassin for daring to oppose the ONP mayor in local elections. His father, Enrico, had started gaining popularity with the electorate, so it was decided to eliminate the threat. Garcia had vowed to destroy the Illuminati and all it stood for; to him, such a vow, even from an eight year old, was never to be forgotten.

  At his campaign headquarters on Douglas’s secluded island, invisible
to the prying eyes of the outside world, he scanned the bank of oversized monitors, each showing several assaults as they happened in real-time. He was a happy man; there was no way even the Illuminati with its vast resources could recover from such an enormous and coordinated onslaught. Garcia beckoned his trusted second-in-command to join him.

  “Stage one is going to plan. Look at the screens, Alexander, look at the screens. Isn’t that a wonderful sight to behold? This is even better than we could have hoped for. The Illuminati is crumbling, running around like headless chickens.”

  Indeed they were. Electromagnetic pulses had disabled the automatic defences of installations, leaving the defensive forces with no option but to break cover and face the attacking armies with considerably less effective weaponry. Garcia had increased production of disruptor grenades and had authorised their indiscriminate use. The resulting carnage that resulted from the grenades was stomach-churning. An off-shoot from failed matter transportation experiments, they had been designed primarily as a means to breech structural defences. They had never been intended as an anti-personnel weapon, but Garcia didn’t worry about such things. The only good Recarn was a dead Recarn, and he wasn’t concerned in the manner that they should die. The areas around the battlegrounds were strewn with limbs and body parts, where parts of Defenders’ bodies had fallen outside of kill-zones. Their deaths had actually been swift, painless, and instantaneous, but the bloody remains that littered the sites suggested otherwise. It was difficult to see limbs and heads, scythed from their bodies, without imagining that pain and suffering had been visited upon their owners.

  Garcia was far too exuberant in his appreciation of what he saw unfolding before him. His satisfaction at a well-planned operation being executed with more ease that he could have anticipated could be understood, but he could scarcely contain himself. If he could have patted himself on the back, he would have done.