The Recarn Chronicles- Omnibus Edition

by Greg Krojac

  “It’s an algorithm, not a program. And yes I do. Why?”

  “Because we need it to find someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Zafar.”

  “What?”

  “We believe that Zafar is being held captive in stasis just like Caitlin was.”

  “How? I mean, how did you find out?”

  “That doesn’t matter. But if it’s true, then we need to rescue him and try to stop this madness and killing that’s going on.”

  “Too bloody right.”

  Adam opened his notebook computer.

  “Remember how I was able to search the prison computer systems invisibly to locate Cait? That’s what I’ll do to find Zafar. If he’s in one of those places, I’ll find him. Do we know what name he’s in the system under?”

  “Shit. I forgot to ask.”

  Max quickly called Caitlin and got the answer.

  “Brooks. Emmanuel Brooks.”

  “That should help. There can’t be many people in the system with that name. It should only take a few minutes; I’ve turbocharged the search.”

  The minutes passed like minutes but to Max, they seemed like hours. Suddenly Adam fist-pumped the air.

  “Yes! Found him. At least I think I have. We’ll have to get a visual to confirm.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I can, but I warn you it’s a bit yucky.”

  “Yucky, that’s the technical term is it?”

  “Well, they stand them up naked in a tube, connect them up to tubes to deliver nutrients, so they don’t die, and stuff two other tubes into them – one a catheter and the other up their arse – to remove waste products. To top all that, they cover them with a gooey mess they call a placenta. I think the term ‘yucky’ describes it pretty well. I’ll patch into the operational system and start removing the placenta. We have to be quick though because after a few seconds the system starts to automatically refill the tube.”

  Max was shocked. He knew that Caitlin had undergone a horrendous experience at HMP666 but he hadn’t known the details. He tried to put the disturbing image to the back of his mind.

  “Okay. Let’s go for it.”

  The two men watched the monitor as stasis tube number 0431-8 came into view. Adam touched a couple of keys and the placenta level dropped steadily until it was chest height. He looked at Max.

  “What do you reckon? Is it Zafar? You’ve had more dealings with him than I have, I’ve only met him a couple of times.”

  “Let me have a closer look. Whoever it is, his face is smeared with that gunk.”

  “Be quick then. The level’s going to start rising any second.”

  “Can you zoom in?”

  “Yep. There you go and here comes more gunk.”

  “That’s Zafar. That’s definitely Zafar. I’d swear on my dead mother’s soul.”

  Max knew the circumstances of his mother’s death and didn’t say this lightly. He wished that he could meet whoever she was now and let her know that he hadn’t died in that laboratory on that fateful day when she was cruelly killed, but he knew that even if she was a Recarn, the FS Virus had almost certainly wiped her Past Life Memory clean. He was an anomaly, in that he still had his PLM. Martin was the only other Recarn that he knew who could still remember his past lives. There were bound to be others but they would be few and far between. Adam stood up.

  “Right. Let’s let the others know we’ve found Zafar. We’ve got a rescue to plan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  02:58 FRIDAY 19 JANUARY 2091

  The extraction of Zafar from HMP1882 was a much more ordered affair than Caitlin’s rescue had been; That time, only Michelle and young Buzz Aldrin were physically involved with Adam providing remote assistance with prison and sewer system schematics. The operation had been hastily planned and had relied upon a lot of improvisation; it was a wonder that Caitlin was rescued at all, so ad hoc was the mission.

  This time Adam had adapted the virus he used to locate Zafar to provide him with sole control over the prison’s security system whilst completely covering his tracks. Any official user of the system would see exactly what they expected to see – a peaceful place with nothing out of the ordinary happening within its walls.

  Three o’clock in the morning was a good time to mount the rescue operation. They had decided upon the early hours of Friday 19th January as the moon would be entering the first phase of a new cycle and would be scarcely visible. Of course, the extraction force would be fully equipped with VACS technology, but it wouldn’t do any harm to work under the cover of as much darkness as possible.

  Major Daniel ‘Danny’ Driver, who had been instrumental in the capture of Marcus Gallagher, ducked into position next to his friend and colleague Corporal Richard Dante. The military ranks were irrelevant now that they were no longer Defenders; they were just two friends fighting against Garcia’s One Life, determined to do something to help the hundreds of thousands of innocent Recarns in the Argentine’s neutralisation camps that had been set up in the UK.

  The two men had set up a sophisticated network of escape routes and safe houses and, to date, had managed to spirit away hundreds of harmless Recarns to secure locations. Their lead had been followed all over the world and each country now had its own covert rescue network. Max, with his PLM intact and his World War Two experiences, was invaluable to the establishment of the original network; although the number of ex-Defenders involved in saving these Recarns had grown enormously.

  Danny spoke quietly into his communicator. Adam had patched Danny, Richard and a few other members of the rescue mission party into his private satellite link, ensuring that their messages wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Adam, it’s Danny. Everything ready your end?”

  Adam, hundreds of miles away from the action, in the cottage in the Highlands, made a couple of final checks.

  “All set here mate. Just let me know when to drop the virus.”

  “Now will be fine. We’re all set here.”

  “Okay. Releasing the virus now. Three…two…one…gone. Give me a few seconds to check that it’s taken.”

  The rescue party were anxious to get the operation under way but were highly disciplined and wouldn’t make a move until they got the all clear from Adam. After what seemed an age but wasn’t, Adam confirmed that the security of the Yorkshire prison was now completely under his control.

  Inside the prison, the sparsely distributed night staff were more interested in playing poker than remaining vigilant and looking out for escapees. Understandably so, considering that the security system was fully automated and they would only be called upon to restrain or repel intruders if the prison’s defences required their intervention. The prisoners were all in stasis – they weren’t going anywhere – and the prison could easily defend itself without having to call for human reinforcements.

  Occasionally one of the guards would glance at the bank of monitors that was tucked in the corner of the room. Everything was in order; all the stasis pods were occupied and the inhabitants fully submerged in the placenta. The perimeter was clear, the prisoner registration room was calm, and the prisoner processing room, with its stiff brooms and bars of carbolic soap, were all empty and peaceful.

  But everything was not in order. What the guard could see on the screen was not reality, but a video-loop. Where there had once been a thick steel door there was now just an open space; a model VII disruptor grenade had clinically dissolved it. The monitor failed to show the dozen heavily armed men preparing to venture even further into the prison complex. The security microphones were just as useless as the cameras; nobody heard one of the men point out the brooms in the processing room and remark how brutal the treatment of new prisoners must be.

  The group entered the main Stasis repository and began to search for pod number 0431-8. With so many people looking for it, it didn’t take long to find. Now for the difficult part; getting Zafar out of the tube and away from the prison. Danny, wh
o had been silent until now, spoke softly into his communicator.

  “Target located. Repeat, target located.”

  This was Adam’s cue to put the second part of the plan into operation. A few deft keystrokes on his touchscreen back in Scotland and Zafar’s tube began to drain of the obnoxious fluid that had encapsulated him. As the level dropped lower and lower the waste tubes became visible. When it was safe to open the tube, two medics removed the offending hoses and helped lift Zafar from his transparent cage, resting him on the concrete floor. Whilst one of the medics cleaned the gunk off the naked Zafar, the other took an auto-injector from his medical holster.

  “Mr Azad, I know you probably can’t hear me but I’m going to inject you with an antidote to the sedative that’s been keeping you unconscious for the last few months.”

  Dante passed him some clothes.

  “Here. Put these on him first. It’s going to be bad enough for him to be shocked into consciousness without waking up stark bollock naked in a room full of ugly troopers.”

  The medic dressed the unconscious man, rolling a jacket sleeve up to leave a clear site to inject the antidote. The solution was highly effective and two seconds later Zafar sat up with a start, eyes and mouth wide open. He spat out some of the placenta that had somehow got itself trapped in his cheek cavity. He looked around him and saw twelve unknown faces staring back at him.

  “Where am I? Who are you?”

  “You’ve been kept in stasis for the last few months Zafar. But that’s over now. Michelle sent us to rescue you.”

  Zafar still felt a little light-headed but when he heard the name Michelle his mind was put at rest. He didn’t know who these men were but, if Michelle had sent them, that was good enough for him. He stood up, shook his legs a few times to wake up his muscles, and walked out of the prison gingerly but unaided, surrounded by his rescuers

  His mind was returning to full activity and he wasn’t surprised when he suddenly found himself facing a helicopter, engine running and piloted by Danielle. She put her hand out and helped him into the aircraft.

  “You have no idea how glad we are to see you, Zafar. We thought you were dead.”

  “I thought I was, Danielle. I thought I was. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

  He turned to thank his rescuers but they had disappeared into the night. He went to rub his eyes to remove a tiny slither of the slimy gel that had been missed by the medic. Danielle handed him a handkerchief.

  “So where to now, Danielle?”

  “A voice from behind him called out.

  “To meet up with friends, In the Scottish Highlands.”

  “He looked round and saw Michelle and Caitlin occupying the two seats at the back of the passenger area. Now he knew that he would be alright.

  And Michelle, Caitlin, and Danielle felt that the world would now be alright. Maybe not today, but soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  03:02 WEDNESDAY 28 MAY 2091

  Thousands of Defenders had followed Danny and Richard’s lead and defected to One Life, having been shocked and spurred into action by the Massacre of the Innocents, but now, as Recarns, they found themselves once again targets of the resistance organisation. The leopard had changed its spots and One Life, now in power, was every bit as bad as the Illuminati and the ONP had been. In fact, to some extent, it was worse. Although the ONP was an oppressive regime, it had been democratically elected. It had consolidated its position through nefarious means, committing atrocities along the way, but it had never instigated or encouraged a policy of genocide against a whole section of society.

  And now, as members of One Life, they once again found themselves on the wrong side of the fence. Instead of the resistance being the saviour of the people, all the people, One Life had now morphed into a regime every bit as cruel and tyrannical as the previous one. This was not the world that Michelle and the others had been fighting for; they’d been fighting for freedom for the people of the world, not to have the oppressors replaced by another shade of oppression. They knew that the path to peace lay in unity, that Recarn and Normal needed to forget their differences and work as one for the future of mankind.

  Zafar was the key to that unity, although he didn’t yet fully realise how large that task would be, nor expect the circumstances which would finally unite humanity. Since his rescue he had assumed the leadership of UN2.0 (the name that they had given their movement) as he was by far the most qualified for the role, projecting the necessary gravitas and garnering the necessary respect. A secret network of groups and individuals, both Recarn and Non-Recarns, was established and awaited the call to action.

  Today was that day.

  Garcia was sleeping in his sumptuous bed at the Presidential Palace in London (formally Buckingham Palace, the London home of British monarchs) when he was awakened by the muzzle of a pulse gun being pressed against his temple. He opened his eyes slowly, blinked a few times as his eyes became used to the transition from dark to light, and looked around the room. Before him stood five officers of his Personal Guard, a sixth holding a gun to his head. Captain Roger Winston took a pace forward from the group of five.

  “Señor Santino Felipe Garcia, you are under arrest. I suggest you don’t resist; our orders are not to kill you but if you force us to do so, we will.”

  Garcia was fully awake now but still couldn’t believe his ears.

  “What do you mean, I’m under arrest? You can’t arrest me. I’m World President. I run the show.”

  “You ran the show, Senõr Garcia. Now, you are our prisoner.”

  “By whose authority? This is ridiculous. Get out at once.”

  “You can bluster all you want, Senõr Garcia. It won’t do any good. The Palace is under our control.”

  “But, but… how?”

  “Your official Personal Guard detail, the one that was expected to relieve those that went off shift half an hour ago, was intercepted en route and replaced. A relief guard was expected and it arrived. That was us. There was nothing to make anyone suspicious.”

  “You’ll never get out of here alive. There are two dozen platoons of troops at this palace all loyal to me. They’ll cut you down as soon as they realise what you’ve done.”

  “They may try. But the truth of the matter is that we have men embedded in those battalions and the battalion commanders are with us. Nobody’s coming to rescue you.”

  “So you’ve managed to arrest me. What now? I’m World President. The entire planet is covered with loyal troops and governments who would die to rid this planet of the Recarn menace.”

  Captain Winston raised his eyebrow and gave Garcia a sardonic look.

  “Yes. You keep thinking that too.”

  Whilst the officers had been making their way to Garcia’s bedroom, the Presidential Palace had been surrounded by units of armoured vehicles and UN2.0 troops, with weapons trained on the occupants of the palace. The first instinct of the defending troops was to offer resistance but, when those loyal to Garcia realised that they weren’t only facing weapons pointed at them from outside the palace boundaries but from within their own ranks, the instinct of self-preservation took over. So they lowered their arms and placed their guns on the ground. Their devotion to the Recarn genocide wasn’t strong enough for them to die for it.

  In the bedroom, Garcia, still sitting up in his bed felt far too vulnerable.

  “May I get dressed?”

  Captain Winston agreed to his request. Garcia slid out from under the silk sheets and stood before the group naked except for a pair of silk boxer shorts.

  “May I have some privacy?”

  “No. Just get some clothes on.”

  Garcia walked over to where his lilac shirt and dark jacket and trousers were slung over a chair. He put his hand in a trouser pocket only to find it empty. Captain John Nicholson held up a small pulse pistol and a communicator.

  “Looking for these?”

  Garcia wasn’t surprised that the items were no longer i
n his trouser pocket but there was no harm in checking. Captain Winston continued.

  “Even if you had managed to get to your communicator, it wouldn’t have worked. We’ve taken down your entire communications network. The lot. The whole planet.”

  Garcia gritted his teeth. This had to be Adam’s doing. Only he had the ability to do this kind of thing. But who could be behind this coup? Ethan Armstrong was dead; at least, he was assumed to be dead – no body had been found – but the ease with which the Illuminati had collapsed was a testament to his being out of the picture. Both Ethan and Liam would, of course, have been reincarnated but without PLMs. They were no longer a threat. Zafar was locked up safely in stasis. Was there a new major player that he had missed? Perhaps someone from within his own government?

  Garcia got dressed and sat down on the now empty chair. There was a knock on the bedroom door. Captain Nicholson opened the door and beckoned Garcia’s wife and daughters to enter the room. Garcia moved towards them but his wife, Sofia, shied away from his welcoming embrace. She looked at him with cold eyes.

  “My mother was right. I should never have married you.”

  Garcia was shocked. He knew that his mother-in-law wasn’t overly fond of him, but he and Sofia had a wonderfully fulfilling relationship. He tried to retain his dignity but was visibly ruffled.

  “Isn’t that a little cliché, my love?”

  “I don’t care what it is. You were a wonderful, caring, humane man when I met you but your ambition and pure hatred for Recarns has consumed you. It’s turned you into a monster.”

  “Sofia, not in front of the children. Please.”

  “They know what you are. They’ve seen friends, Recarns, taken away to processing camps never to return. I only wish I’d come to my senses earlier.”

  Garcia couldn’t understand why his wife had turned against him. Had he not provided her with everything that she could possibly desire? She wanted for nothing.

  “But I gave you everything. You’re my life. You and the children are my life.”

  Sofia stopped him before he could continue.