“It shouldn't matter,” the man said. He picked Howery up and slung his unconscious form over his shoulder. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be done before they realise he’s missing. And if we’re not lucky ...”
He shrugged. “You won’t have to go back to the Green Zone,” he added. “There’s a way to get you out of the City.”
Karen followed him upstairs, silently marvelling at how strong the newcomer was. Howery was hardly a small man, yet the newcomer was carrying him as if he weighed no more than a child. Upstairs, there was a small bedroom, with the sheets freshly changed. The room still smelled, but it wasn't as bad as the lower levels.
“Duct tape is inelegant, but very useful,” the newcomer said, as he bound Howery’s wrists and legs together, then slapped a piece over his mouth. “You can never have enough of it.”
He searched the General quickly, removed a handful of devices and weapons, then reached under the bed and produced a small leather bag. “If we’re lucky,” he added, “this will give Howery some control over himself. And if we’re unlucky, we will have to run for our lives.”
Karen sucked in her breath as the newcomer pushed the device against Howery’s head and did ... something.
***
Nicolas removed the injector from Howery’s head and watched, grimly, as the man started to twitch. It didn't seem to matter, according to Theta, if the subject was awake or asleep when the nanites were used; there was brain activity either way. But it might make a difference when they tested Howery, afterwards. His bag also contained a stimulant that they might need to use to awaken him.
“Keep one ear open for incoming surprises,” he ordered Karen. The girl was clearly nervous, which wasn’t too surprising. Judging from the briefing, she’d been pitched headlong into the collaborator government, yet she’d had the presence of mind to open a secret channel to the resistance. They were lucky to have her. “And then relax. You’re twitching too much.”
The girl blushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just ...”
Nicolas smiled, remembering some of the odder parts of their training. The key to successful robberies, they’d learned, was looking normal. It was funny how few people, even trained guards, asked questions if someone looked as though they should be there. The proper uniform, the right bearing ... someone’s mind would fill in the gaps, as long as there was nothing overt to rouse their suspicions. If Karen had managed to survive as long as she had in the Green Zone, she should know to keep her feelings under control.
“I can tie you to the chair if you want,” he added, dryly. “But that would make it hard to escape.”
Karen stared at him, then realised that it was a joke. “No, thank you,” she said. “How long does this take to work?”
“As long as it takes,” Nicolas said. Theta had said that the pre-programmed nanites would take around ten minutes to complete their task, unless something went badly wrong. “Just relax. We’re in no immediate danger.”
The girl eyed him as though he were crazy. Nicolas found it hard to blame her. Not everyone could remain cool in a dangerous situation.
“Trust me,” he added. “This will take only a few more minutes.”
Quietly, he started to prepare the stimulant. At least they had proper medical records for the General. The stimulant shouldn't do him any real harm, even though he hadn't used it since his enforced retirement. But no one knew what the aliens might have given the Walking Dead ...
“Here we go,” he said, as he pushed the needle against Howery’s arm. “This should wake him up.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Washington DC, USA
Day 226
General Dave Howery felt ... odd.
He was no stranger to hangovers; drinking hard had been a mark of manhood where he’d grown up. Even after joining the military, he’d maintained his capacity for drinking alcohol, although he had moved to a better class of alcohol as he’d been promoted upwards. And drink had been a consolation after his enforced retirement and then ... his thought skittered away from events after his retirement. All that mattered was that he felt strange.
His face felt odd too, as if it was stiff and worn. He tried to reach up and discovered that his wrists were taped behind his back. Someone had taped up his mouth too, he realised, along with his legs. He was a prisoner? Had the Jihadist fuckers finally caught up with him? The bastards had sworn bloody revenge on every American officer and enlisted man in existence; his outspoken stance against them would have put him high on the list of targets. But his memory refused to work right ...
He blinked as a face appeared above him. “General,” a voice said softly, “how much do you remember?”
Dave shuddered as his memories unlocked, unleashing a torrent of images he devoutly hoped were nightmares. Alien craft approaching Earth, one hovering high over Washington. Media footage of fighter jets battling UFOs and losing. Strange monstrous forms advancing over American territory and ... and ... and ...
... There was a needle, coming down from high overhead. Dave fought and struggled, but the restraints held him firmly in place. There was a stab of pain as the needle slid into his forehead, then ... then an agony that had had him screaming so much that his throat was raw. But had that been real? He couldn't remember. The world had been dim, almost unreal. And now it was bright and clear ...
He tried to speak. But the gag prevented him from saying a word.
“Here,” the voice said. There was a brief moment of pain as the gag was torn off. “What do you remember?”
Howery shuddered as the memories roared through his head. He was a traitor. He’d been made a traitor. The aliens had turned him into their unthinking slave, forcing him to use his talents and experience in their service. He had organised the Order Police and turned them into a weapon aimed at true American patriots. There could be no mercy for one such as he.
He should have fought. But it had been unthinkable.
“Everything,” he said, numbly. “What did you do to me?”
“The aliens put an implant in your brain to ... make you loyal to them,” the voice said. “We invented a medical treatment that crippled the implant. Welcome back, General Howery.”
Dave turned his head. There was a man – a soldier by the looks of him, despite the civilian clothes – and a young girl, standing at the edge of the room. He recognised her, dimly; Daisy Fairchild’s young aide. Was she working for the resistance too? He hoped so ...
“My face feels funny,” he muttered, as he tried to sit upright. “What happened to it?”
“I don’t know the precise details,” the man admitted. “However, the basic idea is that you will still look like one of the Walking Dead.”
“You want me to spy for you,” Dave said, bluntly. His memories were settling down into place now. His time as an alien slave was a nightmare, but he remembered it in every detail. “You don’t want to take me out of here and debrief me?”
“I’m afraid I can't do that,” the man said. “You’re in a very important position right now.”
Dave nodded, even though the thought of going back to the Green Zone filled him with terror. If the aliens realised that something was wrong, they would take him back to their craft and check his implants thoroughly. And when they discovered that something had happened to his implants ... they'd be more careful how they implanted him the second time.
“I understand,” he said. He honestly didn't know how he was going to avoid wringing the neck of Daisy Fairchild and her ilk, but he’d have to do it somehow. God knew that losing control would be disastrous. “What else do you want from me?”
The man smiled. “Everything you can tell us about the aliens, their plans, their deployments ... everything,” he said. “As one of the Walking Dead, you have access to far more intelligence than anyone else, even” – he nodded at Karen “our other sources in the Green Zone. You can also move around without being questioned, even without direct orders from the aliens. That sort of access could be very usefu
l.”
“I dare say it could,” Dave agreed. He hesitated, then lifted his arms. “Would you mind releasing me?”
The man produced a penknife and sliced off the duct tape. “I’m sorry about the lost hair,” he said, as Dave pulled his hands free. “We didn't have cuffs.”
Dave scowled at him, rubbing his face. It felt numb, as if the dentist had overdone the anaesthetic. His teeth didn't feel quite right in his head. He recalled looking at his own face in the mirror, back when he'd been an alien slave, and shivered at the memory. His face had been immobile for so long that he’d forgotten how to smile. Or maybe it was just the side effects of the implants.
“That’s quite all right,” he said, eyeing Karen. She’d taken one hell of a risk luring him out here, knowing that it might blow her cover. “When are we going back to the snake pit?”
“As soon as you’re ready,” the man said. “I don’t know how long it will be before they realise that you’re out of touch.”
“Before you go,” Karen added, speaking for the first time, “could you tell us what these are?”
Dave looked over at the devices he’d been carrying in his pockets. “Communicator, for speaking with the aliens or other ... other slaves,” he said. “Neural rod – stuns anyone who touches the business end. Stimulant injector – used for boosting when we’re exhausted, yet have to keep going ...”
“Thank you,” the man said, as soon as Dave had finished. “Now, about the resistance meeting ...”
Dave leaned forward, interested. “What do you want me to tell them?”
“Tell them that they want some additional guarantees of their safety,” the man said. “And a few other things besides.”
“I don’t think the masters ... the aliens will go for that,” Dave admitted. “Or do you just want to come up with an excuse for a failed negotiation?”
“It will do,” the man said. He looked over at Karen. “Can you wait in the next room? I need to ask Howery a question in private.”
Karen hesitated, then nodded, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Dave felt his eyes straying to her ass, feeling a stir he hadn't really felt since he’d been a teenager. The aliens had done something to his emotions, he realised again; Karen had flashed him and he hadn't even cared. Now ... now part of him wanted to follow her into the next room and try his luck, just as he would have done as a teenager.
He gritted his teeth. This was going to be humiliating. He was sure of it.
“We may need you to do more than spying, sooner rather than later,” the man said. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“Yes,” Dave said, bluntly. Whatever else happened, he wanted revenge on the aliens – and on those who had collaborated with them of their own free will. “I can handle whatever you need me to handle.”
“Good,” the man said. “Go downstairs and wait just inside the door. I need a few private words with Karen before you go.”
***
Karen couldn't help feeling a little annoyed that they’d excluded her from the final discussions, although she did have to admit that what she didn't know she couldn't tell. It was still galling, after all the risks she’d taken to get General Howery to the resistance lair ... her lips quirked into a smile when she recognised what it meant. With Howery working for the resistance, the aliens were in for a nasty shock.
She stepped into a back bedroom and looked around, feeling as if she was intruding in someone’s private room. It had once belonged to a child, she decided, though she couldn't tell offhand if it had been a boy or a girl. The chest of drawers had been hastily emptied, while the bedding had been abandoned on the bed and left to rot. A handful of Lego toys and a stuffed cat were lying on the ground; two Harry Potter and one Doctor Who posters decorated the walls. The sight of the abandoned room chilled her to the bone.
“Karen,” the man said, as he came out of the meeting room. “There are a few things I need to tell you. One is that you will be handling the General’s communications to us.”
Karen nodded. She’d already guessed as much.
“The second is that you cannot do it completely alone,” the man added. “Your friend Jasmine will assist you.”
“Oh,” Karen said.
She found herself flushing brightly. Weeks ago, Jasmine had joined her in the shower and they’d made love. After that, they’d done it several more times, although they’d always been discreet. Karen couldn't help wondering if Jasmine had reported their lovemaking to her superiors, or if she’d been ordered to get close to Karen. She'd certainly found a good way to do it, if so.
“There are codewords you have to remember,” the man said. He gave her four, two of which were to identify Karen. The other two were for emergencies only. “And don’t write any of them down.”
Karen nodded, impatiently. She knew that already.
“Good luck,” the man added. “You can drive back with the General. He’ll brief you on the way.”
“Ok,” Karen said. “And thank you.”
She couldn’t help slumping into her seat as General Howery drove her back towards the Green Zone. Her shirt was sodden with sweat; she hadn't realised just how badly she’d been sweating until it had all paid off. If General Howery had been normal, he might have noticed that something was wrong before she got him to the resistance lair. As it was, everything had worked ...
So far, she reminded herself, sternly
She listened as General Howery outlined their cover story. The resistance had been contacted, but they had made excessive demands that would have to be cleared by the aliens before they were granted. That wasn't unexpected – and it gave them an excuse to go outside the Green Zone again, if necessary. The General’s face was still as expressionless as before, but she caught him glancing at her from time to time, as if he was interested in her. It was both flattering and a little disturbing.
They passed through the security checks at the gates without incident, much to Karen’s relief. The Green Zone defences had been toughened up after someone had tried to ram a truck filled with explosives into the secure zone, blowing up the checkpoint and a dozen guards when they opened fire. She’d been afraid that someone would notice that something was wrong with the General’s implants, but instead they all kowtowed and obeyed his commands without question. But then, he still sounded like one of the Walking Dead.
“You may return to your quarters,” Howery said, when they were back inside the complex. His voice was stiff and cold, although there were faint changes in his body language. “I will contact you when we can proceed.”
Karen nodded and turned away, heading towards the elevator that led up towards the suites that had been put aside for senior collaborators and their aides. Daisy had arranged for her to have exclusive use of a suite large enough for several people, one that would have been well beyond her means before the invasion. It was easy to see, she thought, not for the first time, why so many had chosen to collaborate. Even the lucky non-collaborators were finding it hard to put food on the table, let alone enjoy the luxury of pre-invasion life. It was funny how little they’d realised how lucky they were until the world turned upside down.
She stepped into her suite and looked around, checking for signs that someone had entered the rooms and searched it while she’d been gone. It wasn't as if she kept anything incriminating in the room, but she still wanted at least the illusion of privacy. As soon as she was satisfied, she walked over to the intercom and asked for Jasmine. The manager assured her that the maid would be up in a few minutes.
Karen shook her head tiredly as she pulled off her clothes, uncomfortably aware that she had picked up some of the stench from the abandoned apartment. Jasmine and her fellow maids would have to do the washing, in-between tending to the every whim of the collaborators. From what Jasmine had told her, the collaborators could be very imaginative – and demanding.
The door opened, revealing Jasmine. She was slightly shorter than Karen, with curly brown hair and
a charmingly impish smile. The uniform she wore revealed most of her body and hinted at the rest; Jasmine had admitted, once, that it had been designed by one of the collaborators. Karen had a suspicion that she knew where he’d picked up the idea.
“You called?” Jasmine asked, smiling brightly. “What can I do for you?”
Karen smiled back. “Why don't you join me in the shower,” she said, for the benefit of any bugs that had been hidden in the room. She’d looked, but she’d learned fairly quickly that she didn't have a hope of finding them without some proper equipment and training, neither of which she had. “It should be fun.”
She couldn't help a twinge of envy as Jasmine stripped off naturally, without a hint of embarrassment. The maid’s body was far better than her own, with high firm breasts and perfect skin. She’d heard that the aliens were offering medical treatment to their collaborators as well as everything else; given their skill with genetic enhancement, was it possible that they could engineer beauty into a human form? But beauty was in the eye of the beholder, Karen reminded herself. Jasmine might not have been considered a beauty in the past, before fashions had changed.
“Come on,” Karen said, pushing the thought aside. She stepped into the shower – it was easily the largest shower she’d seen – and turned on the taps. Water sprayed out from all directions, washing away the stench of the apartment. “I don’t have all day.”
Jasmine stepped into the shower and closed the door, allowing water to run over her breasts. Her hands reached out to stroke Karen’s chest ... for a moment, Karen almost gave into temptation and allowed her to go ahead, before pulling her into a tight hug.
“I have something to say to you,” she whispered. “Pabulum. Potomac.”
Jasmine tensed so hard that Karen gasped in pain. “You ... you ...”
“Relax,” Karen hissed. The roar of the shower should make it hard for anyone to overhear them, but they had to be careful. “You didn't tell me either.”
Jasmine turned away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I felt so ... so conflicted.”
Outside Context Problem: Book 03 - The Slightest Hope of Victory Page 23