Earth-Net

by David J. Garrett

  Jonah wrapped the bloody lump of meat in a scrap of fabric cut from his old pants, dragged the body into deeper undergrowth and began to move forward once again.

  Twenty minutes later, Jonah slunk into the back of a windowless, outlying concrete building. Moving slowly and staying out of the line of sight of the few guards that moved around the perimeter of the complex.

  He had already spotted a large hanger-like structure that looked like a likely parking spot for the trucks. The noise of the children playing had been steadily growing and appeared to be coming from the other side of the building behind which Jonah hid. From his vantage, Jonah could see the side entrance to the hanger and watched as a CDSE security man exited. A lit RFID access panel was inset into the wall adjacent to the door which glided closed as the man exited.

  Jonah slid around the building, angling to get a better view of what was looking more and more like a quadrangle between a small collection of buildings. As more of the quad came into view, Jonah began to see play equipment, a jungle gym and groups of children running in the bright lights that flooded the small compound. Jonah stared wide eyed at the children. It was like a bizarre dream. What on earth were they doing here? Or more to the point, what on Diana were they doing here.

  All were dressed in identical uniforms. Shorts, T-shirts, and sports shoes. He forced his eyes away from the bizarre sight, struggling to keep his mind on task. They didn’t appear to be captive. No fences and no guards. A slim red hair woman in a similar uniform to the children stood with her back to him at the far end of the quad. Otherwise there were no adults.

  Jonah forced his attention to the door in the hanger. It was a short sprint across the yard. He tried to block out the children’s laughter s and force himself to calmness. He walked purposefully, as if he belonged, and knew exactly what he was doing. He didn’t even allow his eyes to drift towards the children, focusing instead on the access panel to the door.

  His neck tingled as if a thousand eyes watched his progress, but nobody called out to stop him. At the door he pulled the blood-soaked bundle of fabric containing the dead security man’s ID implant and held his breath as he held it to the access panel. The red surround light changed to green and the door responded with a satisfying click. Jonah let his breath out, opened the door and entered.

  Inside, sensor lights flickered on revealing a wide, hard, packed dirt floor and a jumbled assortment of old shelves, tables, lab equipment, and other moldering detritus. The three familiar transports hunkered at the outward wall with their tails towards a large roller door, no doubt leading out into the Darklands jungle.

  Just as Jonah began to move he detected changes in the pitch of the noise filtering through the thick walls of the storage hanger. Loud male voices, bellowing instructions quieted the cries of the children and he heard the unmistakable sound of running boots approaching. This goaded Jonah into action.

  He guessed they had discovered the two guard’s bodies or at least discovered that the men were missing. Thinking fast, Jonah’s eyes flashed around the room looking for options. He had no doubt that at least some of them would be coming in to grab vehicles. More than anything, he needed one of those trucks.

  He desperately wanted to rescue Ray but against these odds he had no chance and Aymes needed help now. He hoped beyond hope that Ray would be safe. The fact that they had bothered to grab her and not just kill her indicated that she had some value to them.

  Jonah’s eyes locked on the baggage lockers on the side of the trucks. They were long, thin lockers that the passengers usually used to stow their bags or kit. Big enough for three or four big bags or one reasonably tall human.

  He dashed towards the first truck and flipped the latch on the locker. It opened easily. Jonah jumped in and lowered the lid down as slowly as he dared, plunging himself into darkness. Just as the lid closed the hanger side door banged opened and Jonah heard booted feet pounding towards the trucks. The truck rocked as the men jumped in making Jonah brace himself against the walls with his hands and feet. This was going to be a rough ride.

  The truck’s engines whined into life as the roller doors rumbled up into the ceiling and the vehicle accelerated, sending Jonah sliding down the locker. He absorbed the impact with his feet and silently congratulated himself on jumping into the locker the right way around. At the same moment, he hoped they had no reason to slam on the brakes suddenly.

  What followed was a sickening eternity of sudden swerves and bumps that catapulted Jonah painfully into the locker lid, and endless sliding into either end. By the time the vehicle slowed Jonah was feeling thoroughly ill and working hard not to throw up. He was glad he hadn’t eaten in a while or else he might not have been able to control the nausea.

  Just as the desperation to escape was becoming unbearable, the transport slowed and stopped. The locker rocked and recovered as somebody exited the vehicle. Dull footfalls on the mud road told Jonah that the passenger had exited which left just the driver. Hopefully no passengers had managed to make it into the back without Jonah detecting them. This was probably the best chance Jonah was going to get.

  A couple of deep breaths and Jonah had decided a course of action. He chose speed over stealth thinking that the locker hatch was probably visible in the driver mirrors and opening it was bound to get noticed. If that happened, he would need to subdue the driver quickly.

  He rolled himself onto his belly and grabbed the stolen shotgun in his right hand. He curled his knees underneath in preparation to spring. On a count of three he launched.

  The locker lid flew opened and he made to jump onto the driver’s footplate. The window was open, and Jonah saw the driver’s eyes widening in surprise, reflected in the rear-view mirror.

  The driver reacted far quicker than Jonah expected, slamming his foot down on the accelerator just as Jonah made to push of for his final leap. The result was he made no progress towards the driver window and had to grab wildly at the roof racks to stop himself tumbling backwards. He got a good hand hold but failed to see the whip like vines at the edge of the road as the driver swerved to wipe him off.

  Jonah turned his face at the last second and endured the lashing of the plants until the driver was forced back into the middle of the road by a large protruding tree root.

  Jonah had no choice but to drop the shotgun back into the locker and use both hands to haul himself onto the vehicle roof. Somehow, his assault rifle stayed slung around his shoulder. He braced himself, kneeling with his left hand on the roof and swung his rifle to fire from the hip, unloading into the roof of the cab estimating where the driver was.

  The transport careened madly into the next corner without braking and failed to make the bend. A mud bank greeted the front end with a deafening crunch, smashing out the headlight and slewing the truck sideways. The impact ripped Jonah free and he sailed over the bank rolling to a stop among a stand of silver ferns.

  He recovered immediately, regathering his weapon and springing back towards the vehicle, now wedged against the bank with its drive wheels spinning crazily on the wet road. He jumped down and sprinted around the back of the stranded truck, pellets of mud from the spinning wheels peppering him. He wrenched open the door and grabbed the collar of the very dead driver who lay face forward on the wheel.

  A large chunk of his face was missing, and a fair percentage of his brain dripped down the windscreen. Jonah hauled him onto the road, the squealing engine quieting immediately as the dead driver’s foot lifted off the accelerator.

  Jonah activated all his BE systems at once, the dark jungle flaring into a kaleidoscope of light and information as his enhanced vision kicked in. Immediately Jonah could feel a second man approaching fast up the road.

  The spike of fear Jonah felt, flagged the man as dangerous. He stopped suddenly, and Jonah reacted by diving and rolling to his right. Bullets clattered into the truck body behind him as he moved, his roll ending with him kneeling, facing the now bright red target, weapon in good position, tucked t
ightly against his cheek. His enhanced vision zoomed in on the target and showed a green reticle in the middle of his chest.

  A compact burst knocked the kneeling man back onto his heel. He dropped his weapon and clutched his chest, toppling sideways into the muddy road. Jonah rose and slid forward covering the downed man with the green reticle. When he got a clear shot, he put a round into the red sphere that represented the man’s head. His systems recognized a kill shot and the fear associated with the man vanished along with the red glow marking him as a target. The dead man faded to the same silvery hue as the rest of the road, as far as Jonah’s proximity systems were concerned he was just another undulation in the terrain.

  Jonah cast his awareness wide feeling nothing but gentle fluctuations in the magnetic fields around him. He forced his breathing to slow, calming himself and recovering. He spat into the mud to try and clear the metallic killing taste, strangely it was not as strong in the darkness where his enhanced vision didn’t display blood in the visceral red of daylight.

  Jonah walked back to the transport, pausing to extract the driver’s RFID from his hand. It would definitely work to start the truck. He climbed in and spent a minute or two cleaning the blood off the windscreen before backing carefully out and continuing up the road towards the pink of the Sunset Ring.

  His adrenaline levels were sinking, and he yawned, the exhaustion of heavy combat settling over him. He had felt it before many times and embraced it. His body rebounding from the frantic action, requesting recovery time.

  He allowed himself to relax into the undulation of the vehicle as he traversed the rutted road and let the hum and vibration of the motors take his mind away. The lone remaining headlight cast deep shadows in the bush that danced and wove crazily as he bumped along.

  He started to remember the aftermath of other battles, other times when he felt the lightness of having survived once again mixed with the sickness of killing and death. In his mind he saw a hint of blue and the vision of a young woman with short cropped red hair ahead on the road. He smiled to himself and wondered what it was he was remembering.

  With a start he realized he wasn’t remembering and the vision was actually there on the road. The light from the truck veered into the bush and woman disappeared for a moment. As he approached he slowed to train the lone headlight on the stumbling figure.

  She was dressed in a shapeless blue smock, spattered with what looked like blood. Her bare feet dragged on the road as she stumbled, attempting to run. Clearly exhausted she fell to her knees, falling forward onto her hands, head down. Jonah glided to a halt, the headlight illuminating a bright blue smock and shock of short red hair, contrasting starkly with her distended shadow stretching out towards the trees. Jonah opened the door and stepped down.

  “Ray?” he queried, forehead creasing in disbelief.

  CHAPTER 25

  White light trickled into Ray’s awareness an indeterminable period of time later. She was warm and comfortable and lying on something soft. She no longer smelled the forest. The humming that had been washing through her dream as she woke accompanied the gentle waft of warm conditioned air.

  Ray let her eyes drift open, still too stoned from the sedative to feel or understand much. She lay in a well-lit, spartan room in a hospital style cot. She discovered her hands were now unbound but her face and chin were sore. She touched fresh dressings on her facial wounds bringing back the memory of her capture.

  She sat up too quickly and had to flop back on the pillow to quiet her spinning head. She lay that way for a while, willing the nausea and disorientation to pass. Eventually she managed to swing her legs out of the bed and stagger painfully across to the small sink and toilet a few paces across the cramped room. The first she used to take a long drink out of the tap and the second she used to throw up into.

  Having not eaten since last night there was little but the water she had just drunk to come out. Sinking to the floor, she rested her face against the cold stainless steel of the toilet.

  Sometime later she woke again. She had slumped to the floor by the toilet where her face was stuck in a small puddle of her own drool. Feeling a little more alert she sat up, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

  She realized with a start that she had been changed into a hospital style shift. A quick check revealed she wore underwear. The relief was short lived, however, when she realized the underwear were new, clean, and CDSE issue. The cuts and scrapes on her hands and face stung and her ribs and abdomen ached. Probably from being carried for a period. Otherwise she was intact.

  A quick scan of the room revealed no windows or mirrors and a single door which she soon discovered was locked. The paneled ceiling was too high above to reach, even if she climbed onto the sink or bed so she rapidly abandoned any plan which involved climbing up into the roof space.

  “Nothing to do but wait,” she thought, forcing herself. to relax, conserve energy and heal as much as possible. She walked over to the sink, steadier on her feet, and took a more circumspect drink enjoying the clean water.

  Boredom settling in with the passing time Ray set to walking the room perimeter. Getting her muscles working again. She did a few press ups and sit ups to assess if she had lost any strength from the ordeal.

  She definitely needed a Haemo-Tab. They were all back at the last campsite with the rest of her gear. Her last one was almost forty-eight hours ago now and she was feeling the drop in exercise tolerance. She made a mental note to look out for some. They would be essential if she got a chance to run.

  An abrupt knock on the door announced new arrivals. A voice she didn’t recognize ask her to;

  “Move to the other side of the room and flush the toilet.” Ray did as she was ordered. At the sound of the flushing toilet the door swung open and two large, black clad CDSE men stepped quickly into the room, shutting the door immediately behind them. One bore a handful of what looked like thick leather belts.

  “Lie on the bed with your hands and feet against the rails,” he instructed, his face impassive.

  Ray’s eyes darted around. She had been too slow to catch on to the toilet flush thing and had been far too far from the door to try to run.

  “It’s locked,” the guard said noticing Ray’s eye-line. “There’s no handle in here. Someone else has to let us out.”

  He indicated the bed with his eyes. Ray sidled towards it. “Next time perhaps,” she thought to herself.

  As instructed, she lay down with wrists and ankles against the rails. The man used the shackles to secure her before his partner knocked on the inside of the door. The door opened, and a woman peeked around assessing the room and its occupants.

  “Well done,” she directed towards the two men, “you may leave us now. Leave the door open. We may go for a walk.”

  She entered and waited as the two guards shuffled out.

  “Shall we wait out here?” the first man inquired.

  The woman waved her hand. “If it makes you feel better,” she replied. “I’m sure we’ll be OK won’t we dear.” she looked back at Ray, smiled and patted her on the knee.

  Ray stared back at the strange woman. She estimated about mid-fifties, but it was difficult to tell. Her skin was soft and as pale as Earth’s moon but there were signs of crow’s feet around her eyes. She was similar in height to Ray or a little shorter. She wore a white lab coat and had faded mid length red hair cut in a functional bob. Her green eyes were clear and bright but her plumpness and a slight stoop to her walk testified to her aging. The woman looked at Ray as if expecting a response. Suddenly she slapped her hand to her forehead.

  “Oh, how stupid of me, of course, no lungs,” she cast her eyes around the room finally calling at the door. “Can one of please be a dear and grab me a communicator with a keypad. I forgot she can’t talk.”

  Guard one’s head appeared, “Yes ma’am,” he said crisply and headed back along the corridor.

  The woman turned back to Ray, “I’m so sorry, how embarrassing. Y
ou must think I’m a ditz. Well, while we wait I can bring you up to speed a little. I’m sure you have a million questions. I have quite a few for you too.”

  Ray frowned, too stunned to do much else. She looked down at her hands and jiggled the restraints. On tight.

  The woman noticed, “I’m sorry about those. I’m sure you will not need them after I have had a chance to explain.” The woman smiled at Ray pleasantly. Something about her was so familiar but Ray couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  Guard one arrived back around the corner with a data console which he handed to the woman.

  “Golly, that was quick,” She complimented, “Maybe we can start with your questions after all.” The woman placed the unit by Ray’s right hand and oriented the restraint, so she could type one handed. She sat Ray’s bed up and pulled up a chair for herself, so they were on eye level with one another.

  “You first then, “she encouraged smiling warmly.

  Suddenly Ray couldn’t think where to start. Finally, she simply typed “Who?”

  “Who am I?” the woman exclaimed putting her hand to her chest. “Did I not say? I’m Astrid Copeland.”

  Suddenly Ray knew where she’d seen her. She was the head scientists of the genetics program that had designed Dianians. Ray had seen pictures of her growing up during lessons in school. Complete with the short bob and white coat.

  Ray frowned deeper still and typed “Impossible.”

  Astrid laughed lightly, “Impossible because that would make me two hundred and fifty years old?”

  Ray nodded.

  “Yes, I guess that does seem unlikely. I suppose I should be more specific. I am not the original Astrid Copeland. I am an exact copy. In fact, I am one of five exact copies. The other four are on Earth overseeing other projects. I wanted one of me sent here to perfect what I had begun with the Dianians. I have been alive for fifty-four Earth years and I have lived here for half of that.”