by Paul Anlee
Mary was slowly recovering her breath. “I’m keeping you two back. You need to move as fast as you can. I’ll catch up later.”
“No, we can wait. Trillian has no idea where we’re heading. He thinks we’re moving deeper into the jungle; I’m sure he’s planning to head us off. But we’re moving laterally; we’ll be past his line of people on the beach after our next dash.”
Darya assessed her options. The few real people she’d seen since materializing in Vacationland all seemed to be in a panic. Only the Partials seemed calm, and many of them had already become Trillian clones. That’s it! Maybe if we can….
She disguised her identity and opened a channel to the Vacationland Supervisor. Trillian’s taking over the Partials as clones. We should be able to create a few of our own for misdirection.
She shared her plan with her companions. “I can clone each of us into a few Partials and send them out to misleading target destinations all over the place to distract the Trillians from the real us. I just need your permission to copy a persona fragment.”
Mary instantly gave Darya access to her physical parameters and an isolated persona fragment. Timothy looked at the two of them blankly. “What do I do?”
Even in the pouring rain and with Trillian bearing down on them, Darya had to laugh.
“Here, permit me,” she said and dove directly into Timothy’s persona to get what she needed. Not surprising in one so freshly minted, she found nothing but the most basic of security routines protecting his essential being. As she left, she installed versions of her own anti-corruption protection in his concepta.
“Oh, okay. Now I see.” Timothy’s eyes brightened with the information Darya left behind. “Thank you,” he said, but then his eyes clouded over as he realized the implications of Darya’s tinkering. Things he believed and thought he knew were subject to outside intervention. He felt the truth of what Mary and Darya had said: his very essence was merely “software”.
Taking over Partials up and down the beach, Darya set up five groups of clones in seconds. Wow! However he did it, Trillian’s intervention has made the Supervisor unusually compliant!
She assigned each group a different route and set them free to run. That should keep the Trillians busy for a while!
“Hopefully, that’ll buy us a bit of time.”
Mary noticed Timothy’s face; he was obviously put off balance by the cloning process. “Welcome to the world of Cybrids,” she chuckled, intentionally lightheartedly. “Don’t worry. No one else will ever be able to do something like that to you again, except with your explicit permission. Right, Darya?” She looked pointedly at her long-time friend, mentor, and co-conspirator.
Darya thought guiltily about the belief-virus she’d programmed, the one she’d used to infect the conceptas of millions. The greater good is truly a pain in the butt sometimes—she thought.
She disliked manipulating her friends, even those she barely knew. But the fate of the universe was a concern that overrode her usual ethics. Life is so much simpler when you don’t really know what’s going on—she reminded herself.
She smiled reassuringly and said, “No, of course not. You now have the best protection available. Your integrity will never be breached again.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth before dozens of the Trillians stationed along the beach broke ranks and hurried to check out various sightings of the clones.
Over the howl of the wind, the trio could make out the excited shouts, “Over here,” and, “I see them!”
Darya helped Mary to her feet. “Let’s just keep a steady pace. No need to run. And we should spread out a few meters apart. It’ll make us harder to spot. It won’t take Trillian long to figure out that we’ve made our own clones.”
“Mary,” she suggested, “you stay closest to the jungle and a little ahead of the group. Timothy, you continue on the current path but let Mary get a good 20 meters ahead of you. I’ll fall back another 20-30 meters and keep to the outer edges where the bushes meet the sand. The shed’s only about half a kilometer away now. Let’s keep moving. I should be able to keep an eye on the beachside Trillians from the rear without being seen.”
They could see the cabins and service shed in the large complex 500 meters ahead. Darya hoped the Servitors had left the buildings to join the search along the beach. She preferred stealth over aggression, but she’d fight if she had to.
Thunder crashed around them as they broke away from the protection of the lush jungle and walked briskly across the grass toward the complex.
Mary and Timothy reached the first large cabina. They crouched low and tight against the rustic-looking wall, minimally sheltered by the inadequate eaves.
“If we get out of this I’m never coming back here again,” yelled Mary over the crashing thunder.
“You told me this was a nice place,” Timothy huffed.
Darya stared back, speechless, until all three broke into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. The relief was energizing. “Come on,” she said, directing them along the wall of the building.
Now that they couldn’t be seen from the beach they felt a little more secure. Still, they couldn’t afford to be careless. Trillian would not be easily evaded. His clones were popping up everywhere, and the number was growing by the minute.
The service shed, their only hope for getting out of Vacationland and back to their trueselves, came into view on the other end of an enormous swimming area made of interconnecting lagoons. A swim-up bar joined two parts of the nearest pool.
Normally, the pools would be filled with raucous sound of families playing, but it was empty today. The water looked cold and the wind whipped up little whitecaps.
Lacking orders from the Supervisor, four Partial staff huddled under the protection of the thatched roof of the bar. They hadn’t been converted into Trillians yet but there was no easy way to reach the shed without passing within view of them.
“Shall we make a run for it or would you rather skirt around to the other side of the complex?” Darya asked her friends.
Timothy surveyed the layout of the buildings without comment. “Listen,” said Mary, “this poor choice of a body is exhausted. I might have enough in me for one more dash but the longer we go, the more tired I get. I say we run for it.”
Timothy looked as if he wanted to object, but pressed his quivering lips together and nodded.
“Right. Let’s do it. I’ll start running around the beachside of the pool. If there are any Trillians lurking around, I should be able to draw them out and away. You two wait fifteen seconds and then start walking around this side. Go quickly and confidently, but don’t run unless you’re spotted.
Inside the shed to the right, you’ll find a light switch. Flick the lights on and off quickly, three times in a row, and you’ll be taken to the broadcast control room. Mary can get you to your bodies from there.”
“What about you?” Mary asked.
Darya looked grim. “With any luck, I’ll be there before you. If anyone tries to stop me, I may be delayed a little while I take care of them.” With that, she bolted.
She got about two-thirds of the way around the first pool, when a Trillian stepped out from the jungle skirting the complex, not too far from where Mary and Timothy stood waiting. He assessed the situation: Darya running on one side, and the other two about to make their own dash.
The Trillian closed his eyes, and bartenders and waiters changed into determined-looking clones. Two more emerged from the kitchen brandishing large butcher knives. All six charged at the now-sprinting Darya.
Mary and Timothy took off past the Trillian, hoping to reach the shed before he opened his eyes and realized they were gone.
His conversion of the waiters complete, Trillian lunged for Mary as she ran past. “I wish you’d stay a while longer,” he said, spinning her around with an iron grip on one wrist.
Timothy jerked to a halt and wheeled. He couldn’t just leave Mary there. She was spent, and Tri
llian was no easy foe. Living by the gentleman’s code, he had no choice but to respond to a lady in distress. He screamed and charged, tackling their adversary below the waist.
The force drove Trillian backward, and he let go of Mary to deal with the butler. Somehow, he managed to stay on his feet. The two men wrestled, but Trillian was stronger and more skilled.
“You should’ve stayed in DonTon where you belong, Partial,” he sneered, pinning Timothy face to the ground.
On the far side of the pool, the other Trillians clashed with Darya. The princess dropped to her knees at full steam, slid below the blows of the two leading clones, and pulled their legs out from under them as she passed. The two went down hard and fast, smacking face-first into the cement apron of the pool. Another pair of clones reached out to pin her arms, while the pair holding knives caught up and moved in.
Darya writhed furiously. The Trillians holding her arms struggled to maintain their grip. She caught the man on her right in a scissors grip with her legs and pulled down on his head with everything she had. The clone flipped head-over-heels right into the two with knives.
The second clone maintained his grip on her wrist. Darya sprang to her feet, but the Trillian held fast. She leaped upward, extending to the full length of the arm he still held and delivered a powerful spinning kick to his head. The clone released her and fell into the pool either unconscious or dead, she didn’t care which.
Only three more Trillians stood between her and the shed. The two with knives that had landed in a heap when she flung their comrade into them were already on their feet again and advancing. The armed men approached her first, while the unarmed clone circled behind her.
One of the knife-wielding clones slashed at her wildly, but this Trillian had little skill in hand-to-hand combat. Amateur—she laughed as she dodged his swipe.
Ooph! The crushing attack from behind knocked the cockiness off her face and the wind out of her lungs in one blow. Darya planted her feet and slackened her knees to absorb the blow.
The Trillian threw a bear hug around her, pinning her arms tight. He growled as he yanked her feet off the ground, exposing her belly to the incoming knives.
Bracing herself against him, Darya kicked upward hard and sent the pair of blades tumbling through the air. The momentum of the advancing Trillians brought the approaching clones within reach. She cocked her legs again and snapped powerful heel kicks at their noses. They fell back, and didn’t get up.
The force of her kicks drove the clone holding her off balance and he toppled backward, with Darya still in his clutches. She slammed her head back into his face, and the two hit the pool deck together with a single thud.
Air whooshed out of the clone’s lungs and he let go of Darya. She rolled away and sprang to a crouch. The clone had no more fight in him. Blood seeped from the back of his head onto the decorative rock, and his glazed eyes stared into space.
Darya tore her eyes away and scouted the path to the shed. A loud splash from across the pool caught her attention. The Trillian there, caught up in his struggle with Timothy, had grossly underestimated Mary’s strength and resolve. He looked up from the pinned butler just as Mary flew into him. The tackle knocked him off Timothy, but sent her and the clone careening into the pool. She was still gripping his jacket in unbridled rage when they hit the water.
“No! Mary!” cried Darya.
The Trillian rolled as he landed in the water, and found his footing before Mary recovered hers. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her under.
Timothy struggled to his feet. His eyes went to the pair struggling in the water. Mary surfaced, sputtering. He got two steps toward the pool before she saw him. Her eyes went wide.
“Timothy, run! Get to the shed,” Mary ordered. He hesitated, his eyes flicking agonizingly back and forth between her face and Trillian’s. Before he could jump, seven more clones burst from the jungle behind him and rushed forward.
“Get out of here,” Mary ordered, “Go!” There was nothing he could do for her.
“You can’t help her,” Darya shouted, “Run! Now!”
Timothy turned and ran for the service shed as fast as he could.
Trillian smiled and pushed Mary underwater again. A dozen more clones ran out of the kitchen, brandishing knives and charged toward Darya. It was hopeless. I’m sorry Mary!
Darya reached the flimsy wooden shed door and kicked it open. Timothy almost collided into her. She pushed him through the doorway ahead of her, stepped inside, and flicked the light switch three times.
* * *
The raging storm was gone. Darya and Timothy were surrounded by monitors, gauges, and buttons in some kind of control room. Instrumentation buzzed, hummed and flickered. Darya reached past Timothy and pushed a button in the middle of one panel.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Now we can’t be followed.” She scanned monitors, pushed buttons, set dials, and tweaked sliders without a word. Satisfied with the adjustments, she placed both hands on the control console and hung her head. Quiet sobs rose from her trembling frame.
Timothy didn’t know what to do. He made an awkward move toward her but she shook her head angrily: Back off. He could do nothing but watch as the sobs grew into great cries that wracked her body. Her long, dark tangles hung down, dripping rainwater onto the edge of the console.
It didn’t last more than a minute. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “She was my best friend. More than a friend. How can such weak words describe someone you’ve known for millions of years? We did everything inworld together; she was like a sister to me. We worked so hard on trying to slow Alum down.” She shook her head and almost burst into tears again.
“Goodbye for now, Mary,” she whispered. “If you survive, I’ll find you,” she promised. She pulled herself upright and pushed her hair, still dripping, over her shoulders. She made a few more adjustments at the console and a blue cylindrical beam the width of a person’s shoulders appeared at the edge of the chamber.
“That is freedom,” she said to Timothy. “I’ve set this to broadcast you out of here, but the location code is Gerhardt’s body. Once you’re conscious again, don’t move, don’t do anything, don’t try anything until I get there to help you. Being in a body for the first time won’t come naturally. You don’t have the concepta routines for it, so wait for me. You got that? Wait for me.”
“Very well. You want me to wait?” Timothy asked, a little peeved.
“Sorry,” Darya apologized. “It’s just…this is important. It might take me a while to get to you; I want you to play dead until I arrive.”
“How will I recognize you? What do you look like as a Cybrid?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll come visit you inside your concept-space. I’ll look and sound the same as here.” She extended her arms and shook them off; water sprayed in all directions and added to the small puddles at their feet. “Well, I hope to be drier. But I’ll be the ‘me’ that you’ve known since New York.”
“So what do I do now?”
“Step into the blue beam. It’ll take you to your new body. I’ll reset the controls and go to mine. I can sneak both of us out of the recharging stations and back to my lab at Secondus. We’ll be safe there until I can figure out what to do next.”
Timothy waited for her to add something, further instructions, some lame encouragement. Anything. Darya looked over at the beam. He stood rooted for a few seconds, but her gaze held steady.
Very well, then—he conceded and walked into the blue light.
Darya watched his inworld presence dissolve, reset the controls, and walked into the blue beam herself. Whatever awaited her outworld, it would be good to be back in a real body.
47
For Jeff Junior, the End began when Alum received a phone call from the scientists in Vancouver.
They’d been chatting in the study when the telephone rang. Alum picked up and, without so much as a greeting, listened in silence to
the excited voices at the other end of the call.
“I see. Thank you. I’ll be there soon,” was all he said, and he hung up. With no further explanation, he asked Junior to scramble the security and flight teams, and prepare the private plane for immediate departure to Vancouver.
Only once they were settled in the comfort and privacy of the executive cabin did Alum confide in Junior, revealing all he knew about the Eater. “All” turned out to be frightfully little.
Once he got over the shock, Jeff Jr. felt privileged to be included. Only a small number of individuals worldwide knew that the planet-ending threat Alum referenced in his sermons was a real and impending physical danger, not some vague biblical prophecy.
On arriving at SFU, they met Greg and Kathy at the east entrance of the Academic Quadrangle. Neither Alum nor Jeff Junior had visited the award-winning campus, and the scientists paused in the shade of the structure so they could all appreciate, if only for a moment, the peacefulness of the reflecting pool, grass, and trees in the central green space. It was a perfect June day.
After some light chitchat about their trip, the two scientists ushered the visitors along the sheltered perimeter to one of the many stairwells incorporated in the columns that supported the top three stories of the complex.
Inside, they wound their way down through a confusing maze of multi-level corridors leading to the subterranean levels and an instrumentation area cryptically labeled, “RAF Characterization Laboratory.”
One entire wall of the lab consisted of a section of the enormous spherical vacuum chamber.
It looks more like a machine room than a lab, at least according to any sci-fi movie I’ve ever seen—Junior thought. He was not impressed.
Besides one segment of the gigantic storage tank, the room contained an old disassembled laser setup and a desk with a laptop.
Where are all the instruments?—he wondered.
“….we’ve been thinking about this all wrong,” Dr. Mahajani had been saying.
Greg—Junior reminded himself. The pair were awfully informal for two lead scientists. Too familiar. Unprofessional. Junior didn’t like it.