Isonation

by In Churl Yo

  He accessed his cufflink. The display showed no server activity, which didn’t make any sense—but then what in this crazy simulation did? Milton’s interface and desktop were both working fine, and a systems diagnostic revealed no problems with either his visor or cufflink. Either they didn’t want him to access the program running this level or there was no program to access, which, again, made little sense. One thing seemed clear—he wasn’t going to hack his way out of this one.

  A quick peek around the corner gave Milton a fleeting image of the heel of a military boot disappearing at the far edge of the next intersection—his opponent was close and on the move. Milton pulled his pistol out and followed as fast as he dared. The hall soon gave way to a large oval-shaped room made up of angled panels—at its center was Neema tied to the same chair as before, only now she sat motionless, her head tilted down in a way that bothered him. Milton advanced, his weapon up and ready to fire.

  She’d been beaten, her face a swollen bloody mess. The ropes had burned deep into Neema’s wrists from struggling. He touched her shoulder, and she moaned quietly.

  Still alive.

  Then the panel three meters in front of Milton came to life, an image of the military man appearing on the glass. It repeated across every panel in the room, and he found himself surrounded by dozens of life-sized digital copies of his opponent, each smiling at him.

  “Your final challenge,” the doppelgängers all said together, “is to finish this scenario, if you can.” His amplified voice was gruff, low, without emotion. “Can you keep your friend from succumbing to my blade?” He pulled a carbon-steel combat knife from behind his back and waved it around.

  “You better believe it,” Milton replied.

  “The rules are simple: if I kill her, you lose. If you kill the right target, you win. There are so many potential outcomes to our little game, but know that the wrong death doesn’t just forfeit the win in here, if you get my meaning.”

  “What are you talking about? We’re in the Virt. Nobody dies today.”

  “You’re sure about that, are you?”

  The possibility hadn’t occurred to Milton. At any point, he could have been sedated, his memory wiped. These could all just as easily be holographic projections made in the real world versus a virtual one. If that’s the case, then this could really be Neema next to him, hurt and in desperate need of medical attention soon, and he could be fighting to save both of their lives. Then again it could just as easily be a lie, and a sadistic one at that.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” the mercenary continued. “I know you only have one bullet. So, the trick is, which one are you going to shoot?” The man laughed, then his image stepped out of the panel and came to life in front of Milton in three dimensions. The rest of the clones followed suit, and now Milton was surrounded by more than 20 identical men, each one armed with a blade, each one moving of their own volition. “The game ends when the right one dies,” they all said together. “So, bright boy, which one is the right one, eh?”

  Milton moved in a circle around Neema, walking a slow perimeter while taking careful aim at each target as the barrel of his gun passed them by. He knew immediately he was in trouble. They all looked identical—from their breathing to the realistic shadows they cast on the floor—and nothing about them betrayed who the real one was among the phonies. To Milton’s senses, every man had substance; each one seethed with genuine menace. Once they came for Neema, it wouldn’t be long before he’d have to decide—an impossible task.

  Then he had a thought: If I can’t hack the program, maybe I can hack the problem instead. After all, coding was about creativity and logic, and this was supposed to be a test of his skill. There had to be a solution here somewhere. But if this was a character test, a Kobayashi Maru, then there was no winning it, and Milton was doomed to failure.

  “Let Neema go. We can do this without her.”

  “That would take all the fun out of it,” the mercenaries all said in unison, a maniacal grin plastered on every face, “and you don’t really want that.”

  “What if I decide not to play?”

  The men all stopped to look at each other, some shrugging their shoulders and others shaking their heads in exasperation. “Then you lose,” they answered. “Like the loser we knew you were all along.”

  Milton closed his eyes to work the problem. He analyzed potential outcomes, following every logic tree result he could think of to their conclusion. It was all zeroes and ones, pluses and minuses, and cold data wouldn’t compromise, lie or hesitate. To Milton, programing was the truest of all languages, spoken with more elegance than simple mathematics in a way that could never be misinterpreted or perverted. Hacking was poetry to him, righteous and good—his weapon against a world gone wrong, and in his hands more powerful to him than words or stones. If anything, today proved that to Milton beyond any doubt. Now he had to trust the result.

  “Time’s up,” the military men chimed and started their advance, blades twirling and cold steel catching light. Milton strengthened his resolve and took a last deep breath, pushing the uncertainty as far away from his mind as he could.

  Then he swung the pistol around and shot Neema in the chest at point-blank range, killing her instantly.

  CHAPTER 25

  Caleb cut the ropes he had bound around Ogden’s wrists and spun the CEO to face him. “Come with me,” he said and pushed the annoyed Ceres executive out of his chair and toward the front of the stealth drone. “Move faster. We’re almost out of time.”

  When they reached the cockpit, Ogden found Nox at the co-pilot position and the girl in control of the ship and couldn’t decide which he was more annoyed with at that moment. “What’s this about?” he asked.

  The man with white hair turned and shot an irritated look at him, jutting a finger to his lips for quiet before toggling the transmitter back on.

  “Repeat, this is Ceres Q36 Echo Sierra Mike,” Nox said, “requesting a code 14 landing. Over.” The overhead speaker responded with static noise.

  “Code 14? Where are we?”

  “You know where we are, Ogden,” Nox replied. “And if we don’t supply them with the proper authorization key, you know what’s going to happen.”

  “You’re bluffing. A trick or some other deception.”

  “You willing to risk your life on that?” Caleb said.

  “I’ve never been here before. I don’t have any key.”

  “Who’s bluffing now?” Zoah asked, still watching the sky ahead of them for signs of trouble.

  “I won’t be intimidated, young lady. If we were in New Mexico, if we were somehow inside the perimeter line, then we would already be dead.”

  “They know our ship’s registration and what a code 14 request means,” said Nox. “The reason they haven’t blown us out of the sky yet is that they’re running it up the chain of command.”

  “Blow us up then,” Ogden said. “This charade is over.”

  The stealth drone followed the contour of rock formations that rose from the desert, narrowly avoiding a cantilevered mesa that appeared in their flight path. Small plumes of dust and rock spun into the air as hot wind drove through turbines pressed for speed. Zoah had the ship flying low and fast hoping to confuse any laser targeting systems trying to get a fix on them.

  “And the conspiracy? The inventory and shipping discrepancies?” Nox asked. “Someone’s been running a massive project with your resources right under your nose—someone that’s appropriated a portion of your company without your knowledge or consent. You know the answers are down there.”

  “Not to mention that we should really avoid that whole being blown up thing,” added Zoah. “If we can.”

  Then the co-pilot’s control panel lit up—a series of blinking lights accompanied by urgent electronic noises danced across the displays. “We’ve got multiple target locks,” Nox warned. “Take her lower.”

  Zoah threw a look of disbelief at him then nodded her head and
pushed the yoke forward. The ship skirted low across the landscape, shaving cactus and juniper trees in their wake and just avoiding a cluster of large boulders. “This isn’t going to work. We’re exposed out here,” she said.

  The white-haired man shot Ogden a look. “Sir, I’d say we have 20 seconds before those missiles launch. Maybe now would be a good time to enter the damn key code!”

  The CEO’s eyes darted from the radar screen back to Nox—then he cursed and ran to a terminal and began punching commands into the system. A few seconds later, the alarms ceased their clamoring.

  “You had no idea whether my code would work, did you?” said Ogden.

  Nox grinned. “Oh, we had some idea. We hoped your key would be enough to get us in.”

  “And now? You can’t very well tie me back up. They’re expecting to see me when we arrive.”

  “That is a problem, but it doesn’t have to be. We both want the same thing—the truth. If we worked together, it’s reasonable to assume we could find it somewhere inside that complex. We steal the data, share the data, and get out. Once we’re airborne, we split up and never have to see each other ever again.”

  “Agreed,” Ogden replied. “I find your offer acceptable.”

  “Just like that?” said Caleb.

  “I make hundreds of decisions a day that impact the lives of every person on the planet. This is no different.”

  “It’s the plan we’re going with,” Nox said. “We’re out of time and options.”

  “Yeah, well, your plan sucks, and I don’t trust either of you,” Caleb replied. “But we’re committed now—not like I have anything better to do.”

  “I’m turning the ship for approach,” Zoah announced. “We should be on the ground in a couple of minutes.”

  After kilometers of hilly terrain, the desert soon leveled out into a wide, flat valley. In the distance, a series of fences stretched across their view, marking the boundaries of a vast complex made up of squat concrete buildings, hangars and asphalt roadways that stretched far into the surrounding scrubland. Zoah followed the markings to a loading zone at the end of the far terminal and took the drone in for a soft landing. A trio of military vehicles rolled in, spilling men and women in Ceres combat uniforms around the ship’s doorway as it opened and lowered to the ground.

  Ogden paused at the threshold and looked down at the dozen gun barrels and pairs of eyes directed at him and gave them all a half smile before stepping onto the tarmac.

  “That’s far enough, sir. I’ll need your answer to my code word.”

  “I’m listening,” Ogden replied, hands raised.

  “Telluride.”

  “Very good. I believe the response is Sasquatch.”

  The platoon captain gave the signal for his men to stand down, then approached the CEO. “We were told you might be in distress.”

  “Well, that remains to be seen,” said Ogden. “Nox?”

  The man with white hair stepped out of the stealth drone and joined them, followed by the rest. Heelo floated out and took a defensive position near Zoah, his sensors focused on the soldiers around them.

  “Relax, we’re unarmed, captain,” Nox announced. “And our distress is with this ship. There’s some feedback in the avionics that seems to be giving us a few false readings. It’s why we landed out here in the middle of nowhere. Sorry for the trouble.”

  The captain nodded, his eyes still trained on Ogden. “We can help with that,” he said, then came a half-step closer to the Ceres executive. His voice was just above a whisper when he added: “Is that all you need, sir?”

  Ogden considered his question. “Well, I suppose you could take these people into custody—quickly if you please, captain.”

  The soldier un-holstered his sidearm in a flash and leveled it at Nox’s head.

  “Not him. He’s fine.”

  “Not for long,” Caleb said loud enough for the white-haired man to hear. A rifle jab in his back kept him from making good on his threat. The guards had him and Zoah lined up and on their knees with their fingers locked behind their heads. “You want to tell us what a Code 14 is?”

  Nox returned Caleb’s glare with a weak smile and answered his question. “Hostage situation.”

  “We trusted you,” said Zoah.

  “That was a mistake,” Ogden said, “but one you could not have foreseen. You see, Nox and I have considered every contingency—after all, preparation is the key to readiness—and while his plans can be complex and somewhat volatile, he has always been my best man. Now, captain, tell me: Where’s the person in charge of this facility?”

  “Command center,” he responded.

  “Show us, please.”

  “What about the prisoners?” the officer asked.

  The CEO pivoted back and regarded them for a moment. “Bring them along. They could still prove useful.”

  “Wait, before we go there’s one more thing I need to take care of,” said Nox. “Your sidearm, captain?”

  The soldier looked down at Nox’s hand, then turned his eyes toward Ogden, who slowly nodded his authorization. The man with white hair took the pistol and immediately aimed it at Caleb’s head.

  Caleb didn’t blink.

  “No! Don’t!” Zoah cried. The guards held her down as she squirmed to intervene.

  Nox’s eyes darted sideways for a moment before the gun fired, the shot echoing across the desert valley, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing clearly at the end. Heelo spun wildly in the air from the bullet’s impact, then clattered onto the blacktop, broken and dead. Zoah continued her crying when she realized what Nox had done. “Heelo!”

  Caleb looked back at the damaged toy drone and then at Nox. “You aim a weapon at me, you best not miss. Big mistake not taking the shot,” he said, “because now I’m going to have to kill you.”

  “Well…I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try,” Nox replied.

  “Are you finished?” Ogden asked his head of security. Nox nodded, then fell in step behind the CEO as they headed to the command center. The soldiers prodded Zoah and Caleb to follow.

  They stepped across the asphalt toward a long, corrugated metal building with a curved roof and a door with a single light overhead. Inside, a constant low rattle in the background hummed as the air conditioner fought to keep the heat at bay—a battle it routinely lost. The group descended two flights of stairs and through a sentry post before arriving at a large service elevator. Its slow motor and shaky ride made the journey feel longer than it was, but to Zoah it felt like they were kilometers below ground. When the doors opened, they were ushered down a long hallway, through another set of guards and then into a large room with a wall full of displays and rows of manned stations all busy with work.

  The captain led them up a set of stairs in the back to a large glass-walled office then announced their arrival to the man sitting behind the desk: “Sir, Ceres Chief Executive Officer Theodore Ogden. Mr. Ogden, this is Colonel…”

  “Get out,” Ogden interrupted.

  “The hell you say,” said the colonel. “You don’t have the authority…”

  “I do, and don’t pretend otherwise, Colonel. The Ceres Corporation is the closest thing to a government the world has left, and while you may answer to your Commander in Chief, the President and every other leader left on this godforsaken planet serves entirely at my pleasure. Don’t mistake your rank insignia as a totem of any kind of power. I would hate to show you what real power looks like in front of your subordinates. This base is a Ceres facility. I own it. Now get out. Oh, and feel free to verify what I’ve said to whatever chain of command you wish. I promise you will only find disappointment.”

  The colonel glanced at the captain and his men, weighed their loyalty to him versus Ogden and came to an uncertain conclusion before marching out of the room. “This isn’t over,” he said over his shoulder, the last word barely out of his mouth before the glass doorway sealed shut behind him.

  “Nox?” asked Ogden in a way that so
unded like an order.

  The man with white hair stepped behind the desk and raised his hands over the desktop to activate the user interface. A faint glow illuminated the space in front of him and a virtual display came into focus. Nox motioned with his fingers and drilled down into the colonel’s files and soon gave a low whistle.

  “What is it? What did you find?”

  “Well, sir, I haven’t been able to corroborate the findings implicating a cover-up, but I did discover the purpose of this base. It’s a port.”

  “A port. What kind of port?”

  “It’s not the port you’ll find interesting. It’s the ships.”

  Ogden joined Nox at the terminal for a better look at the files. “Yes, I see what you mean. Captain, when is the next departure scheduled to occur?”

  “At nineteen hundred, sir. Six hours from now.”

  The CEO stared at his head of security, and Nox understood the meaning of the look and nodded in response.

  “In the meantime, then, let the young woman work,” Ogden said. “Perhaps she can find the files we’re looking for.”

  Caleb stepped forward to object, but Zoah put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Let me do this. It’s why we came here, after all,” she said, then sat in the colonel’s chair and took a deep breath. Nox had already put her into the inventory system.

  She started digging. The files weren’t hidden. They weren’t even encrypted. They were right here for all the world to see, assuming you could get to this work station inside the base commander’s office housed within a remote, protected base that nobody anywhere knew anything about.

  Without Heelo, Zoah didn’t have access to Milton’s database to corroborate what she was looking at, but she could remember bits and pieces—the odd requisition for a piece of rare equipment, a few dates and places. A picture was beginning to form.