The Justar Journal: An AOI Thriller

by Brandt Legg

  Her eyes seemed to have all of the answers. At that moment, he felt that if he could just keep looking into them instead of all the VMs, he would know how to do what had to be done.

  “I’m drawing on everything I have,” he said, staring into her unblinking eyes. “I can do this.”

  “I believe you.”

  He nodded, silently thanking her. Then, after another moment of absorbing the wisdom from her irises, he whispered, “We have to go.”

  Nelson had come back for Munna and witnessed the scene between her and Deuce. It was at that moment that he finally knew for sure that Deuce could be trusted. Chelle needed to know. He’d also heard Deuce’s explanation about the books and passed it on to Grandyn. The two of them cared most about the remnants of the Portland Library, for different reasons that went beyond the prophecies.

  Grandyn, Fye, and Twain were on one boat being piloted by one of the BLAXERs who’d helped load the books. The other BLAXER captained the second boat with Deuce, Munna, and Nelson. These were small pleasure boats meant to ferry people between Runit and Ryder Islands. There were bigger boats at Ryder’s dock, but they were easier targets and no faster.

  The plan was to rendezvous with the faster boat that Deuce had ordered earlier for Twain. In order to avoid the expected trouble on the islands, Deuce had it slightly rerouted, and they should catch up to it in about twenty minutes if all went well.

  They were less than six hundred meters from, and still well within sight of, the shore of Runit Island, when the sky filled with soldiers parachuting onto both islands.

  Chapter 23 - Book 3

  The main yard of Hilton Prison looked like an exaggerated war zone. Streaming smoke, bursting explosions, lasers flying, and people running everywhere. Amidst the chaos, Drast looked up and saw a friendly face he never expected, Osc.

  “Evren, you made it out!” he shouted as he approached.

  “I made it this far anyway.”

  “Follow me.” Osc never stopped moving. He was in full riot gear; Tekfabrik and impenetrable materials. He tossed Drast a small gas mask.

  Drast was never sure if Osc had known Terik’s real identity as Grandyn back when he was getting him in to visit Drast. Osc and Terik had been friends in the AOI Academy, and that may have been the only reason he broke rules for him. If that was the case, then Osc wasn’t a revolutionary, and would have no reason to help Drast.

  He could be leading me straight back to a cell, straight to the executioner’s chamber, Drast thought. Surely he now knows that Terik was Grandyn, and that he could be implicated in the investigation.

  Drast was already following Osc. He didn’t have time to think, and he sure didn’t have many alternatives. “Where are we going?” Drast shouted as he put on the mask.

  “To the real outside,” Osc shouted back.

  Drast tried to get his bearings, but everything seemed backwards or upside down. A stocky man ran into him. Drast recognized the inmate, but it wasn’t one of his team. The guy hardly slowed, and before he was a meter away, his head was sliced off by a long-range laser, probably from one of the towers. Osc turned and suddenly grabbed Drast, shoving him into a wall.

  “Damn it, that’s my face you torg!”

  “Shut up Drast. There’s a troop of guards coming. If it doesn’t look like I’ve got you in custody then we’re both dead!” He loosely cuffed Drast’s wrists behind his back. “If you twist your hands right you should be able to get out of them. Now come on, let’s go. And don’t look happy.”

  “That won’t be hard,” Drast said as Osc pulled him roughly around and began pushing him in the direction they’d been headed.

  A few seconds later they passed the troop, who were brandishing laser-clubs, electro-pipes, and other lethal weapons, which they were using without the slightest provocation or hesitation on every inmate they saw. A few of them looked at Drast. They recognized Osc and knew why he was bothering with a single inmate. Everyone knew Evren was due to be executed in the morning and, riot or not, the AOI liked its executions to go off as planned. Drast was sure that at least a few of the passing grunges were wondering why wait, just do him now. But if they had those thoughts they would have had to have been fleeting, as the whole prison was in siege.

  They pushed through a door using some kind of emergency key, as the power had been cut. Just as they got inside, Mite’s wall blew. They were showered in glass, as the reinforced, bulletproof windows couldn’t resist the power of the blast. Right after the explosion, an endless wall of smoke rushed over them, and was sucked out of the building as the windows allowed outside air.

  “Are you all right?” Osc asked.

  Drast was covered in blood, but didn’t feel any serious injuries, just what felt like a hundred cuts. Osc dragged him to his feet. He’d been completely protected by his uniform, helmet, and shield. Drast’s gas mask was cracked and useless, but without his hands he couldn’t get it off. A maze of dark corridors of fire and dead bodies, none of which there was time to recognize, led them to a clear corridor and a door Drast had never seen.

  “This is one of our fallbacks. All AOI prisons have tunnels, safe rooms, fallback halls, and emergency exits in case of riots or attacks,” Osc said as he ripped off Drast’s broken mask and they pushed ahead.

  Drast suddenly thought of the other prisons probably rioting at this very moment. The uprisings had all been coordinated as best they could in order to tax the AOI and not give the agency a chance to respond with extra forces. Now he worried they might all fail. He hadn’t known about the secret tunnels, safe rooms, and the rest of it. The AOI could respond much better than he’d anticipated.

  What if the whole war is like that? Drast thought. What if we’ve actually underestimated them?

  He had to remind himself that he’d been head of the Pacyfik region. He knew about the AOI, knew things the Chief didn’t know. “Has the war started?” he shouted to Osc.

  “Did you see that yard back there?” Osc asked without expecting an answer. “There are at least two dozen cities that look just like it!”

  Drast stopped. Most of his adult life had been working toward the revolution, and part of him had never believed it would actually come. There’d been days when he moved through his daily activities as a high-powered member of the Aylantik and found the world to be a wonderful place. They had created something truly remarkable. A peaceful planet where everyone was happy, healthy, and fed. The feat was unparalleled in all of human history. On those days, and in the quiet of most mornings, he questioned whether revolution was the correct course. Now, picturing those cities in flames and rubble, he second-guessed again.

  What if the Aylantik and the AOI are the good guys? What if I’m the villain?

  “Damn it, come on Evren!” Osc said, tugging him forcefully along. Seconds later, they burst back into the daylight. Two hundred meters ahead the ocean churned as if taking part in the uprising. The winds carried the smoke from the yard across their view, but there was no action here.

  “What now?” Drast asked.

  Osc pointed into the distance. “I do believe that’s your ride.”

  Drast looked up and could just make out a black dot in the sky moving toward them.

  “Come on,” he said, pushing Drast down a sloping lawn that was more gravel than grass. Soon they reached a semi-level spot near the edge of the water. The Flo-wing was coming in fast. Drast glanced back at the prison. Smoke and flame obscured much of it now.

  A minute later Osc pushed him into the craft as it hovered half a meter off the beach. To Drast’s surprise, Osc climbed in after him. Three grunges were heading toward the Flo-wing, firing as they came. The pilot spun the ship around and returned fire with onboard laserstiks. The grunges fell. Drast didn’t see it, but Osc handed his INU to the pilot who quickly slid a window open and dropped it into the ocean. AOI-issued INUs had tracking chips.

  Osc popped the cuffs off Drast. “They know I helped you escape,” he said. “You and I both know what wo
uld have happened to me if I stayed.”

  “Why did you help?” Drast asked, but before Osc could answer, they both caught a glimpse of the prison. From their bird’s-eye view, it looked like a cataclysmic disaster in some corner of hell.

  Most of the prison was on fire. Mite’s explosion and several other smaller ones had reduced large sections to rubble, and bodies were everywhere. Most of the inmates who’d made it out were getting picked off by snipers in the towers. Drast hoped the other prisons were faring better. He was lucky to be alive. He would have been dead without Osc, and turned back to his savior and repeated. “Why?”

  “Chelle Andreas is my mother.”

  Chapter 24 - Book 3

  Deuce immediately knew that the Chief had not violated their agreement. The paratroopers raining down on his islands weren’t the glide-jumpers the AOI used. Grunges jumped with glide-wings and jet packs, but these were using more traditional chutes, albeit GPS-assisted, that could guide them to within three square meters. Deuce yelled to the captain. “Kill the motors! Deploy the tarps!”

  Both boats instantly went silent and were individually covered with nano-camo tarps, rendering them invisible. Deuce worked an INU on his “gun belt,” and from underneath the cover he moved small VMs, which gave him full views of the islands and detailed looks into almost any spot he desired. Nelson and Munna watched the screens as images of the building that had contained the book flashed by. Once all the soldiers had landed, Deuce began pushing virtual buttons, causing lasers to fire from concealed points across Ryder Island. A group of the seven paratroopers were taken down before they scattered. After that it was more difficult, but over the next five minutes he took out six more. Then they started to fire upon the boats.

  “I thought they couldn’t see us!” Nelson yelled as the water exploded three meters off their starboard side.

  “Depends on what kind of equipment they have,” he answered while pushing through VMs, looking for something.

  “Apparently they have the right kind,” Nelson said ironically, stealing a sip from his flask. “Who are they?”

  “My guess is P-Force.”

  “Why would Lance Miner be attacking you?”

  “Only one reason I can think of.”

  “What?”

  “The prophecies.”

  Nelson shuddered, but it made sense. With the outbreak of war and his recent missteps, Miner was apparently on the outs with the AOI Chief. He had to make one last play for the prophecies. They were his best shot at redemption. Deuce confirmed Nelson’s thoughts.

  “The AOI has been seizing his assets, but P-Force is a power to reckon with. In many ways they’re tougher than the AOI, and now that Miner has nothing to lose, it looks like he’ll do anything to get the Justar Journal.

  Nelson looked at Munna. She appeared to be meditating. Another munitions hit close enough that the boat rocked and listed. The other boat, with Grandyn, Fye, and Twain, took in water, but was still seaworthy.

  “Move off!” Deuce yelled at the captain, wanting to put some distance between the boats. “Let’s not give them one easy target.”

  “Why haven’t they hit us?” Nelson asked, knowing misses from that range were rare in the age of satellite-guided missiles.

  “StarFly manufactures the system. I’ve got a countermeasure code that buys us a few centimeters for every point seven meters they’re covering.”

  “Impressive,” Nelson said, but then he saw a dark green Flo-wing soaring toward them. “Deuce!” he yelled, pointing.

  Deuce looked up from his VMs and mouthed a curse word. He started pounding virtual keys like a crazed concert pianist. “Come on, come on!”

  Nelson searched the waters for Grandyn’s boat. It was at least five hundred meters away. The Flo-wing was coming fast from the opposite direction. Maybe Grandyn will make it, Nelson thought as he prepared for the impact of whatever the Flo-wing was going to fire. Deuce was completely focused on his screens and keys, and hadn’t looked back at the Flo-wing as it bore down on them.

  “Deuce!” Nelson yelled, certain it was now within striking distance.

  Deuce waved him off.

  “Damn it, Deuce!”

  Deuce didn’t flinch.

  Munna’s eyes were closed.

  If the Flo-wing’s glass hadn’t been tinted, Nelson was sure he would have been able to see the pilot’s expression. The kill in his sights.

  Nelson thought of jumping overboard. “Deuce!”

  “Hold on!” Deuce yelled sharply.

  A second later, the explosion was the loudest thing Nelson had ever heard. It instantly deafened and blinded him, and then he was under water. Cold, dark water, crashing with debris and shrapnel. He fought the urge to breathe, the desperate need for air. It was impossible to tell which way to go as he spun.

  Then he righted and saw light. Two or three meters, he could make it. He kicked and moved his arms, surprised but grateful that all his limbs seemed to be intact and functioning. Breaking the surface, Nelson gasped and gulped in air. Deuce came up seconds later and yelled something, but Nelson only heard a muffled sound that hurt his ears. Nelson waved. Deuce pointed at something. It was the boat! The boat was still in one piece. Capsized, but floating. They swam toward it.

  Once they were close enough together, Deuce yelled again. Nelson couldn’t understand what he was saying, but, reading lips, it was clear Deuce was asking the same thing Nelson was thinking.

  Where was Munna?

  They reached the overturned boat and found their answer. Clinging to the other side were Munna and the captain. She waved, smiling. The captain’s leg was injured enough that he couldn’t swim. Otherwise, they were all fine. Nelson’s hearing had begun to come back to the level of the others, who all had echoing, ringing, and humming.

  “What happened?” Nelson asked. He looked and saw Munna in the water and tried to reach her.

  Grandyn’s boat was racing toward them.

  “Oh no!” Deuce yelled as another missile launched from the island. He crawled onto the bottom of their capsized boat and frantically pulled an INU from his belt. VMs appeared around him while his fingers danced through the air, hitting holographic points on a map.

  The missile closed in fast. Nelson turned back to Deuce. The missile appeared to be heading straight for Grandyn’s boat. Nelson wasn’t sure exactly what Deuce was doing, but he didn’t think there’d be enough time. Then he saw Munna. Her eyes were closed, she seemed calm.

  How much longer can she last in this cold water? he wondered. I’m shivering and I’ve got to weigh nearly three times what she does. And she’s one hundred and thirty-three years old. We’ve got to get her warm and dry quickly.

  He moved next to her. The missile hit the water four meters from Grandyn’s boat, causing it to rise out of the water, but it landed well and righted itself.

  Deuce scanned back to the island, looking for another. “Looks like we have a minute,” he said.

  “Let’s get her out of the water,” Nelson said.

  Grandyn’s boat kept pushing toward them.

  “Good idea. Munna?” Deuce asked, but she seemed lost in meditation.

  A few seconds later, Grandyn’s boat arrived.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Fye asked.

  “Munna, we’re going to get you into the other boat.”

  She didn’t respond. Nelson looked at Deuce.

  “There’s no time. Let’s just do it.”

  Deuce, Grandyn, and Nelson managed to get her carefully into the other boat. They put her in the tiny cabin where Fye tended to her.

  Grandyn and Deuce briefly discussed trying to flip the capsized boat, but they quickly abandoned the idea and all climbed aboard the surviving boat. There was barely enough room, but they squeezed in. They headed into open waters as fast as the overloaded boat could go. Two missiles came, but somehow Deuce was able to push them just far enough off course that they missed their targets.

  “We should be out of their range now,”
Deuce announced.

  “What about another Flo-wing attack?” Grandyn asked.

  “That’s another story.”

  “How did we escape the last one?” Nelson repeated his early question.

  “I shot it down,” Deuce said.

  “From where?”

  “Satellite.”

  “Shoot,” Nelson said. “That’s damned impressive.”

  “Barely made it,” Deuce said.

  “Can you do it again?” Twain asked, pointing at an approaching Flo-wing.

  Chapter 25 - Book 3

  In Toronto, Miner and Sarlo were playing catch-up as the entire PharmaForce system was back up, thanks to their deal with Blaise. It was actually more than a deal; it was an alliance. Blaise would provide intelligence, information, and technical prowess while Miner would provide what Blaise needed most: a standing army. P-Force was one of only four armies in the world, the others being PAWN’s coalition, Deuce’s BLAXERs, and the AOI. Now that the war had started, P-Force was perhaps Miner’s most valuable asset.

  The first order, after they regained command and control capabilities for his elite mercenaries, was to take Ryder and Runit Islands and to capture Deuce Lipton, Nelson Wright, and Munna.

  With the entry of the Trapciers, Blaise needed the prophecies. Although he had great respect for Deuce, he knew that he would never share them with him, and Blaise didn’t trust anyone else to be able to handle the information and power contained in the prophecies. Not with the fate of humanity on the line.

  “The Imps are super smart. They’ve tapped into the hidden universe,” Blaise had explained to Miner and Sarlo. “That connection the rest of us usually miss, that gets lost in the buzz of everyday life, of survival, because when you get down to it, ever since the Stone Age, that’s all we’ve been doing. Surviving and propagating the species. In that way, we’re no different from the rest of the animals.”

  “But we’ve explored the heavens, we’ve made incredible art, written and created. We’re much more than just another animal,” Sarlo had argued.