V_The 2nd Generation

by Kenneth Johnson

  Street-C marveled, "She's gotta be about the coolest character I've ever known."

  Bryke was indeed completely calm and peaceful, seemingly oblivious of their conversation.

  Nathan nodded and said, "The only one I ever saw with that kind of Zen was an old Buddhist priest on Kauai. I saw that old guy once in the middle of a hurricane, people running scared all around him and he was like the eye of the storm, totally calm and unfazed. He was just—"

  Nathan cut himself off. He had seen Bryke's eyes flick up as she sensed something. Nathan and Street-C followed her line of vision and saw what they'd been waiting for.

  Approaching from Larkin, headed west across the grassy park toward the looming, neoclassical dome of San Francisco City Hall, was United Nations Secretary-General Alberto Mendez. A light breeze was ruffling his fine white hair but seemed to bring him no comfort. His dark eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses were downcast as he walked. He was in the company of his usual Visitor Patroller entourage, two in front and two behind.

  As they passed Bryke she casually got to her feet and began to trail them at a short distance. At the same time Street-C stood up and walked across the park, crossing well ahead of the path the Patrollers were taking. He made eye contact with Gary who had been waiting in a sedan parked on Fulton with its front end aiming across Larkin toward the park. Gary had been the first to see the Secretary-General heading into the park and had already started the sedan's engine. Now he slipped it into gear while keeping his foot firmly on the brake.

  About ten seconds after Street-C headed toward his position just north of the route the entourage was taking, Nathan stood up, stretched in the sunlight, and turned casually to follow in the same direction. He walked more slowly so as to remain on their target's south side.

  One of the Patrollers glanced over at the sandy-haired Teammate and nodded a greeting. Then the Patroller frowned and took a second look. The Resistance team knew going in that it was possible Nathan might be recognized as a wanted fugitive. When they saw the lead Patroller take a closer look it was their cue to launch their offensive.

  Nathan and Street-C each pulled out pulse pistols and fired on the two Patrollers leading the Secretary-General. Simultaneously Bryke attacked the rear guards from behind. Her Zedti martial artistry dispensed with one immediately, but the other was grappling with her. Nathan grabbed for Secretary-General Mendez, but the older man pulled back and struggled against him. "No! No, please, you mustn't!"

  "We're here to help you, sir," Nathan said urgently.

  "No, please! You don't understand." The Secretary-General still tried to pull away. Then suddenly there were fiery bursts around them from other pulse weapons.

  "Up there, man," Street-C shouted, pointing toward the two Airborne Patrollers who were flying in from over Fulton Street. They were firing their pulse rifles. Nathan was still struggling to hold on to Secretary-General Mendez and finally jabbed a tranquilizer dart into the old man's arm. The Secretary-General's eyes widened with shock, then glazed over as he went limp in Nathan's arms. Nathan pulled Mendez onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry as he saw that Gary's sedan was on the move toward them. It jumped the curb as Gary drove it right across the broad lawn toward them.

  "There's more coming! From City Hall!" Street-C shouted as he aimed and fired toward a Teammate unit that was running from the building toward the fracas.

  Bryke had finally taken down the second rear Patroller. She shouted to Nathan as she pulled her sonic pistol. "Go! Get him away!" She aimed up toward the incoming Air-Pats who had separated slightly to make a more difficult target. Bryke fired toward them. The shock wave from her sonic weapon caught one of them full on and slammed him hard into a tree, but the other Air-Pat got off a nearly simultaneous pulse burst. The ball of energy flashed through the air, blasted Bryke hard on her left arm, and spun her to the ground. She dropped her sonic weapon.

  "Bryke!" Nathan cried out as he carried the dead weight of the Secretary-General toward Gary's oncoming car.

  The Zedti was struggling onto her knees. "Get him away!" Then she grabbed her sonic pistol and turned back to exchange more fire with the inbound Air-Pat.

  Gary's sedan had sped across the lawn and skidded to a stop beside Nathan who barely managed to open the back door while supporting Mendez. Then he trundled the unconscious old man onto the backseat and climbed in behind.

  Street-C had been exchanging fire with the approaching Teammates. He had taken down two of them and gotten nicked himself in the side. Then he saw that two more Airborne Patrollers were coming from overtop the dome of City Hall. He ran for the car, which took a pulse hit on the front fender as he pulled open the passenger door, shouting to Nathan in the back, "We gotta blow, man!"

  "But Bryke!"

  "I'm telling you, we gotta blow!" He stomped his foot on top of Gary's and the car sprang forward, running right over one of the oncoming Teammates.

  Nathan leaned out of the car window and fired staccato pulse bursts at the two new Air-Pats who were firing back at the escaping car. Nathan took down one of them as the sedan lurched across the sidewalk through scattering pedestrians and bounced onto Grove Street. Leaning out his passenger window Street-C got off four quick pulse bursts, one of which caught the pursuing Air-Pat in the leg and threw him out of control and into the side of Davis Symphony Hall.

  Nathan looked back toward the park and was grieved to see that back in the park Bryke was being overwhelmed by Teammates.

  The brave Zedti fought fiercely, until a nervous young Teammate put the muzzle of his pulse weapon right against her head and brought her to a stop. Bryke realized further struggle was futile.

  The Teammate holding the gun to her head was a half-breed: Willy's son Ted.

  24

  THE VISITOR TECHNICIAN TERESA WAS VERY TIRED. SHE HAD BEEN working steadily in the Flagship laboratory for nearly seventy-two hours without sleep, driven by her intense desire to rise in the estimation of her Commandant. She had been experimenting with various combinations of the Flagship's numerous external high-gain antennae, trying to find the precise configuration that would bring in the most stable signal from the clandestine camera inside the Resistance headquarters.

  It had been a slow and laborious process, but she had finally been rewarded with a fairly reliable image that she felt was worthy of showing to the Commandant at least as a work-in-progress. Teresa also thought of Diana as her colleague in the project. When Teresa initially showed the invention to her Commandant at its earliest stages several years ago Diana had immediately seen its possibilities and put Teresa to work on it full-time. Teresa was very pleased that Diana had given it such a high priority and that she had also classified it as secret.

  An hour earlier Teresa had sent word to Diana, who had just come down into the lab. The other technicians and doctors, including Eric, immediately snapped to attention when Teresa announced, "Commandant on deck."

  Diana waved them to be at ease. "Please continue your work." Then she turned to Teresa and spoke more quietly, "You've made progress, I take it."

  "Yes, Commandant," Teresa said nervously. "But please understand that this is such a delicate process I've been concerned that something might go wrong with it just when I try to demonstrate it to you. It's not yet completely stable and as yet I'm unable to receive any audio; but I'm still experimenting to see if I can find a better combination of antennas. I hope you'll have patience with me."

  Diana stepped closer. "Let me have a look."

  "Here's what I've managed so far." Teresa activated the small vid display on the electronic lab table. They were able to see a blurry, unsteady image from within the Resistance warehouse that jumped and jostled as though the transmitting camera was being held in someone's hand.

  Despite that wobbliness and the overall grainy, vacillating quality of the transmission, Diana could make out a redheaded woman whom she instantly recognized. "Ah. Margarita Perry."

  "Yes, Commandant," the technician agreed. "That's
what I thought. And I've also caught glimpses of a few others I think I recognize from our most wanted list: that Peruvian woman Ysabel Encalada, and once I'm almost certain I saw Juliet Parish."

  Diana's hand came to rest between Teresa's shoulder blades. Teresa was deeply gratified to feel it; she felt that Diana was literally giving her a pat on the back. "This is good work, Teresa," the Commandant said. "Excellent work." Teresa was surprised and then thrilled to feel Diana's hand slide slowly down to the small of her back and then feel Diana's fingertips gently massage her lower spine. "I'm very pleased with what you've accomplished so far. And I'm very pleased with you personally."

  The technician turned slightly to look into Diana's large brown eyes as the Commandant smiled faintly and said, "Continue to refine the image and work on the audio. Take very careful notes about everything you observe." Then Diana leaned closer to Teresa, pressing her hand more firmly against the technician's back as she said confidentially, "Be certain that you report directly to me."

  "Oh, yes, of course, Commandant," Teresa said, trying to conceal the flutter in her heart she felt at Diana's touch.

  "And only to me," Diana concluded as she held her gaze a few seconds for more emphasis.

  "Naturally, Commandant, only ever to you."

  Diana gave her a final conspiratorial smile and turned toward the hatch. She paused to look at several small animals in their cages. She examined them a moment, then asked, "Are these only for experimentation?"

  "No, Commandant"—Teresa indicated with a welcoming gesture—"please, help yourself."

  Diana examined them all. There were several mice, a few rats, and other small mammals. But what caught her eye the most was a tiny black and white rabbit. She gently removed the trembling little creature from its cage. As she did, the technician felt emboldened to step slightly closer.

  "If I may ask, Commandant," Teresa spoke very softly, excited by their new confidentiality. She gestured toward the vid screen on her worktable. "Since you have this inside track to their headquarters, why not just raid them?"

  "Everything in its proper time, Teresa." The technician saw Diana's brown eyes glisten, hinting at a sexual innuendo. Then the Commandant turned and exited through the hatch. Teresa paused a moment. Her heart was pounding. She looked out the hatch after Diana. Just before Diana reached the aide who was waiting by a transport tube, Teresa saw Diana tilt her head back and swallow the rabbit alive.

  AT THE RESISTANCE WAREHOUSE, THE STATELY GRAY-HAIRED WOMAN whom Margarita and Ayden had liberated was having a tearful reunion with her husband, U.N. Secretary-General Mendez. The pleased Resistance team watched from a discreet distance as the two embraced and conversed in Spanish.

  "I've worried so much about you," Secretary-General Mendez said as he stroked his wife's smooth gray hair. "Did they hurt you, Juanita?"

  "No, Alberto," she said, wiping her eyes and smiling at him. "I just felt so terrible. I could see you on the videos so I knew you were all right, but I knew you must be worried sick about me." She hugged him tightly again.

  Across the room, Nathan approached Ayden. "Listen, I really feel awful about Bryke getting captured."

  Ayden shrugged it off without the slightest emotion. "Bryke is a soldier. She knew that could happen."

  "We're trying to locate her," Nathan said encouragingly, "we've gotten word to our spy in the Flagship Centcom. If there's any chance we can spring her, then I'll personally lead the charge."

  "You needn't worry."

  Nathan was confused. "What do you mean?"

  "She won't betray your operation," Ayden said dryly.

  "What?" Nathan was put off by the Zedti's assumption. "That's not why I want to rescue her. She's part of our team. And she saved my life twice."

  "And mine at least six times over the years," Ayden said without looking at him, "but we have more important matters pressing." Ayden walked over toward the others. Nathan watched him, thrown by the Zedti's lack of emotion regarding Bryke.

  Secretary Mendez was saying to Julie and Margarita, "I thank you all for bringing my wife out of harm's way."

  "We're glad we could help," Margarita said.

  Then Julie elaborated, "We learned that the Visitors were holding her and realized they must be threatening her in order to make you speak in their behalf."

  "Yes," he said, his arm around his wife who stood close beside him. "And they kept me under close guard so I had no possibility of escape." Then he went on with great difficulty, "I also was prevented from taking my own life in order to no longer be their puppet." His wife clutched his hand tightly as he said, "I attempted it more than once. And would have again had they not threatened me with torture and death for Juanita if I succeeded. So obviously I was in no position to ever reveal the truths I had discovered about them."

  "We'll be only too happy to give you that opportunity, Mr. Secretary-General," said Julie.

  The Nobel laureate looked at her with eyes that now burned brightly with enthusiasm. "And I shall certainly take that opportunity, young lady."

  AT THE ACCESS GATE IN THE LASER FENCE THAT SURROUNDED THE Mission District Sci ghetto, the Visitor Patroller on station was surprised. He had just looked up and discovered Emma standing before him. He had only ever seen her on the music vids and once in the distance when he had been assigned to one of her concerts. But he had never seen the star up-close. Her creamy, coffee-colored skin was perfect even from two feet away. And she certainly had a presence that people couldn't help but take notice of. He stumbled a bit with his words as he greeted her, "Uh, yes, miss? Can I help you?"

  Emma smiled, but was very businesslike. "I'm sure you can, Sergeant, I just need to go inside there for a few minutes." She was indicating the Sci Section that lay beyond the gate.

  "Are you certain, miss?" The Patroller was surprised. "I'm afraid you'll find it very unsavory."

  "You're probably right, Sergeant"—Emma looked down the Sci street with distaste—"but I have to set something right."

  "Can't one of us handle the matter for you, miss?" He indicated himself and the other two guards who had drifted closer to get a good look at the music star.

  "No," Emma said with a tone that implied she had a nasty score to settle, "I need to do it personally."

  "Very well, miss, I'll just tag along, if you don't mind."

  He moved to escort her, but she caught his arm. "I'd rather you didn't, Sergeant. It will have much more impact on the people involved if I confront them on my own."

  The Patroller was reticent. "I'm afraid my superiors wouldn't be pleased with me if I let someone as important as yourself go in there alone."

  "I'll take the responsibility, Sergeant," she said firmly.

  He stared at her for a long moment during which Emma considered what reward she might offer him if he required more convincing, but the need didn't arise. "Very well, miss," he said, "but please come back out this same gate so I can be certain you've departed safely."

  "Very thoughtful, Sergeant. You can be sure I will."

  Emma pulled a baseball cap and dark glasses from the large purse she was carrying and moved through the gate into the ghetto as a Patrol craft glided by overhead. She saw another Visitor vehicle patrolling in the distance and felt the ominous weight of their presence. There were always shuttles and occasional fighters passing over the streets and buildings of San Francisco. They were a fact of life in every city and town across the planet. But here in the Sci Section they definitely passed by at lower altitude and with much greater frequency.

  Emma had never gone into a Sci Section before. It was a far cry from the "charming, parklike communities" that appeared in her vid The Visitor Way. These streets were much more crowded. They smelled of inadequate sanitation.

  Despite her sunglasses and baseball cap, many people recognized her as she passed among them. Most of those who did were startled and amazed to see her in their dismal ghetto. Though she tried to keep focused straight ahead, several people purposely got into he
r line of sight. She nodded politely to them as she walked. A few other people made bold to ask her for some money or other help. She said politely that she would try to come back but couldn't help on this particular day. She did, however, manage to slip a few dollars into the hands of three emaciated and particularly desperate-looking children who each approached her separately.

  Mary Elgin was completely surprised when she answered the rapping at her thin wooden door and found it to be Emma. Mary didn't know exactly how to react, but Emma quickly resolved the problem by embracing Mary. Emma could feel that the frail woman was tremulous in her arms so Emma held her tightly for a long moment. At length Mary eased back and looked at her employer. They both had tears in their eyes, but Mary looked much more upbeat than Emma had expected. Mary was the first to speak, "Thank you for what you did for Charlotte."

  Emma shook her head. "Unfortunately I didn't do very much, I'm afraid."

  "No, no, that's not true," Mary said brightly. "You took our side. You tried to help. That meant everything, really!"

  "Well, I wish I could've done more. I wish we could have saved her."

  Mary tentatively took her arm. "Please, come on in. Not that there's much farther to come," Mary joked. Emma stepped into the center of the tiny living room and took it all in: the battered furniture, the stained sink in the ramshackle kitchen, the threadbare carpet, the curtain on a rope that created a bedroom for the elder Mr. Elgin in one corner of the central kitchen-living room. Mary had turned enthusiastically to the stove. "I'll put on some tea!"

  Emma watched her closely. She knew how emotionally fragile Mary had always been and something about her current behavior seemed off-key to Emma as Mary continued in an effusive vein, "Oh, that's my father-in-law, Charles Senior. Pop to us."

  "Mr. Elgin, hi." Emma reached down to take his hand as he sat in the ratty easy chair.

  "None of that, young lady, it's Pop to you, too"—he shook her hand with a grin, then pressed it sincerely—"and thanks for trying to help Charlotte. She was . . ." His throat tightened. Emma understood and kissed his forehead.