The Rebirths of Tao

by Wesley Chu

  Stop it. There was nothing you could do.

  “I don’t subscribe to that. There is always something that can be done.”

  As the infinitely wiser being, I am a better judge.

  “Pulling rank on me? You haven’t done that in a while.”

  I might not have the military mind of many other Quasing, but I have at the very least occupied three generals, one of them even deserving of the rank, so cut it out. You do not have time for this nonsense.

  “Jill?” Datlow’s voice came across the line. “Are you there? What is your status?”

  “I still have passengers embedded on the Underground Railroad. The Patel group needs to catch their ship. Put all regional stations on comm lockdown. The attack was too well-coordinated. They knew exactly how to hit us.”

  “Will do. We have your manifest on file already. Hearne in Vancouver has already stepped in to assist and has rerouted the Patels through Seattle. All western stations are now on alert. Is there anything else?”

  “I need a new crypto key authorized to continue operations from this location. Some of the work might have to route through Faust’s operation to complete deliverables.”

  “Your base was just attacked, Jill. Surely, you can put that on hold until the situation stabilizes.”

  “No. There are too many lives at stake. Get that crypto key patched via Safe House CAFB49. I need to be on-line and working as soon as possible.”

  “It’ll take an hour to route.”

  “One last thing. My son is missing. He might try to call in. Please let him know that I’m all right and set up a rendezvous for this location. I will try to check in every day or two.”

  “Of course. Our thoughts are with you.”

  “Thank you, Datlow.” Jill stayed on the call for another five minutes, tying up every loose thread she could recall. It was at the same time cathartic and guilt-inducing. She was a compromised station in the Underground Railroad, a vital cog that was now broken. After she hung up the phone, Jill made the lonely walk through the darkness back toward the trailer, her usually busy multi-tasking mind strangely clear and empty. There was still much to do, but she had a hard time caring at this very moment.

  Get some rest. Worry about resupplying in the morning. I would recommend moving further south if possible.

  “I don’t want to get too far away. Cameron could be trying to make his way here as well.”

  I guess this safe house is as fine a base of operations as any. Better than most, considering you are protected from two sides. Stay alert, however. We do not know how much of your network the Genjix uncovered.

  She found Freeni and Vladimir sitting on lawn chairs on top of the trailer. They were chatting amiably and sharing beers. They both raised their cans as she approached.

  “You up for cold one?” Freeni asked, holding up the six-pack with two beers left. “A few months’ expired, but bearable.”

  Jill grinned and climbed up the ladder. She was soon sitting next to Vladimir, cracking open a can. The beer was room-temperature, stale, and frankly tasted like syrup. However, it was the very thing she needed at this exact moment. She slouched in her chair and held her can up to toast the Russian.

  Vladimir leaned in. “I want to thank you for earlier.”

  “For punching you in the face? Do you always thank people for that?”

  “For snapping me out of my depression.” He touched the purple blossom on his cheek and winced. “You punch like a Siberian railway worker.”

  “I will take that as a compliment, and you’re welcome.”

  They clinked cans. The small group sat in exhausted silence as they drank and stared at the sky. For those few minutes, Jill allowed herself to clear her mind and not think about anything else. She just breathed in and out deeply, feeling her body finally settle down. She had been on this path for so long, she could hardly remember life before the Quasing War. What was the end game? How did this finish? She couldn’t imagine that, either.

  So much for clearing your mind and not thinking about things.

  “Sorry. Can’t help it.”

  Nothing to apologize for. You have succeeded far beyond my wildest hopes for you. I am infinitely proud and honored to call you my host.

  “You know how to say all the right things to a girl.”

  I have had thousands of years of experience. That and I learned by watching Roen do it wrong all these years.

  “That guy. I’m convinced his doing it wrong is what is so right about him.”

  A true idiot savant, then.

  Jill’s precious peace lasted until Vladimir opened his mouth and ruined the moment. “Do you really think we’ll see our children again?” he asked.

  Jill stood up, downed her beer and then crushed the can. “The Genjix better hope I do. Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life hunting them down. Get some sleep, Vladimir. You have last watch.”

  She climbed back down into the trailer and rummaged through her bags until she found what she was looking for: a small gold bangle. She walked to the bedroom in the back, where Ohr was sleeping and Rin was reading a fashion magazine. That seemed to be the only thing she could find to read in the trailer. Jill made a mental note to restock her safe houses with better reading materials.

  She gestured for Rin to come over and slid the bangle over the small Japanese woman’s wrist. “I have something for you in case things go bad. This is very important, personally as well as operationally. I want you to keep it on you at all times.”

  Rin shook the bangle loosely around her wrist. “Not quite my style, but I appreciate the gesture. Anything else?” She held up the magazine. “I’m about to learn what was in fashion three years ago.”

  Jill pulled out her tablet and began to type on it. “Tell me everything you know about catalyst facilities, starting with that one just a few hours northeast of here.”

  Rin nodded. “Your people found it, then. You’d better get comfortable. This could take a while.” She paused, looking at Jill intently. “Quasiform is a multi-phased approach to terraforming Earth, combining atmospheric, chemical, and seismic detonations coupled with the merging of acidic levels that would more or less, over the course of a few years, turn Earth’s atmosphere into one not too far off from that of Quasar, the Quasing home world.”

  “We were aware of the atmospheric manipulation of the environment and the catalyst reaction rods.”

  “Quasiform can only do so much. The planet must also meet the process halfway. That is why for the past hundred or so years, the Genjix have been slowly increasing the average temperature of the planet. Chemically, the reaction rods, once heated to high temperatures, will release metastasizing catalysts into the atmosphere to create a chain reaction.”

  “Could you explain what you mean by seismic detonations?”

  “You will find that over half the catalyst facilities, the one nearby included, are built over the beginning of a major seismic fault line. The process is meant to widen the faults with the intention of creating very large seismic shifts. Remember, Quasar’s surface is completely liquid. To function optimally, Quasiform would raise water levels, while at the same time leveling large portions of the surface, so that Earth eventually becomes a completely submerged planet…”

  Over the next three hours, Jill typed up everything Rin summarized about Quasiform and the catalyst facilities. The Genjix future sounded terrifying.

  25

  Found

  Timestamp: 3012

  Eventually, we realized that it was no longer possible to live in large cities. Penetra nets were at too many stinking intersections. Regional IXTF offices popped up all over the place like coffee shops. It became untenable to live within a hundred miles of any major metropolitan area. We once had to move four times in a month.

  The straw that broke the camel’s back was when they started putting Penetra nets in the schools in Washington DC. Cameron got caught, and we had to yank him out and get out of town, barely staying ahead of
the IXTF. Who was the bright genius who decided to put a damn scanner in a grade school? I want to punch him in the face. Oh, the president? Never mind. I’m not voting for him next year.

  * * *

  An argument erupted in room 224 of their motel. It wasn’t a couple fighting, though, it was Roen and Marco trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do next. Their quarreling got so bad that Helen and Sheck, who were having breakfast on the balcony, stuck both their heads in to investigate. Elias would tell them later on that he could hear the ruckus all the way from the parking lot.

  “And as always, Roen, you don’t have the authority to make that call,” Marco growled, his body still dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his waist. This probably wasn’t the best time for them to quarrel, but he had just gotten out of a shower and was irritated with Roen, who had cooked the entire batch of bacon and was feasting on the stack while lying in bed. The Brit had recently developed a fascination with American bacon, and the two of them were single-handedly causing a bacon shortage in Ontario.

  “You and that hag are going to get everyone killed,” Roen snapped back.

  “That’s not your call. There is a command structure, Roen, and you are nowhere near the top. In fact, you’re more like down here.” Marco gestured at his knees. “We have our orders, and our team, you included, will follow them to the best of our abilities. That attack force is coming whether you like it or not.”

  “Damn it, Marco. Think for yourself, man. What does your pea brain tell you? Hell, what does Ahngr say about it? Why would you even consider following through with an attack when you know that,” he held up a finger, “we don’t have the firepower to take it, and,” he held up two fingers, “they know we’re coming. We have no chance. It’s suicide. If we’re going to do our mission right, we should be doing everything in our power to convince the Keeper not to go through with this.”

  “See. That’s always been your problem. You decide something, and then everyone else can piss off if they don’t agree with you.” Marco stomped forward, shaking a finger, the towel flirting with disaster as the knot around his waist held on for dear life. “That’s why you can’t play nice, and no one likes you.”

  “Thank you, you didactic asshole,” Roen said, purposely chewing through the plate of bacon as fast as he could. That fact wasn’t lost on Marco, who looked like he was seconds away from diving onto the bed to snatch the plate away. Thank God he didn’t, because Elias burst into the room a second later. With only a towel around Marco’s waist, that would have been awkward.

  To his credit, Elias didn’t bat an eye. “We’ve got a problem.” He closed the door behind him and looked out the window.

  Roen sat up in bed and put the plate aside. He wiped his hands and joined Elias at the window. “Crap,” he exclaimed.

  Two white vans had pulled into the parking lot. The top of one of the vans had the familiar shark fins of the IXTF Penetra vans. Twelve fully-geared men stepped out. One of them walked into the office, and another took position at the driveway out to the street. The rest spread out and disappeared from view. At least two of the agents carried portable Penetra scanners.

  “Rouse the men,” Marco ordered, running for some clothes. “I want us packed in three and ready to move.”

  Roen went next door and kicked the napping Chase awake. “Got agents canvasing the motel. Get moving.”

  Like all good soldiers, Chase was up and throwing on his shirt five seconds later. Within a minute, he was dressed and loading a magazine into his pistol. Within two, the both of them were fully packed and ready to go. In another minute, the entire team was ready to move. Roen looked out of the window and watched as the six or seven agents made a beeline toward their end of the balcony hall.

  Roen took a quick inventory from the window and spoke into his comm. “Multiple armed moving toward us. One at the driveway. One on the far edge of the lot. I have sights on him. Remember people, these are federal agents. Lethal force only if necessary.”

  Marco added. “They must have detected me in the room. We’ll use that knowledge to our advantage. Take them out after they’ve passed Elias’s door. Hoods over your heads, people. Helen, get the car. Everyone else, move the gear down. Roen, clear the lot.”

  Roen looked to his right, where the lone agent stood guard at the driveway. The safe option would just be to riddle him with bullets, but Roen preferred not to, if possible. That left one option. The next few seconds were anxious as the agents walking down the balcony got closer and closer.

  “Opening in three, two, one…” Roen heard through the comm.

  All three of their doors opened at the same time, and the team charged the federal agents from all directions. Roen, aiming through the window, plugged the guy at the far end of the parking lot twice in the shoulder. He ran out of the room and sped to the end of the balcony hall. He caught sight of the guard in the driveway below him and aimed low, shooting him in both legs. The guard fell to the ground, writhing. As the rest of his team disarmed the surprised federal agents, Roen jumped off the balcony and landed heavily on the ground.

  He grunted as he rolled to his feet, tweaking his left foot in the process. He was definitely not a young buck anymore. That drop was a five at best. Roen limped just a little as he ran to the downed agent, who was still writhing in pain. Roen kicked his rifle away from him and pinned him down to the ground. The poor kid must have been eighteen; he looked like he belonged more in the chess club in high school than he did in a SWAT uniform. To be fair, though, everyone younger than Roen looked eighteen to him these days.

  “Sorry, son,” he muttered as he brought the butt of his rifle down on the kid’s head.

  He turned around and saw another agent charging from the back of the motel. He rolled to his left just as the guy opened fire. Landing flat on his stomach, Roen hit him in the thigh and once more in his side, spinning him around. This guy was going to be seriously injured. His armor had saved his life, but he probably had some broken ribs from the slug in the chest. Again, he felt guilty, but there was little he could do.

  Roen picked himself up and ran to the body. The agent, also looking like a teenager, was clutching his thigh and rolling around in agony. He grabbed the rifle before the guy could reach it and flung it into the parking lot next door. He took one look at the bloody injury and thought better than to knock him unconscious. If he did, the kid was going to bleed out.

  He pulled out a cord he always kept on him – usually reserved for strangling someone – and tossed it to him. “Put that around your injury and squeeze it tight.”

  Roen sprinted back to the parking lot and saw the rest of his team moving their gear down the stairs to the station wagon. He rushed back to them and kept watch as they loaded it up. “One more still loose,” he said, scanning the perimeter. They were sitting ducks out here.

  He caught sight of the guy creeping around the corner. He ran forward and put one hand on the agent’s rifle barrel and the other under his armpit. Then Roen lowered his weight and twisted, driving him into the ground. The agent tried to reach for his pistol.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Roen said.

  The stubborn fool continued to draw.

  Roen put his foot on the guy’s wrist. “Seriously? What part of ‘don’t’ do you not understand?”

  Still the kid squirmed. He just didn’t know when to give up, which, while usually an admirable trait, was exceptionally stupid when someone had a rifle inches from your face while stepping on you. For a second, he considered whacking him alongside the head to teach him a lesson, but decided on a gentler approach.

  “You got a girlfriend, kid?”

  The agent, surprised by this line of questioning, stopped squirming and nodded.

  “You want to see her again, right?”

  He nodded again.

  “I want you to, too but that’s not going to happen if you move another inch. Got it?”

  Third nod.

  Roen heard a honk be
hind him and nudged the kid in the face with the rifle’s muzzle. “Stay still. Live another day. The most important lesson you can ever learn is when to know you’ve lost. Don’t make this mistake again, pal.” He flung the rifle off to the side and ran to the waiting station wagon. They pulled out and were cruising toward highway 84 within seconds.

  “How did they find us?” he asked.

  “Random patrol?” said Elias. “Or they would have come down harder.”

  “Most likely they’ve been getting blips of me over the past few days and finally decided to do a sweep,” Marco said. “Happens quite a bit back in London. They probably have a few scanners stationed at intersections, and we’ve been tripping them just enough for them to isolate this location.”

  “Where to, boss?” Helen asked.

  “Crap,” Roen growled, pointing at a Penetra van near the on-ramp in the distance. They made a U-turn and headed north down Olds-Ferry Ontario Highway, running into another van at the intersection of 201. Fortunately, this one was parked with no one inside.

  “We have to get off the road,” Roen said as they made another U-turn. “Someone’s bound to notice us and get suspicious.”

  Marco sighed. “Guess we’ll have to make use of the B location.”

  Everyone groaned. They had desperately hoped to not ever have to use that backup site. It was a small shed west of the river. Chase had found this place during one of his scouting trips when they had first arrived. It was an awful place to live, but it would serve its purpose until they could join the main Prophus force.

  A few minutes later, they pulled off the road to the abandoned factory and drove around back to a small shack tucked in the corner of the factory’s work yard. While Roen hid the station wagon in the main building, the rest of the team lugged their gear into the storage shed, the floor of which hid the door to the B location. The good thing about this safe house was it was buried several meters underground, so it would guard them against random Penetra scans. The bad news was that they would be underground without running water, central air, or beds.