Living in Syn

by Bobby Draughon

  Smiling broadly, he approached her table. “You never told me you were headed to Triton.”

  She returned the smile, perhaps slyly. “You never asked. I’m finishing up my rotation here soon.”

  He sat down next to her and leaned over until their foreheads touched. “I missed you.”

  A half-hour later, they were sitting on her bed, with Carson behind her and looking over her shoulder. Vivienne was thumbing through an oversized book of art reproductions. She was pointing out the Rembrandts.

  Carson’s face was very close to her hair. It smelled faintly of strawberries. As he moved closer to her neck, he also detected a hint of perfume. He closed his eyes. He didn’t know enough to recognize the fragrance, but he knew that he liked it.

  He kissed her neck. She closed her eyes and felt a slight tremble. My God!

  He found her mouth, and then slowly her tongue. He held her by her shoulders, and then moved his hands up to her face. So beautiful.

  He pulled at her coverall, and in the semi-darkness, he saw her nipples, very pointed. Carson kissed her throat, and then ran a string of soft kisses down onto her breasts. He was very aware that Vivienne’s breathing was very shallow, almost as if a deep breath would break the spell. He ran his tongue over her nipples, and then took them into his mouth. Almost inaudibly, she moaned. She felt his bare chest, pressing down against her.

  Vivienne woke from a light sleep and felt Carson next to her. He pushed his body closer and she smiled. “Again?” she asked.

  Carson whispered in her ear, “Again. And then…again.”

  She moaned in pleasure as he took her by her shoulders.

  45

  The group sat around the cafeteria table looking grim. Or at least, Mission and Carson did. Susan looked frightened and Montag showed his usual serious involvement with safety concerns. It is only fair to clarify Susan's attitude, because she was not frightened for herself. She was frightened for Carson and particularly for Mission. Here sat two presumably sane men, agreeing to take tremendous risks, because it was the best opportunity to date.

  Mission said, "Look, Atwood is playing this perfectly. He’s a very intelligent man. He's pulled everyone back into their rooms and he'll keep them there until we leave. We'll have our suspicions, but not the first piece of substantive proof. Now it's our turn. Atwood is smart, but we only need to out think his dumbest employee. We have to do some more aggressive poking and prodding. And someone will panic and play into our hands."

  Susan said, "That's your plan? Stir up some dust and see who coughs? Using your logic, you and Carson could just march into the cafeteria here and blow away the fruit cocktail and hope somebody panics!"

  Carson shook his head. "No Susan. This is a calculated risk. But we aren't engaging in conduct clearly out of bounds like shooting up the cafeteria. Which is not a bad idea. Denman invited us to see the refinery. He's a Pioneer employee. We are completely innocent. And if they’re hiding something from us in there, we have a strong possibility of a reaction that gives us something to work with."

  Mission nodded. "Listen to him Susan. He's a trained tactician, and I'm no stranger to the subject. So you just hold up in your room and we will ..."

  Susan's eyes grew wide. "You have lost your mind if you think I'm going to sit on my bed and watch the news while you three re-enact High Noon. I'm not about to ... "

  Mission's voice rose. "You've just spent the last ten minutes arguing about how dangerous this is. Why would we take you?"

  Susan smiled and said, "If I were setting you up, I'd send a team after you fighters and a smaller group to grab me. Didn't you just make the point that a team is only as strong as its weakest link? If they have me, for all practical purposes, they have the team."

  Mission boiled. Finally he erupted with, "I hate arguing with women! One minute they say it's too dangerous for the trained fighters, then the next they flip flop and explain how it's the safest place they can be. And don't see any inconsistency throughout the entire dialogue!"

  Mission pointed at Susan and said, "Carson, why don't you tell me what Susan decides about our excursion, once she's finished thinking this through?"

  Carson nodded his head sympathetically but said, "She does have a point, Mission. Susan alone in her room is a significant vulnerability."

  Mission said, "Fine. Then Montag should stay behind with her. Then we're covered."

  Carson shook his head. "No. I'm not blaming this on you because we all agreed, but Montag is no match for the aggressive models with the combat programming."

  Mission was ready for an embolism. What in the hell had he been thinking when he told them not to program Montag? He's a machine and Susan is a human being. What did he say? I don't want to win at any cost. That was so easy for him to say when it seemed he was only risking his life. Now the turmoil controlled him. Now he couldn't make a simple tactical decision.

  He trembled with the anger building up inside. He stood up and slung his lunch tray across the room like a Frisbee. In the mostly empty room, the tray shattered against the wall and the sounds of the crash and then its echoes bombarded the room. The minimal activity in the cafeteria stopped. Mission still trembled. Ordinarily, he would interpret this as an indication that he needed to destroy even more.

  He settled for leaning down on the table and hissing, "Weapons check in my room at 6:45. I suppose anyone there is going with us."

  He turned and kicked his chair into the next table, knocking it over. There. He felt a little better. He quick marched out of the dining room and headed for the exercise unit.

  A little before six, Mission knocked on Susan's door. She opened it and said, "Hello little boy. You're welcome to come in, but I don't have anything for you to break."

  Mission walked in and sat on the bed without comment. Susan sat down next to him and he looked at her with deep concern. Finally Susan broke the silence. "Okay, tell me. It's obvious you've been brooding."

  "I ... I can't accept the risk of you getting hurt."

  "It's not your risk to accept or reject. And I'm not crazy about the idea, but the only way you can feel good with this logic is having me locked in a glass bubble. No good."

  Mission looked at her and said, "Okay. You're a grown woman and you made good decisions long before I came around. I just have to adjust my thinking so that I don't drive us both crazy."

  Susan shook her head. "No. You still don't get it. You talk about us being a couple and then you turn around and talk about you solving your problem in a vacuum. Did you ever think that perhaps I should be involved?"

  She grew angrier and then stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Actually, I think you're being pretty damned selfish. Have you ever considered that maybe I have to adjust my thinking? That it might bother me that you risk your life every day? That's one of the reasons I'm going on this safari. I'll be damned if I'm going to sit at home wondering if you are lying dead under the foot of some killer machine."

  Now the anger boiled inside her. "I am not the silently suffering little woman and I never will be!"

  Her eyes literally danced with fire. Mission found it arousing. He also recognized that Susan was not in the same frame of mind.

  "Okay, I can't argue with any of that. I guess we’re both going tonight and we’ll both worry about the other. You know, an objective observer might tell us that life and death struggles are not the optimum backdrop for building a relationship."

  Then he looked at her for a moment and added, "But I wouldn't change anything. Would you?"

  She shook her head. "No ... except that I would have put a lot more Jello on your tray before you threw it."

  Mission pulled her close and said, "I've got a good feeling about tonight. I think you and I should find a way to properly celebrate when we get back."

  Susan said, "Double solitaire?"

  Mission grinned as he walked out. "See you at 6:45."

  Susan said, "Aren't you going to eat?"

  "Hope for best case, prep
are for the worst. I never eat before a fight."

  The door closed and Susan's smile disappeared. She had a bad feeling about tonight and she worried that she and Mission had just spent their last private moments together.

  46

  By the time Susan knocked on Mission's door, Carson and Montag had already been there for ten minutes. Montag sat on the floor and Carson leaned against the sink while Mission and Susan sat on the bed.

  Mission said, "Okay Susan, it's important that everyone knows the whereabouts of all weapons and ammunition. That way, if someone is incapacitated, the group doesn't necessarily lose that armament. Okay?"

  She nodded and Mission said, "Good. Now I carry the Glock with the holster inside my left waistband. I carry spare clips in my two thigh patch pockets and my two rear pockets. Okay? Now Carson, what about that nasty Stiletto?"

  Carson stood up and pulled back his jacket to reveal his weapon hanging under his arm. "She's hanging from an elastic strap around the shoulder, connected by a magnet. She always comes free for me, but if the snap hung up, the elastic would stretch enough to let you fire normally. 120 rounds to the clip, she fires 12 rounds a second. I have two extra clips on each side of my belt."

  Mission pulled a crate out from under his bed. He pulled out several ultrasound grenades. "Since Elliot tells us we may cook our brains if we absorb more than 60 seconds every ten minutes, I see no reason for anyone to take more than one. But it makes sense that each of us carry at least one."

  As he handed them out, Susan said, "Why?"

  Carson answered, "Because this way, it only takes one person pulling a pin to save us all."

  Susan took hers without comment. Then Mission pulled out the interrupters. "Now each of us can take two or three of these. Except you Montag. We never discussed it, but I'm pretty sure that once you arm it, it would at least paralyze the hand that's holding it."

  Susan and Montag nodded. As Mission passed out the interrupters, he said, "Now don't be shy. Better to take too many than too few. I myself am taking the party pack."

  He pulled out a cylinder about the size and shape of two soda cans stacked on top of each other. Carson asked, "What in the hell is that?"

  Mission grinned. "Elliot made it for me. It's a spring loaded speed dispenser. Holds twelve of these bad boys. When you pull an interrupter out, the motion automatically arms it and the spring pushes the next one up. I just love toys."

  Montag asked, "Is there anything else?"

  Mission said, "Yeah. I always wear the battery pack. It's clipped to my rear waistband with the lead wire snaked through the coat, out the left arm. A pressure activated switch at the end of the lead feeds into my palm. Tripping the switch releases 20,000 volts."

  He turned and looked at the group. "Let's remember that we don't trust this guy. The less we say to him, the less our chances of giving something away. Carson or I will always stay within arm's reach of him. Susan and Montag, be conscious of your body position and never step between the Dick and me or Carson. Okay? Now I know we just sat here and went over all these weapons and now I'm going to point you in the other direction. Don't use them. Don't use them unless you have to defend the safety of the group. We don't want to be trigger happy. We want to be vigilant against an attack. Now if any of you are familiar with Murphy's Law, then you know nothing will happen since we spent so much time preparing. Let's go."

  Carson and Montag moved out of the room first and as Mission started out, Susan grabbed his hand. When he turned around, she kissed him hard on the mouth and said, "Mission ... I love you."

  Mission looked at her and then held her face in his hands. "I love you too, Susan. This is gonna be okay."

  The group reached the cafeteria to find Denman with his feet up on the table, getting a shoulder rub from a pleasure model who was dressed more appropriately for a lingerie party. Mission nodded and said, "Denman."

  Denman looked the group over carefully and then shook his head. "What? You guys couldn't find an ion cannon? Or maybe an Armored Personnel Carrier?"

  Carson said, "Well this was kinda short notice."

  "Yeah. Well, careful is always okay with me." Then he leered at Susan and said, "Dr. St. Jean, may I say you look good enough to eat?"

  Mission tensed but then realized Susan could handle Denman. As she walked past, she virtually spat out, "Pig!"

  Denman turned and spread his hands saying, "You say it like it's a bad thing."

  He turned to the rest of the group and said, "We might as well get moving. You'd better watch out Mission, she's crazy about me."

  Mission stared at him silently and then they headed for the refinery.

  It was a twenty minute walk in almost complete silence. As they finally entered the hallway that led to the refinery entrance, Denman took the lead. He marched up to the access panel and the group tightened up around him. Denman rubbed his hands together and said, "Nothing prepares you to break passwords like serving a couple of years in Security Division. They teach you everything about encryption."

  Pierce looked on doubtfully and said, "You're sure those bay doors aren't gonna open and suck us right out of the city?"

  Denman grinned his lascivious grin and said, "Hey. Don't worry. You stick with me and we'll all get what we came for and be up to our knees in hookers in an hour."

  Susan said, "Montag, I want a ruling. Do we have to claim him as part of the human race?"

  The vue screen flashed back at Denman with, "Access granted. Safety first. Switch to pressure suit environment and press enter when ready."

  The door hissed as the seal released and Denman pulled it open with a flourish. The group moved inside and got a first look at the bay. It was three stories high, and each story was 15 feet tall, with catwalks all the way around on the second and third levels, except for the bay doors. The doors climbed all the way to the ceiling, forty-five feet, and were a total of eighty feet wide. The room was octagon shaped with the doors covering two of the sides. Apparently, the transport vehicle pulled right into the bay and then loaded the ore directly onto conveyor belts which ran to the actual refinery.

  Down on the floor rested a medium sized bulldozer, a small power shovel, a forklift and odds and ends of machinery and supplies. Like everything else in the city, the bay was deserted. The group moved with more confidence and reached the midpoint of the room.

  Mission heard the whine of machinery and turned to see their entrance door close and lock. At the same time, a sharp crack shot across the bay and Susan screamed while Carson yelled to take cover. As Mission turned around, he could see sparks radiating off Denman and glimpsed something in his peripheral vision moving from left to right. As Mission grabbed Susan and dove behind the bulldozer, Carson returned fire while he moved toward the cover of the equipment. A shot caught him in the left shoulder and knocked him between the dozer and a group of 55 gallon drums.

  Mission fired several shots for cover as he retrieved Carson by the collar and dragged him to relative safety. The ambushers crept closer and closer to them on the catwalks, and Mission couldn't keep them all at bay. He saw Denman stretched out on the floor and then looked away. Most of his thoracic and abdominal cavities were burned away. Just gone. People talk all the time about dying instantly. It almost never happens. The brain has to oxygen starve for almost five minutes before it shuts down. Five minutes to realize the rest of you is gone. Five minutes to think about the fact that no one is going to drag you to cover, is going to mop your brow, is going to put a cigarette in your mouth even if you can't smoke it. He never had a chance. They killed him because he was first in line and it would distract the group long enough to lock down the exit.

  Mission got a clean shot at a male on the second catwalk and caught him in the face. He screamed but didn't go down. It would be next to impossible to put a combat model down at this range, unless you had the luxury of shooting them eight to ten times. Pierce screamed as Susan ran a scarf through his wound trying to clean out the burning phosphorous parti
cles. Where the hell was Montag? Mission pushed Susan's head down as the syns realized the group was helpless and stepped up their fire. The air crackled around them from the release of ionized particles as shots hit the dozer.

  Just when Mission thought it was hopeless, it got even worse. A deafening siren erupted and a computer voice announced that docking was initiated and the bay doors would open in two minutes. Of course. That's why they weren't dead already. The ambushers just wanted to pin them down until the doors opened. No matter how thorough the autopsies, they would never show any more than simple asphyxiation. A tragic accident. No one was sure how they got into the bay or why they opened the doors.

  Mission grabbed Carson. "I need cover. We can't drop these combat models fast enough with the guns. I need to shake hands with them."

  He pulled out an interrupter. Susan said, "He’s lost a lot of blood!"

  Carson pushed her aside and brought the Stiletto up. He tried to smile and said, "Say when."

  Mission plucked an ultrasound grenade off his shirt and rolled it behind the drums so the syns wouldn't shoot it. He looked at Susan and said, "Have extra clips ready for Car."

  He looked at Carson and said, "Don't shoot me."

  He grinned as Carson lit up the catwalks with his weapon set on automatic. Mission had never tried anything like this, but he argued with himself that such a fact was no reason to not try. He snuck a quick look down at his gravity shoes, nodded, and then exploded into a run. As he reached the bay doors he sped up and ran right up them and pulled a sweeping left turn to bring him above the second catwalk running full speed across the wall, parallel to the ground.

  The accursed computer voice told them that in one minute thirty seconds, they would all be well on their way to a funeral in space. It seemed everyone on the catwalks was frozen. Good. Humans sprinkled into the assault group would probably have killed him, even with Carson's fire which now focused on doing as much damage as possible on the opposite side of the room.