by James Somers
But not every girl hid the kind of secret Sarah fostered. The image of herself in white was supplanted by one of her lying face down in her New Rome apartment bleeding out on the floor with a shadowy assassin, like Nightstalker, hovering over his kill. One did not leave Babylon so easily, matrimony or not.
Sarah started to tear up as she looked into Jason’s kind eyes. The expectation of her saying “yes” obviously tormented him. He waited for her reply, but she couldn’t give him one—not yet. Jason took the ring out of the case, nervously placing it on her finger. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and furthered his query. “Please say yes, Sarah.”
She looked at the ring, a symbol of his commitment to her, then back into his hopeful eyes. “Jason, I love you. I only want to be sure when I tell you my answer.”
It wasn’t what he had hoped to hear. The letdown pained his expression.
“Please, Jason, I have a business trip this coming week. When it’s concluded I’ll give you my answer, all right?”
“All right.”
“Good. Now, let’s enjoy our time together. These weekends pass much too quickly for me.”
They smiled at one another and raised their glasses. Sarah sipped the wine, hoping she would be alive to give him the answer he wanted.
ASSIGNMENT
Four days passed after Jason watched Sarah’s private flight leave from the Zurich Airport. They had gained an extra two days because of flight delays due to a meteor that had come down in the North Atlantic over the weekend. The resulting blast and tsunami it touched off had killed hundreds of thousands of people up and down the eastern coasts of North and South America and western coasts of Africa and the European nations. A great percentage of sea going vessels had apparently been destroyed, either en route or in ports along the affected coastlines.
It was a devastating natural disaster, and all flights had been cancelled or delayed for several days. But life continued on and Jason and Sarah were glad for the time together. Sarah had not mentioned the proposal even once while they were together, but she had kept the ring on her finger. He decided that was better than the alternative. Jason wondered briefly if her hesitation was due to being suspicious of whom he really was, but that was impossible.
Jason had opted to remain in Zurich at his palatial home. Travel had been greatly restricted due to the natural disaster and further scientific community warnings that another portion of the original meteor could still get pulled in by Earth’s gravity.
Jason added the finishing touches to a double-decker ham and roast beef sandwich. He watched Alfred sitting with perfect posture in front of the net display. Images of the meteor strike flooded every news broadcast, and Alfred eagerly soaked it all in.
The H7 robot never flinched from his viewing as Jason came into the large open living room and sat down on another sofa perpendicular to where Alfred sat.
“It’s a good thing we don’t live on the coast, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. We would likely not have survived.”
It seemed funny to Jason, hearing Alfred talk as though he were alive. “How many are they saying, so far?”
“Seven hundred thousand dead, but that is only an approximation, sir. Actual figures always tend to run higher, by the time all is said and done.”
Jason mumbled his agreement through a mouthful of his sandwich, trying to chew and breathe at the same time. “This is great, Alfred, you should have one.”
Alfred raised an eyebrow, then returned to his viewing. A number like Seven hundred thousand simply did not sink in for Jason. The magnitude of human loss and suffering was so far away that it didn’t really register. The victims, still fighting for survival, could just as easily have been on another planet. His life remained basically unaffected, beyond the inconvenience of restricted public transportation.
An image of the ocean near the impact site caught his attention. “What’s all the red stuff in the water?”
“Scientists believe that the meteor may have been pulverized against the ocean floor, resulting in its fragmentation and diffusion through the water. They believe it may be toxic, possibly radioactive.”
“You gotta hate that.”
“Yes, sir, I believe they do.”
Jason started to take a drink of wine from a glass he had breathing on the stone coffee table, but was interrupted by chiming in his ear. Alfred immediately turned in response, though the sound was far too discreet to be heard by human ears.
Jason spoke to the implant computer. “Receive.”
“Nightstalker, load up to the war room in one hour.”
“Acknowledged.” He didn’t know to whom, exactly, he spoke. Babylon always operated this way. The transmission ended.
Alfred stood. “Another mission, sir?”
Jason finished off the glass of wine. “I suppose so.”
“I’ll ready our transportation then.”
“This might be a new record, Alfred. They usually wait at least another day before cutting my leave short.”
The war room was a virtual room where Jason usually met his handler to be briefed on upcoming missions. He looked forward to seeing Sarah, even if she didn’t appear as herself and didn’t realize whom it was she was briefing. Jason wondered if she had made a decision yet regarding his proposal. And if she had, how to proceed?
Once he loaded to the World Mind, into the secure virtual location of the war room, Jason immediately noticed that someone other than Sarah was waiting for him. It was a man, waiting in a seat on the other side of a map-station table. The new handler was in disguise, to be sure, but Sarah had never appeared at their meetings as a man.
“Sit down, Nightstalker.” A masculine voice—definitely not his Sarah—something was wrong.
Jason walked to the chair on his side of the map-station table in his own virtual disguise as a nice looking black man and took his seat. “You aren’t the usual handler.”
The man ignored Jason’s statement. “We have a situation in Jerusalem that needs your special attention, Nightstalker.” A global map appeared on the map-station suspended in the air above the table. It quickly rotated, zooming in on Israel, with a red marker identifying the city of Jerusalem.
“Does this have to do with those two Christian prophets near the Temple Mount?”
“Not exactly. The city of Jerusalem has become the main base for the Christian underground, especially because of those two religious figures and the military’s inability to eliminate them. But our target is the leader of the Christian underground, Solomon Gauge.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
The new handler stifled a laugh. “I’m not surprised. He’s not running around announcing himself. Gauge is a preacher, a wanted man for many reasons. He’s now been in contact with a mole working within Babylon.”
A mole within Babylon—Jason’s suspicions had now been confirmed. Someone with access to classified information might spill all manner of nasty secrets about Babylon’s doings, or even provide information on its agents to other countries that might get him and his men killed. They were probably even responsible for Jerome’s death. “Who is the mole?”
“That’s none of your concern at this time. Their identity is unimportant. What you do need to know is that we are assured a meeting will take place between Solomon Gauge and the mole. Your team will be in place to take out both targets.”
Another image replaced the global map. It zoomed in on a section of the city, specifically to a street and some businesses there.
The new handler pointed to a business on the map. “The meeting will take place at this café.”
“Are you sure this information is reliable?”
“We have kept a very careful eye on our mole. We heard her arrange the time and place by way of a private coded channel—it’s reliable.”
Coded and private meant absolutely nothing where Babylon was involved. “When is this meeting?”
“Two days from now. You will rendezvous with the
rest of your team in New Rome then leave for Jerusalem. We want your team in place well ahead of time.”
Jason stood up. “No problem.”
“Nightstalker, we want this one done from a distance, neat and clean. Gauge is a dangerous man.”
Jason stifled a laugh. “I thought you said he’s just a preacher.”
“I told you he’s a preacher. I didn’t say he was an ordinary preacher. Like I said, ‘neat and clean, from a distance.’”
“Yes, sir, we’ll take care of it.”
“The rest of the particulars will be waiting with your equipment when you catch up to your team in New Rome. You’re dismissed.”
Jason turned from his chair and spoke to the interface. “Disconnect.” His disguised image faded from the war room, leaving the handler alone. The handler stood as the image of the Jerusalem café disappeared from the map-station. His disguise faded, leaving Wraith standing in his place. He laughed under his breath. “Disconnect.”
Babylon had its own way of arranging necessary flights, despite any restrictions that may have been in place across Alliance air space. Jason and Alfred had taken his private plane on an unregistered flight out of Zurich, south to New Rome. Alfred piloted the jet, while Jason got some much needed rest before he set out on this new mission.
“Are we there, yet?” Jason came up to the cockpit and sat next to Alfred at the controls.
“We’re coming in on approach, right now. Did the turbulence wake you?”
“I was ready to get up, anyway.” Jason Yawned. “Anything new coming in over the wire?”
“More information has come through about the meteor impact. The pollution coming from the fragment is spreading rapidly across the Atlantic, destroying all sea life in its path.”
“All of the war and natural disasters have brought about so much starvation and death already. This is really going to make it worse.”
“And I wondered if I was disadvantaged, not being human.”
Jason gave his servant a look, advising the humor wasn’t appropriate at the moment.
Alfred became serious again. “Still, that may not be the worst of it, sir.”
“What do you mean, what else is happening?”
“Alliance satellite networks are currently tracking another meteor fragment. At its current trajectory it will break orbit, spiraling in somewhere over Russia.”
Jason stretched. “At least it’s not Alliance territory.”
“The calculations are not exact. The slightest change could make for a different impact site. At any rate, the timing is what concerns me, sir. Your team will be en route to Jerusalem during that time. Being in the air anywhere over Eurasia could be dangerous when that thing comes tearing through the atmosphere. All commercial and military traffic is currently on hold because of it.”
“Noted, Alfred, but we have our orders, don’t we?”
Alfred surrendered. “Yes, sir.”
“The team will already be waiting. Give me some help loading my gear onto the transport plane, then go ahead to the rendezvous point as planned.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alfred completed the landing in New Rome with effortless precision. The international airport lay barren of the normally heavy congestion on its runways—nothing except the highest priority flights was going anywhere until the next meteor fragment hit. Alfred taxied the private jet into one of the large military hangars specially designated for Jason’s team as a staging area.
The massive doors slid back to allow Nightstalker’s plane inside then the doors closed again. Jason finished suiting up as the plane came to a stop. When he emerged from his compartment, Alfred opened the hatch. He appeared in his normal H7 Counterpart form.
Only Soulman had known about Alfred’s special upgrades and onboard perceptor tech. Jason intended for it to remain a secret. Jason carried some of his satchels and exited the plane.
“I’ll get the other gear, sir.” Alfred walked back to Jason’s compartment.
When Jason walked out onto the hangar floor, two men greeted him wearing uniforms similar to his own. “Nightstalker, how are you, amigo?”
“Doing well, Hatter, and you?”
Agent Mad Hatter was a stocky Latino man with midnight black hair cropped in the military style. His thin, neatly kept goatee curled around the smile that usually lived on his face. “Itching for some action, as always, my friend.”
Jason didn’t recognize the man with Mad Hatter, but he wore a perceptor tech uniform just the same. He looked very young and inexperienced, maybe a bit out of his element. The young agent stood about five feet ten inches, clean shaven, with buzzed, sandy hair. He might have been a heartthrob in another setting, but among these seasoned agents, he just seemed like a scared kid.
“Oh hey, Nightstalker, this is Agent Rogue. Charlie assigned him to our team as a replacement for Soulman. Rogue, this is our boss-man, Nightstalker.”
Agent Rogue saluted stiffly, something none of them ever did to one another. Jason sized the young man up in an instant. He was maybe twenty-two years old and looked as green to special ops as a new born baby. His old man was probably a general somewhere who had called in the right favors to get his son moved up the ladder to this high paying special ops squad.
Junior had some fear behind his eyes. This was probably his first time on an assignment like this, and if he flubbed it up daddy might be disappointed. Jason half returned the salute. “At ease, Rogue.” Jason glanced at Hatter and rolled his eyes.
“Oh man, Rogue, I told you, we don’t get all uptight on this team. Just be cool.” Hatter patted him on the shoulder.
“Oh, right, sorry, sir.” Rogue tried to look like he was relaxing, even if it wasn’t true.
Jason extended his right hand to the young man. “Just do your job, Rogue, and everything will be fine.” Rogue took his hand and shook it firmly.
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“That’s all I’ll ever ask.”
“Rogue is a systems man,” Hatter bragged.
“Oh really, in what field?”
Rogue replied with a smile. “Virtual systems, counter security systems and robotics.”
Jason was impressed, but he didn’t want to appear impressed. “Robotics?”
“Actually, I specialized in A.I. engineering. I see you’ve got an old H7 Counterpart.” Rogue motioned to Alfred coming out of the plane with some equipment satchels.
“Oh yes, that’s old Alfred.” Jason tried to stifle his amusement. He knew Alfred had heard the remarks, but the robot held his peace. The old reference had to be eating him up.
Hatter intervened. “Don’t worry, Rogue, Alfred is as good as any newer model. I bet Nightstalker’s probably upgraded him with more than a few surprises up his sleeve—ain’t that right, Alfred?”
“A classic never goes out of style, Mr. Hatter,” Alfred replied.
Rogue watched the robot with fascination. “Hey, that’s really good. Who did his A.I?”
Jason grinned. “That’s classified.”
“Yeah, if he told you then he’d have to kill you.” Hatter slapped Rogue on the back playfully.
Rogue tried a nervous smile, seeming every bit the new guy.
Hatter whispered to Jason behind his hand. “Hey, Boss, if Rogue is as good as they say maybe he could replace mean ole’ Wraith.”
A shiny steel blade whipped around Hatter’s throat, taking up a guard position across his carotid. Wraith’s face slid in next to Hatter’s ear. “Now, Hatter, you know you’d hate to see me go.”
Hatter shrugged him off, more annoyed by Wraith’s ability to sneak up on him than by his comment. Jason barely regarded them. Hatter and Wraith were generally happier when they were bickering with one another.
Wraith flipped the knife over in his hand, sliding it elegantly back into its sheath on his right leg. “Don’t listen to them, kid, the Wraith always comes out on top. You’ll do well to stick close to the guy who knows how to come home in one piece.”
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Rogue clearly didn’t know what to think of the exchange.
Jason interrupted. “All right, men, we’ve still got work to do. Wraith, you’ll be flying the bird. Get her fired up and ready to go. Hatter, you and Rogue will give me updates and a briefing of the mission details once we’re airborne.”
Hatter snapped to. “You got it, Boss.” The team got down to business.
Wraith prepped the team’s private jet, which was slightly larger than Jason’s, and they were soon ready for departure. Jason gave Alfred a few last minute instructions then joined the others onboard the jet. In a few hours they would be deep inside Israel running on adrenaline and finely honed instincts to get the job done and get out, just as they had done countless times before.
Jason’s thoughts lingered on his return from this mission and his next encounter with Sarah. What would her answer be? Out of all of the fearful possibilities he might face in the next few days that one thing worried him the most.
JACOB STEIN
August 23, 2094
The head of the Council for World Unity and Faith, Jacob Stein, sat at his console reading the updates from his lab. He sipped on a mug of imported coffee never taking his eyes from the display as the new data poured onto the screen from the latest tests. Jacob and his control room were separated from a larger chamber by thick shatter-proof glass. His assistant, Aleister Scire, a thin English gentleman of fifty, three worked another panel inside the chamber. His thinning white hair looked unwashed. Aleister’s clothes were wrinkled with a slept-in appearance like he hadn’t bothered to leave the lab in days.
Aleister spoke through an intercom. “How’s it looking from in there, Jacob?”
“Very good. He’s responding wonderfully to the cortical stimuli. Go ahead, increase the intensity a little more. I want to see if we can induce R.E.M. yet.”
Within the chamber, a large cylinder lay horizontally on its side. Inside the cylinder was a man. He floated within a pink chemical soup. A high-tech endotracheal tube fed oxygen to his body. The man had no clothing, no consciousness and no soul.