Counterattack

by Sigmund Brouwer

  Kurt laughed. “You weren’t around because you turned traitor. But you also missed hearing everything they told us about the death chips, didn’t you?”

  Ashley’s silence told him enough.

  “See,” he taunted, “the same satellite that beams our signals to the robots will also beam an activation signal anytime Stronsky or Jordan want. Just like a GPS, the signal will track you down. Then poof ! You’re dead.”

  “Not me,” Ashley said, with a little less certainty than before.

  “Of course you. We found out they didn’t implant the death chips when they put us in the jelly cylinders. No, they did it when they operated on us for the spinal plugs. All those years we never knew that little bomb was waiting inside us. Not until we watched half of us die. The half that you betrayed.

  “Yes, Ashley. We saw Stronsky push the button, and they died—in front of us. Just slowly fell and then stopped moving. In the morning, the same will happen to you. Justice will be served.”

  “Please,” I said intensely. “Listen to Ashley. She’s telling you the truth. She didn’t betray any of you.”

  “Then how did Stronsky know the ones who were planning to try to escape?”

  I had no answer for that. Neither did Ashley. But we knew the story couldn’t be true.

  “Then consider yourselves guilty,” Kurt insisted. “Okay, everyone. Time to vote. Here’s the plan of action. We tear the bot-packs off their robot bodies and disable them. In the morning, we report this to Dr. Jordan and let him activate the death chip. How many yes votes?”

  In the hazy blue, there was no movement behind him. Not at first. Then one hand went up. And another two. Another three.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out where this was headed. If we were still connected when the bot-packs were torn off our bodies, it could blow our own brain circuits. Sudden disconnection was far worse than any shock.

  “Ashley,” I said urgently, “we’d better go.”

  Without waiting for her to say anything, I shouted Stop! in my mind to release myself from robot control.

  And fell into darkness.

  CHAPTER 16

  Back in the jelly cylinder room, I shouted as I tore at my blindfold and headset. “Ashley! Ashley!”

  Finally clear of my blindfold, I saw her sitting against the wall, motionless.

  Nate and Cannon were gone. So were Michael and Joey.

  “Ashley!” I began to wheel toward her. “Ashley!”

  I knew she couldn’t hear me, not with her ears covered, but that didn’t stop me from shouting again. “Ashley!”

  Then I saw her hands move, and I let out a deep sigh of relief.

  As I reached her, she was taking off her own blindfold. She blinked her eyes a couple of times in order to focus on this room. And then she smiled.

  “Ashley.”

  “I’m back,” she said. “Where are the others?”

  “Not sure. But it explains why the three kids who returned didn’t get any help.” I pointed at the jelly cylinders where the intravenous tubes were pinched and tied with pieces of shoelace. “We’ve got to untie those tubes and get them all back to sleep again. And then figure something out in the remaining hours until Dr. Jordan wakes them up.”

  The other four returned about 10 minutes later, with Michael and Joey trailing the big men.

  “You’re back,” Cannon said. “I thought we agreed you were going to stay with all the other robots and try to find out what was planned next.”

  Ashley quickly filled them in.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said when she finished. “The truck is going to arrive at its destination, and you won’t be able to get back into your robots because they were disconnected.”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered for her. “I doubt we put them to sleep fast enough to prevent them from disconnecting the robot computers.”

  “And as soon as Dr. Jordan wakes them up and talks to them, he’ll learn about you two. And he’ll …” I could tell the general’s mind was racing ahead.

  “Yes, sir. If the death chip works like he says, Ashley’s chip will be activated.”

  “Michael.” The general turned to him. “Was everything Kurt told these two correct? Half of your group?”

  “Right in front of us,” Michael said, shivering. “Stronsky showed us his little remote. He let us watch him push the button. They all slowly fell down. And then some of the aides dragged them away. The next morning a bunch of younger kids were brought in to replace them. In the afternoon they put us in the jelly cylinders.”

  The general frowned. He turned his gaze back to me. “Why only Ashley’s death chip? Why not yours?”

  Mine? “Sir, I wasn’t part of this group of kids. My operation took place on Mars.”

  “What makes you assume Dr. Jordan doesn’t have a death chip implanted in you, too?”

  “I … I …” I couldn’t come up with an answer. Horror filled me as I understood. If the death chip were part of the operation, why wouldn’t it have been done to me, too?

  When the truck arrived at its destination, and as soon as Dr. Jordan woke up the robots and found out that Ashley and I had survived, he would press a little button and send a signal that would stop our hearts.

  Cannon closed his eyes, then opened them again. He spoke very quietly. “This changes things, doesn’t it?”

  CHAPTER 17

  I was back in the helicopter again at my unfolded compboard, with my system just booted. Yes, we were running out of time, and Ashley and I should have been doing something else. But what? Cannon, Nate, Joey, Michael, Ashley, and I had spent the last 45 minutes trying to come up with a solution.

  And we couldn’t decide on anything.

  I desperately wanted some good news.

  Like the fact that Rawling had read my e-mail and been able to reply.

  My comp-board had finally loaded and connected to the Internet. I stared glumly at my computer screen as I accessed Cannon’s e-mail account.

  Then I smiled as I read the first and only message. With all that had gone wrong, I at least knew now that I could trust Cannon.

  From: “Rawling McTigre”

  To: “General Jeb McNamee”

  Sent: 03.31.2040, 12:05 a.m.

  Subject: Re: Please read this right away!

  Tyce,

  When you banged your robot head during that expedition, I said it was as hard as your own stubborn skull and that you were so used to banging it against things that you no longer needed any pills for a headache.

  Yes, it’s me. And I’m so relieved to hear from you. The real you.

  Yes, I had been getting responses to the e-mails I’d been sending you, but they were strange responses and I was beginning to wonder if it really was you. In fact, during the last week I had a trusted computer programmer go through the mainframe, and he found the secret programming that allowed someone in the dome to intercept all the messages. It’s a long story—one that I want to tell you when you get back—but right now I’m playing cat and mouse, sending real e-mails with one program and fake e-mails with the other program. I’m hoping to find out who here on Mars is secretly logging on to the mainframe.

  In short, you can trust this message. I wish I could do more than this though. Your e-mail brought up too many disturbing questions, and I’m 50 million miles away.

  By the urgency of your message, I hope and expect you will check your e-mail soon. I’ve dropped everything here and am waiting in front of my computer screen for your reply to this. (I’ve printed out your Moon Racer journal and will read it as I wait so that I’ll be as up-to-date as possible.)

  I know there is a time lag, but as soon as I get your next e-mail, I’ll send you one back. It will be the closest thing we can have to a live conversation.

  And, Tyce? I’ll be praying too.

  Your friend,

  Rawling

  P.S. I don’t want to say anything to your mother u
ntil I know as much as possible. I’m worried enough. She’ll go through the roof of the dome unless I can answer all her questions.

  It gave me strength to know that Rawling was waiting. So I began to type.

  From: “General Jeb McNamee”

 

  To: “Rawling McTigre”

  Sent: 03.31.2040, 12:26 a.m.

  Subject: Got it

  Rawling! Thanks! Just sending this to let you know I’ve read your e-mail. During the lag for this to reach you and your next message to reach me, I’ll put together a longer one with more details and send it ASAP.

  Your friend,

  Tyce

  I hit send. Then I immediately began to explain all that I could in a longer e-mail. I knew I had about 20 minutes before I heard back from Rawling.

  There wasn’t much good news. Actually, there wasn’t any good news. Starting with the fact that my dad had disappeared from prison, and that now, even if we stopped Dr. Jordan, I wouldn’t know how to find Dad.

  Here, Cannon and Nate had gone searching for the transmitter with Michael and Joey. That’s why they were gone when the three kids tried to verify Ashley’s story. The bad news was that they hadn’t been able to find the transmitter in the darkness.

  Nate had suggested that since Ashley and I could no longer secretly work among the robot soldiers, we should just unplug all the kids from their jelly cylinders. That way none of the robots would be operational, and Dr. Jordan wouldn’t hear about Ashley and me from any of the other kids.

  Cannon then told us he was about to make the most difficult decision he’d ever made as a general. That he couldn’t do that, even if it would save our lives. Then he explained why.

  Since they couldn’t find the transmitter here on the mountain, he would have to call in for Combat Force surveillance to use three of their satellites to triangulate the signals from here to Dr. Jordan’s receiving satellite. Because this required three Combat Force satellites, it would take hours for all of them to be in the required positions. Then, once they were in position, we’d need exactly 20 minutes to triangulate the location.

  When I asked why Dr. Jordan’s satellite was so important, Cannon said there were thousands of satellites in orbit. They’d have to find it first. Once they did, they could pull it in and find out where it had been sending and receiving other signals, because that would allow the Combat Force to find all the other pods of kids.

  Timing was crucial then. I pointed out that Dr. Jordan might move the army so quickly that the robot soldiers would be in position to kill immediately. Cannon’s solution was to have someone call him at the first sign of trouble, at which he would unplug the kids here and shut down their robot control. That was not good. Being shocked into disconnection was bad enough. But to be unplugged without warning …

  It meant that in worst-case scenario some of the kids would die, and most of them would suffer brain damage. The time to unplug them was before they went into control mode. Once their brains were actively engaged with the robot computer, any short circuit or disconnection caused brutal damage.

  Just as I finished putting all of this into my e-mail, my computer chirped, telling me I had mail. I held off on sending my message and opened and scanned what Rawling had sent me.

  From: “Rawling McTigre”

  To: “General Jeb McNamee”

  Sent: 03.31.2040, 12:55 a.m.

  Subject: Waiting at my computer

  All right, Tyce, send me what you have. Hopefully I won’t have many questions, and hopefully I can answer any questions you have for me.

  Rawling

  Questions for him? Sure. Like how Ashley and I might stop Dr. Jordan from activating our death chips. Or how Cannon might stop Jordan after he had killed us by activating our death chips. I didn’t word it exactly like that, but I hoped I got the message across. I just finished my e-mail by asking Rawling to offer any suggestions, and most of all, to continue to pray for us. I also sent a hug through him to my mom. I knew she’d be terribly worried once she found out about this.

  I sent this message and began my wait again. As the minutes ticked by with incredible slowness, I decided to write another e-mail. This one to my mother. To tell her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me.

  I held off on sending the e-mail, though, because I knew it would make her too sad.

  Somewhere inside me, I still had a little hope. Maybe Rawling would think of something we had missed.

  His next message arrived exactly 20 minutes later.

  From: “Rawling McTigre”

  To: “General Jeb McNamee”

  Sent: 03.31.2040, 1:15 a.m.

  Subject: Re: The whole story

  Tyce,

  I’ve received your e-mail. Hang tight on your end while I think things through.

  Rawling

  I hung tight. And exactly one hour later, his next e-mail arrived. It showed that, yes, Rawling had thought things through.

  I called for Grunt, the helicopter pilot, to help me down to the ground and into my wheelchair.

  And I rolled as fast as I could back toward the jelly cylinders.

  CHAPTER 18

  “Ugly and weird. We drove 36 hours to deliver these?”

  We were glad for that 36 hours. Without that one extra day of travel, Ashley and I would probably be so sleep deprived we’d never have a chance to succeed.

  After getting that e-mail from Rawling, it had been a lot easier to return from the helicopter to the general. Cannon could be trusted. So I’d told him everything.

  We’d come up with a plan.

  Then we’d slept, since Cannon insisted rested soldiers were effective soldiers.

  After waking, almost at noon the next day, all of us had waited in suspense as Cannon had found some trusted people in the military to begin a search for the moving truck. It was a next-to-impossible chance to find it but worth trying, because then we could stop the robot soldiers with no risk.

  Instead, the hours had dragged on while we got everything ready that we could. Then Cannon had insisted that Ashley and I sleep again. He’d woken us up at midnight, and she and I had been controlling the robot bodies in the trailer ever since.

  Just waiting for the truck to stop.

  Which was now.

  The truck driver had opened the door to the trailer. He spoke to his assistant, who stood beside him. They looked similar. Shaved heads, skinny, in leather jackets and blue jeans. Both puffed on cigarettes as they surveyed the robots. Including the new ones that Ashley and I now controlled.

  “No wonder that muscle freak left us alone to do this,” his helper agreed. They stood on a warehouse dock. Nothing in the background gave any clues as to where we had stopped after hours in the trailer among the motionless robots. “These are really, really ugly. Really, really weird. Like a bunch of stick insects I seen on the Nature Channel accidentally one night when I was looking for music videos. What do you call them? Paving mantras?”

  The first part of our plan had been the simplest. Since robots 17 and 23 had disconnected computers, Cannon and Nate had helped two other kids out of jelly cylinders and Ashley and I had replaced them. I was now Number 9, and Ashley was 16. Back in the desert mountains, those kids were out of their jelly cylinders and happy to be moving around normally.

  “Paving Mantras?” the driver said. “I ain’t heard of that rock band.”

  “Not a rock band. That’s the name of those stick insects. Paving mantras.”

  “Paying mantras is more like it,” the driver said, flicking ashes. “We’ve never made easier money. Keys were in the truck like the guy on the phone said. Map was waiting. And for a change, New York traffic wasn’t bad.”

  “You’ve never been up before 10 in the morning,” the second guy said. “Of course you wouldn’t know what the streets are like this early.”

  The
first man sucked hard on his cigarette and grinned. “Still haven’t been up before 10 in the morning.”

  “Huh?”

  “Haven’t gone to sleep yet. But as soon as we unload these creepy things, I’m gonna spend a wad of money on a fancy hotel room and sleep and sleep. Driving all night ain’t my idea of a good time. I’m gonna get up only to order room service and fill my face. How does that sound?”

  “Me,” the second guy put in, “I’ve got a list of horses that can’t lose. I’m taking my money and tripling it at the racetracks.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Got those directions that were under the mat? Remember, the guy said the money would be waiting for us in the storage room where we deliver these.”

  “I got the directions. You got the keys and passwords to get into this building?”

  “Yup. Good thing,” the first guy said. He threw his cigarette down. “You know them governors are meeting at some kind of summit around here. I don’t think you could get into any of these buildings without a password for the security pads.”

  “Yeah. That voice on the phone must be well connected.”

  “He’s got money. You got money, you got connections.”

  It was the second guy’s turn to grin. “I guess then you and me have now got connections.”

  One by one they began to lift out the robots in front of Ashley and me. I noticed that 17 and 23 had loose wires dangling where the bot-packs had been ripped away. Neither the driver nor his assistant noticed, however. They treated those two robots like the others. Once on the dock they rolled each one out of sight. I couldn’t see where they went, but they weren’t gone long between each robot, and Ashley and I didn’t dare speak to each other.

  The trailer was empty of robots before they reached ours.

  “What do you think these things do?” the second guy asked, picking up the robot that Ashley controlled.

  The first guy shrugged. “Got to be for some kind of science-fiction movie. You know, just another story where something attacks someone in New York City.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Someone in movies has the kind of money to call us up and tell us where to find this truck. I mean, all of it was right there like he promised.”