Controller

by Stephen W Bennett

  Repeating what he did before, Grayson placed his head close to the man and shouted in his left ear, “Don’t listen, Mike. Ignore him. Think for yourself!”

  Gorka winced and raised his left hand to his ear as he pulled away to lean against the unpowered escalator handrail.

  “OK, it’s not infiltrating into my mind now, and I could hit him with a rock if he were standing in the open. Could you try just saying it softly next time? I don’t want to require a hearing aid as well as a crutch after working with you. I don’t even speak when I Compel someone, you know.”

  “Is that how you Compel someone? Minus the shouting, I mean. How did I get that ability?”

  “No, I didn’t receive any outside thoughts that I can attribute to you at all. But the thoughts I know now were coming from that Controller changed character as soon as you shouted at me. From you, it isn’t what I feel from other Complellers when we test one another. The incoming foreign thoughts from Agent-X simply stopped feeling like they were my thoughts, and became separate and directional. I still sense him just across the street, but they are certainly not my thoughts now. I have never sensed the thoughts of anyone as not my own. Brogan and our other Immunes do, and you have directionality and range detection. Somehow you gave me your ability briefly.

  “Before, when I received what I now know were Agent-X’s thoughts, they were my thoughts, and it becomes overwhelming for me to act on them. I can’t help but do what my mind and willpower say is what I should do. It’s almost instinctive, like running from a fire.

  “No other Compeller has ever had that effect on me, or me on them. You seemed to have broadcast your Immune capability. I’ve never heard of an Immune that was able to do that. Maybe no one ever tried, since we didn’t think there was anything in the signal.”

  “I’m stronger than he is with his transmitter? Why is that?”

  “I don’t think you’re stronger, just much closer and thus more effective. You were inches from my head, and he’s across the street. And it doesn’t last long. My foot is feeling better, and I’m starting to want to run that way.” He pointed where the other puppets had gone, and where gunfire was now sounding. The foil shielded men were not going down without a fight, and innocent people were dying.

  Grayson tried an experiment. He stood close and thought, don’t listen to him, Mike. Ignore him.

  Gorka nodded his approval. “It worked, and you didn’t deafen me by yelling. I don’t know what words you sent me, but his signal suddenly felt external to my mind. Let’s get below street level before your command fades again. Since I can feel the transition when his external thoughts start to fade and become mine, I should be able to warn you. If I act odd, send your command anyway.”

  With the power off in the station, a precaution the city had apparently taken, it meant the men had to walk down the escalators. In Gorka’s case, he sat with his left butt cheek on a rubber handrail, and with Grayson’s help, scooted down the slip resistant surface. Twice forced to shift to the other side handrail, turning the other cheek, so to speak, when the heat from friction grew too uncomfortable on one side of his butt.

  At Level 1, emergency lights allowed them to see the customer service area, and there were signs and corridors they could take and a map of the station. Gorka’s familiarity with other subway systems directed Grayson to a wide corridor that crossed over the train line at lower Level 2. Where they were, on the opposite side of the street from Agent-X, and underground, Mike was well below the NK agent’s signal. The men parted company, but not before Grayson tried a couple of simple tests.

  One test was to see if they could sense the mental commands they were sure the Controller was still be using. Grayson sensed nothing, and Mike didn’t need a refresher command to ignore the thoughts that couldn’t reach him.

  The other improvised test was when they each pulled out their satellite phones and confirmed neither man acquired a signal. Then they tried the transceivers Malfoy gave them, with the same result. No signal. They were well shielded.

  “Wait here, Mike. I’ll come back for you. If I acquire that transmitter and antenna helmet, we can see if it will work for you. That would help us get out of here.”

  “Good luck, and watch out for his puppets, both those under his direct control and those that have implanted commands. They’ll die to protect him if he commands that, and he’s done that repeatedly.”

  “Right.”

  Grayson walked to the next corridor on the other side of the street, and under the Korean script on walls and overhead signs, he found the word Exit in English, with arrows. He’d passed darkened display wall panels and small shops, lit only by the emergency lighting system along the walkways. It was much like a small shopping district down here. If the customers and employees had gone to the surface when the power was switched off, they were now part of the defensive brigade the NK agent had formed around himself.

  He walked only a short distance before he picked up traces of specific commands from the NK agent, but without his having a feeling for a clear direction, other than ahead of him along the same corridor. Logically, he knew the man was a few stories higher than Grayson was now, but there was distortion in the distance and direction he sensed down here, with reflections from walls, and total absorption in a direct line to the source of the radiation at the surface.

  When the crowd commands he sensed grew stronger, Grayson moved more cautiously towards the source. He walked softly, and stayed to the sides of the corridor, and ducked into locked storefront entrances while he checked ahead. Coming down here was probably part of Agent-X’s improvised escape route, and he’d have protected his back door.

  Catching sight of the escalators that served the small subway entrance opposite the one where he entered, he saw a motionless figure, sitting on the floor behind a potted decoration, a large container of green looking artificial ferns that seemed out of place so close to the base of the escalators. It had been moved there by someone for their concealment.

  It appeared to be a middle-aged woman, sitting cross-legged on the floor, with something laying across her lap. When Grayson studied the black object, not easy to identify in the dimmer emergency lights, he saw it extended beyond her knee. He suddenly recognized what it was. It matched the butt of the policeman’s rifle he carried.

  She didn’t look very threatening, but a gun was a great equalizer. It might only be the sound of gunfire from her that would be Agent-X’s signal of someone approaching him from below. Grayson didn’t see any way to approach her without being seen, and if she was going to shoot at him, it might as well be his weapon that Agent-X heard.

  He stayed on the left side as he moved towards her, which made better use of the potted decoration between them, and a shadowy gap between the dim emergency lights. She was slightly backlit by the waning sunlight that filtered down the escalator tunnel. After sunset would likely be when Agent-X would try to find a way out of Seoul. He may have originally planned on using a train before they shut off the power.

  Movement on his right caught his eye as an old man, squatting in a recessed doorway, raised an assault rifle to his shoulder. Grayson dove to the floor as shots rang out, the slugs just passing over his prone body, and he sprayed the alcove with a half dozen rounds, knocking the old man back. The rifle flew out of the man's hands when the back of his head sprayed blood and brains on the door behind him.

  Pivoting quickly on the floor, he could see the woman was now standing beside the false fern. Apparently, the movement of the old man had drawn her attention first because that’s where she was carelessly aiming. Holding the weapon only waist high, she turned towards Grayson. He fired off another half-dozen shots before she could pull her trigger, or perhaps she’d not released the safety. She fell back near the bottom of the motionless up escalator, the rifle sliding out of her hands.

  There was no chance the loudly reverberating sounds of automatic rifle fire wouldn’t reach street level. The NK agent had been standing right at t
he top of the escalators. If he fled now at street level, surrounded by a few thousand puppets, Grayson would never get to him. It was doubtful Agent-X would make good on his escape on the surface, but that transmitter and helmet would go with him.

  Watching for another ambusher, Grayson ran towards the escalators, hoping to catch a curious NK agent looking down the slope, trying to see if his puppets had protected his back door. He might have a brief window of opportunity to kill him, despite the distance. His plan changed as he ran, and he sensed Agent-X’s command.

  Move to where I can see you at the bottom and turn your back to me.

  It might prove suicidal, but Grayson stopped just past the dead woman and turned to face towards the dim lit corridor, holding the rifle horizontally across his body below his belt, arms hanging down.

  He waited an agonizing few seconds for bullets to tear into his back, but as he hoped when he sensed the command, it was his obedience the Controller had wanted, not his life.

  If there are people in silver suits down there, shoot them.

  Grayson didn’t move.

  Shoot anyone with you, or drop your rifle if you are alone.

  The sound of the rifle striking the floor rang loudly in Grayson’s ears, and he glanced down, moving only his eyes, to see the open and dead eyes of the middle-aged woman he’d just killed. Then looked over at the crumpled old man he’d shot first. Guilt would come later, he knew, but hundreds, if not thousands of South Koreans may already have died as a result of this agent's callous actions.

  Kick the rifle away, and sit on the steps.

  Grayson’s foot sent the rifle sliding into the darkness, and he stepped back two paces to sit on the lowest risers where the steps began to elevate.

  There were sounds of multiple feet descending from above, and he felt the vibrations through his butt. He’s sending puppets, he thought.

  Then from well above and behind him, he heard someone speaking in Korean, and it seemed like a question. He stayed still. They repeated, with more words added, to which Grayson remained silent. Next, he learned who had spoken.

  If you are not Korean, raise your left hand.

  Grayson did.

  There was a sudden shuffling of feet upslope before there was a more urgent seeming command. If you have another gun raise both hands.

  Grayson was certain Agent-X had just placed a few more people between them, but he raised both hands over his head.

  Make the gun safe and toss it behind you.

  Grayson reached into his right jacket pocket and heard the sound of a rifle bolt sliding somewhere behind him. He was careful to move slowly but intended to follow the instructions to the letter. He held the weapon and made certain a loud click sound was heard, and then tossed the now safe pistol back over his head and heard it clatter on the metal steps.

  He sensed a command not directed to himself. Get the gun and aim it at that man.

  The sounds of a puppet’s feet pattered down the steps, and the scraping of their grabbing the pistol behind him told him they had recovered the weapon. Then he received another command directed to that puppet. If he turns around, shoot him.

  This Compeller had never encountered a double Immune, or possibly any Immune. He didn’t know Grayson sensed directed commands intended for other people. A group command then ordered the other puppets with Agent-X to follow him down the steps. There seemed to be rather a lot of them. He was still using the maximum transmitter power, probably to reach his puppet slaves still up on the street.

  A flashlight came on, the beam flashing around, presumably held by Agent-X. When the source of the beam reached Grayson at the base of the escalator, it illuminated part of the side of his face. His western features would be obvious.

  Then he sensed a command directed to himself, that if obeyed should get him killed, and he was certain it was due to an oversight by the overstressed Agent-X. He hoped his ploy would work, and the gun the puppet held was the same one he’d made safe. He sent his thoughts to him, swallowed, stood up and turned around.

  A uniformed police officer was holding Gorka’s gun steady on Grayson’s head, but he had a strange expression on his face.

  Well, I ain’t dead, a relieved Grayson thought.

  He’d feared the man might blow his head off when Grayson did what he was ordered to do. Agent-X had commanded the puppet cop to shoot him if he turned around.

  Even with the NK agent a step behind the officer, looking over his puppet’s shoulder, the much taller Grayson was looking directly into the Controller’s eyes. The man was sweating profusely, despite the coolness of the season and the tunnels. The sweat probably reflected several hours of concentrated mental effort in controlling so many people for so many purposes, and from his fear of dying.

  What Grayson did not see, were any other weapons aimed at him. He couldn’t see Agent-Xs hands, but he wasn’t pointing a rifle, one that he thought he’d heard a bullet chambered into a minute ago.

  Are you American? Came the mental query.

  Grayson brought his right hand up fast, tossing the object in his hand into Agent-X’s face, causing him to flinch back. He continued his arm motion to reach inside his jacket to his shoulder holster. Grasping his Glock, he started his draw even as he saw the police officer’s face as he understood what was happening. Grayson ignored that potential threat as he aimed his pistol at the face of the Controller over the shoulder of the cop. Agent-X, in his panic, had time for a single forceful group thought.

  Freeze!

  It was his final thought as the 9MM slug tore its way through the bridge of his nose, through his brain, and out the back of his skull.

  Grayson heard a blast from Gorka’s gun close to his left ear, which both deafened and startled him badly. He had removed the gun’s magazine when he made it safe, and that was the object he’d thrown into Agent-X’s face. He’d not considered the possibility that Gorka had a round already chambered, that wasn’t in the magazine.

  The police officer fired his single shot, just as the freeze command arrived. He wasn’t trying to shoot the American; he’d turned the gun towards his nemesis, thanks to Grayson’s mental command that momentarily made him Immune to Agent-X’s previous command, which was to shoot the stranger if he turned around.

  The cop had intended to shoot Agent-X, but with his final effort, as he froze when the new command arrived from directly behind him, he squeezed the trigger. He barely missed the agent, but he’d made a heroic effort.

  Grayson admired his guts, but while the freeze command held the puppets motionless, he snatched Gorka’s gun from his hand, picked up the discarded magazine, and slipped both into his right pocket.

  Next, to save time, he grabbed the collar of the dead Controller and dragged his body off the escalator, the rifle the dead man had carried clattering down with him. Grayson was achingly tired, but he didn’t want to take the time to strip the corpse here. He didn’t know how long the freeze command would last, or what the people would do when freed from that command. He slung the small man’s body over his right shoulder, head down at his back, and walked as fast as he could the way he came.

  When he crossed to the other side of the station on Level 1, he repeatedly called Mike’s name but received no reply, and his partner wasn’t waiting where they’d parted company. The dim emergency lights didn’t make it easier, but he spotted an open door of a shop that he’d not recalled being open as they passed by earlier. The shops had all seemed to have conducted an orderly close when power was cut. When he glanced inside and saw that it had a pharmacy section near the front, he noticed the broken lock on the glass door. Grayson walked inside, gun in his left hand, calling as he went.

  When he walked around a counter, he found his partner sitting on a low stool, his pants off, his left foot bandaged, and several boxes opened with various pill bottles sitting on the countertop. He was deathly still, his eyes half opened.

  Concerned, Grayson pressed two fingers under the man’s right jaw. The warmth
was reassuring, but a freshly dead body wouldn’t have cooled very much so soon. He didn’t feel relieved until he felt the slow pulse. Shaking him didn’t rouse him, so it wasn’t exhausted sleep. He looked at what his partner had been doing. He was working on first-aid for himself, binding his broken foot, and was probably looking for over the counter painkillers, but couldn’t read Korean.

  The cause of Mike’s condition suddenly dawned on him. The Controller’s last panicked command was freeze. Obviously, with the transmitter also down on Level 1, Mike was no longer shielded.

  He sent a mental command to bestow temporary Immunity, and said it aloud, “Forget the freeze order. Wake up, you slacker.”

  With a start, Gorka looked indignant and rapidly blinked to correct his dry eyes, which had been slightly open for the last ten minutes. “I’m not asleep, damn it. I needed to be able to…,” he trailed off as he looked up at what Grayson carried over his shoulder.

  “Damn. Is that the agent?”

  “No. My prom date turned me down, so I shot her.”

  “Wise ass. Is he wearing the helmet and fanny pack?”

  “Yep. Help me lay him out on the countertop, and we can search him.”

  Gorka put on his pants and hobbled up onto his good leg and helped slide the dead man onto the counter, laying him face down due to the bulge of the black package at the small of his back, attached with a wide black leather belt around his waist.

  “Hey,” Gorka pointed at the helmet. “You damaged it.”

  The gory exit wound was under the helmet where it covered the base of the dead man’s skull, with a neater hole in the plastic than in the skull. The black wig that had covered the helmet in the stadium images, and helped hide the three short antennas, was gone.

  “I had a gun aimed at my head, so I wasn’t too picky about the firing angle. Besides, he was trying to duck. Sue me for damages.”