XGeneration (Book 4): Pressure Drop

by Brad Magnarella

  “Wouldn’t you agree?” she pressed.

  “You didn’t need to send them,” he repeated, ridding the image from his mind. “I was doing my job,”

  “Well, that job’s been assigned to someone else. We thank you for your service.”

  There was a space of silence in which Reginald was sure she was going to hang up. But then she spoke again, her voice as cool and in control as ever. “Is there something more you need?”

  You know damn well there is.

  He swallowed the taste of steel. “I’m out of Vitrin.”

  “Is that so? When are you due next?”

  “Three days.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t start feeling the effects for at least another four. Shortness of breath, generalized weakness. You’ll start losing muscle control next. The fits of epilepsy will become longer and more violent, until you welcome the paralysis that follows. Though you may have swallowed your tongue by then. The muscles of respiration will be the last to succumb. You’ll fight with everything you have left to keep your lungs drawing precious air until—”

  “I’m aware of the process.”

  He’d been in a hospital a decade before, diagnosed with terminal cancer and dying. The Scale’s team leader had appeared at his bedside, dangling the prospect of life before him.

  He’d listened.

  “Ah, yes,” she said. “Then you know Satan himself couldn’t have devised a more excruciating end.”

  Reginald resumed pacing. “If I go, all of the information I’ve amassed goes with me.”

  “That won’t be a problem. As I said, others have taken over your assignment.”

  “Who, Shadow? Titan?” Reginald laughed once. “Right. They operate with all the subtlety of a meat cleaver and a bulldozer. There’s a reason I’ve gone undetected for as long as I have, and you know it.”

  He waited out another long pause.

  “I’ll send you one vial,” she said at last. “One conditional vial.”

  “What’s the condition?”

  “You’re to organize everything you’ve gathered to this point and send it in a comprehensive report. That report will then be studied. Scrutinized. If there are any falsehoods—by inclusion or omission—there will be no vial. Our agreement will be terminated. Deemed null and void.”

  “Even if the report’s spot on, how do I know you’ll send it?”

  “I’ve kept you alive this long, haven’t I?”

  Reginald stared out the window in thought. A couple of blocks away, a man on a bucket lift was installing a new transformer. Turning from the window, he sighed. It was a rotten deal, but without the Vitrin…

  “The rest of the medicine,” he said. “How do I get it?”

  “That will hinge on a second condition. A test, really. One that reestablishes our trust in you.”

  Reginald took a breath and steeled himself.

  “Let’s hear it,” he said.

  30

  Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

  Al Karak oil facility

  11:22 p.m.

  Janis peered down the line of parked tanker trucks, her breaths hard and hot in her helmet. The others took slow shape: Jesse, Creed, Margaret, Tyler, Scott, Agent Steel and her men. They were crouched low, like she was, using the tankers’ bulk for cover. Beyond the tankers, on the other side of a dark road, rose the oil processing facility. The city-sized complex of tanks, towers, pipelines and pumps was roaring. Janis reached with her awareness to ensure they hadn’t been spotted before relaxing the blurring effect she had created over her team.

  Agent Steel issued the “stay put” sign. They would wait for the Saudi army’s diversion.

  Exhaling, Janis tilted her head skyward. The wash of lighting from the facility paled the night and stole the stars. She pressed a hand to her stomach, fighting the same queasiness she’d felt prior to operations to access the Leonard’s shed, to find Oakwood’s command and control, to stop the nuclear launch in Missouri that summer.

  Now, Operation Sweet, a mission to prevent the collapse of the United States and most of the West.

  What’s next, she thought, saving Earth from an alien armada?

  Her reflex was to share the thought with Scott. But he was crouched two tankers away, and a quick probe revealed what Janis had already suspected: his mind was closed to her, clamped off.

  Of all the times for the kiss with Tyler to come up…

  Through the din of the oil processing facility, Janis heard pops of gunfire: the diversion. From the next tanker, Agent Steel opened her hand twice. Their helmets were equipped with radios, but Steel wanted silence unless and until it was necessary they speak. Now she was asking Janis how many sentries were monitoring the rear of the facility.

  Janis spread her awareness. The eight Soviet soldiers she had detected earlier were now reduced to four. She showed Agent Steel with her fingers. Steel gave the signal that they were to proceed.

  Janis restored the blurring effect as Tyler came up beside her, sand puffing around his boots. Together, they peered around the front of the tanker. Across the road, a reinforced chain-link fence rose to a height of ten feet, topped with razor wire. Janis quickly spotted their entry point: a section of fence blocked from view from the facility by a huge cylindrical storage tank.

  The nearest streetlight faded, as though someone were turning it down. Someone was, actually. For his next trick, Tyler emitted a burst of electricity from his outstretched hand. The section of fencing lit up and then melted away in a dripping orange slag.

  Janis signaled back that they had their opening.

  Agent Steel held up her index finger: Team One.

  That’s us, Janis thought. The siblings.

  She, Margaret, Tyler, and Creed, as well as a half dozen of Steel’s men took off in a hunkered run. They slipped through the opening in the fence in a line and took their new position behind the oil storage tank. Janis, whose heart felt like it was trying to punch a hole through her chest, opened a telepathic line of communication to her team.

  We’ve got four sentries, she thought toward them. Three are in the scaffolding that run along those pipes. A fourth is patrolling the grounds a few tanks off, but coming this way.

  Tyler’s voice manifested in her head. I’ll deal with their communication systems.

  Creed spoke next: Leave the ones in the pipes to yours truly.

  That left the ground patrol to Margaret.

  As Tyler concentrated his energy into electromagnetic spheres, Creed and Margaret moved off. Janis monitored them. The hits were silent and swift, Creed disabling his targets with super-fast punches, and Margaret by willing her target to surrender his weapon and lay down for a long nap.

  So far, so good, thought Janis.

  From the front of the facility, gunfire continued to pop and chatter. Upon Creed’s and Margaret’s return, Agent Steel’s second in command signaled back toward the oil tankers. Janis turned around to find Agent Steel crossing the road along with the rest of her men. Jesse lumbered behind them. Scott came last, his movements reduced to a listless shuffle.

  Janis sighed. If that boy doesn’t snap out of it…

  Agent Steel pushed her hand toward her. Move, move! Janis started at the realization that her team was advancing without her. Right. The Saudi diversion wouldn’t last forever. They had a small window to make their way to the facility’s engineering complex, neutralize the intruders, and get the oil flowing again. It didn’t sound like much, especially given the ease with which the plan was unfolding so far, but Director Kilmer had been quick to remind them that one slip-up and the explosives would take out the world’s most vital oil spigot.

  And here I am, Janis thought, worrying about a stupid misunderstanding.

  Her gaze lingered long enough to ensure Scott made it through the fence to safety, then she turned and chased the shadows of her teammates, a sudden gust of sand pelting her suit.

  Scott squinted through a blur of sand, watching Janis disappear among the storag
e tanks. He was preparing to wish her luck, but he couldn’t get past the image: her lips—her whole body—pressed to Tyler’s, eyes closed. All of it happening while he stood there watching, helpless.

  There had to be an explanation. But despite what Janis had told him, she and Tyler had seemed so … connected. And now she and Tyler were co-members of Team One, and he was left behind to imagine whatever existed between them. Which was worse than having to observe it being acted out.

  Cold fire roiled his stomach.

  Agent Steel gripped his shoulder and pointed to where Jesse was ducking into a doorway at the base of one of the giant cylinders. Scott followed, entering a low-ceiling storage room. Agent Steel and her men pushed in after him. The door closed with a soft clang, sealing out the steady roar of the complex. Helmet visors retracted, revealing sets of eyes, all of them fixed on his.

  Scott sighed. “Yeah, all right. Give me a minute.”

  He was responsible for locating the explosives that had been planted throughout the facility and to delink them from the detonator. He edged past Jesse and took a seat at a desk that had been shoved into a corner. Agent steel joined him, setting an LED panel over the desktop. When she tapped the lower right corner, the panel illuminated to reveal a schematic of the facility.

  Scott closed his eyes to the display, to the thought of an entwined Janis and Tyler, and scanned the jumble of electronics throughout the massive complex. Signals bombarded him from all sides as he looked—felt—for a distinct signature. Seconds later, he had it. He opened his eyes.

  “These towers,” Scott said, tapping them on the LED panel, lighting them up. “They’re all wired.”

  “And that’s all that’s wired?” Agent Steel asked.

  Scott nodded. But was he sure?

  Agent Steel turned to her men. “You heard him. Begin the defusing process, but take extraordinary care. Those are stabilizing towers. The slightest breach, and the hydrogen sulfide inside will react with the atmosphere, making sulfur dioxide, an acid. It will eat anything it comes into contact with: metal, protective suits, human flesh.”

  The men nodded as visors slid down. Scott could feel data whizzing past him as their helmets downloaded the info from the LED panel. The men filed out, defusal kits in hand.

  Agent Steel returned to Scott’s side. “And the detonation system?”

  “The system’s wireless,” he replied, accessing it again through his helmet. “The charges are equipped with receivers. I can’t sever the connection between them and the detonator without blowing the receivers, and I can’t blow the receivers without potentially setting off the explosives.”

  “What about the detonator itself?”

  “I … I can’t locate it. Either it’s off site, being cloaked somehow, or…” His voice dissolved to a mumble.

  Or I can’t muster enough concentration to find it.

  His team’s assignment had been to locate the explosives, delink them from the detonator, and then disable them. Without that crucial second step, Agent Steel’s bomb squad was at risk—not to mention the world’s oil supply. His fingers shook as he spread them on either side of the LED panel. He tried to concentrate anew, but the image of Janis and Tyler took on fresh color in his mind. The data around him became a meaningless jumble.

  “The detonating device needs a clean signal,” Scott said, more to himself than Agent Steel. “Which means whoever’s operating it is probably up high. That would also give him a nice vantage point to see that his handiwork wasn’t being messed wi … Uh, oh.”

  Agent Steel activated the communication system. “Team Two, report your position.”

  “About five hundred meters from targets,” a man’s voice responded.

  “Conditions?” Steel asked.

  “That sandstorm’s getting stronger. Visibility down to fifty percent.”

  “Good,” Agent Steel said. Good? thought Scott. “Wait until you have total visual cover before beginning your work.”

  “Copy that,” the voice crackled.

  “So you planned the operation to coincide with a sandstorm?” Scott asked.

  “No,” Agent Steel said. “The sandstorm was a lucky break.”

  “For the bomb squad, maybe, but what about Team One?”

  “Team One will be safely inside the engineering complex by the time the sandstorm reaches its maximum force.”

  At that moment, Scott’s earpiece hummed. “Team One reporting,” came Janis’s voice. “We’re still three hundred meters from our target, but it sounds like the Saudi diversion is petering out. I’m picking up some movement headed back our way.”

  “Spread out,” Agent Steel ordered. “Intercept them like we practiced.”

  “Copy that, but some of them are moving really—”

  Janis’s voice was buried beneath a mound of static.

  “Team One, do you read?” Agent Steel asked. “Team One?”

  Scott listened, then deactivated the communication system and reached for Janis telepathically. Janis, are you there? Are you all right?

  No response came.

  “Team One, do you read?” Agent Steel repeated. She unlatched her carbine from the back of her suit as she spun toward the door. “C’mon,” she called.

  Scott pushed himself from the desk.

  “Not you,” she said. “Team Three.”

  Scott had almost forgotten about Jesse, who was leaning against the wall behind the door. He was Team Three—the contingency plan if the other teams ran into trouble. Jesse stirred with a grumble and ducked through the open door ahead of Agent Steel. Sand pelted his armored suit from all sides.

  “Hey,” Scott said, his voice rising in panic. He had once considered himself the leader of the Champions, but now, with everything at stake, he was being left behind. “What can I do?”

  Agent Steel tapped the front of her helmet. “Find that detonator.”

  The door clanged shut behind her.

  The others had heard Agent Steel’s order and begun moving toward cover when the figure emerged from the haze. A flash of gray, and Janis felt a crack against her helmet. Her display went wobbly—or was that her vision? She wheeled and was struck again, this time in the back of the head.

  Grunting, she fell onto her outstretched arm.

  It took her a moment to realize she hadn’t been hit by projectiles, but a fist. Must be a quick, she thought, groggily. She got an arm up and pushed in time to deflect her attacker’s next pass.

  A figure stumbled and rammed into the side of a metal drum.

  Agent Steel’s voice sounded through her earpiece. “Team One, do you read?”

  The Artificial, a thin, metal-plated man, drew a sonic blaster and fired. The high-frequency sound penetrated Janis’s helmet, splintering her mind into a thousand piercing fragments.

  She writhed on her back, heels digging against the cement. Her fingers began fumbling with the helmet’s release valves, even though she knew that was the worst possible thing to do. But God, the sound! If she could just cover her ears…

  And then the pain stopped.

  Janis rolled onto her side. The Artificial was sitting against the oil drum, a sonic blaster at his side, wind whipping a plume of smoke from the metal gear embedded in his skull. Tyler helped her to her feet.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  Janis performed a quick scan of the area. Though the sonic blast had scrambled her head pretty good, she could sense the rest of the Soviets patrolling in different directions, not converging on them.

  She shared the information with Tyler. “You must’ve blown his communication system before he could broadcast an alert.”

  “I just threw out what I could,” he said. “Got lucky, I guess.”

  Creed came up beside them, rubbing the side of his helmet. “That cheap-shotting son of a bitch,” he grumbled. “He’s lucky I didn’t make him eat that noisemaker of his. Looks like he tagged your sister pretty good.”

  Janis
spun in the direction he was facing and found Margaret on the ground, two of Agent Steel’s men kneeling beside her. They had removed her helmet and were using their bodies to shield her from the sand.

  “Small concussion,” one of the men was saying as Janis came running up.

  But before Janis could get close enough to check on Margaret herself, Agent Steel appeared and gestured with her carbine. “Proceed with the operation,” she ordered through her helmet.

  “One second,” Janis replied testily.

  Someone took her shoulders in his hands. “She’s right.”

  Janis turned, expecting to see Tyler. Instead, she found Creed.

  “Speedy Gonzales over there got a jump on me ’cause I can’t see shit in all this sand. We’ve gotta stick to the program and get inside. Look, I’m not Steel’s number one fan or nothin’, but she makes a half-decent point sometimes.”

  Agent Steel brushed past Janis, as though the matter were decided.

  Janis’s gaze lingered on her sister’s outstretched legs. Just be okay, she thought.

  Agent Steel was right. They had a job to do. Whether she liked it or not, that’s what it meant to be a Champion. Burying sentiment, ignoring distractions, becoming Steel-like herself. Tyler and Creed joined her as she turned and fell in behind Agent Steel. Jesse appeared in their wake.

  They left the dead Artificial against the drum, sand already beginning to pile along one side of him in a small drift. From the core of his hybrid brain, a single weak ping escaped: a distress signal.

  Scott gasped as he returned to himself. He found himself slumped over the LED panel in the dim storage room, hands gripping either end of the desk, the inside of his visor streaked with perspiration.

  “Still no goddamned good,” he mumbled.

  For the third time in as many minutes, he’d combed every circuit in Al Karak and come up empty.

  No detonator.