Xn

by Clint Townsend

  Chloe slowly peeled her fingers away from her face, saw the empty EVA hangar, and turned away from the tablets.

  Garret sank back in his chair, vigorously shaking his head.

  As she approached Cain and Dr. White, Bianca began trembling and her breathing became short and heavy. She felt nauseated and weak as she struggled to kick free of her muscular captor.

  “You can’t leave us now, my dear,” Cain coldly commented, spinning his chair away from the conference table to address her, “We’ve come so far!”

  The well-groomed sociopath continued his lecture, rising from his chair at the head of the table, “There’s too much at risk, Bianca. If we go soft now, well … it causes problems. Doesn’t it? You, of all people, can appreciate that. And we don’t want problems, do we?”

  Cain took one step forward and sandwiched the young woman between him and Riggs. He cautiously reached behind Bianca and took hold of her wrist. Riggs relaxed his grip and Dr. Wyczthack aggressively pulled her body against his. He silently stared her down; his soulless and evil glare penetrated her heart. Shivers of despair rippled up and down her spine; her chin quivered as his warm breath danced across her cheek.

  “This is something that, quite simply, I can’t afford for you to miss. You were, after all, instrumental in bringing us to this point.”

  Chloe collapsed in a heap on the floor, pulled her knees in, and wept heavily.

  Armada kept his eyes on the tablet streaming the live footage from the EVA Dock’s external video surveillance cameras. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched his brothers’ bodies drift away. Like flickering fireflies playing in the breeze on a warm summer evening, one by one the corpses burned briefly and brightly as they entered Earth’s atmosphere and disintegrated.

  “Why didn’t you do something?” Armada barked, rising from his knees. “Why didn’t you help them? Why? Where are you?”

  He searched the room, looking for a sign, any sign, of acknowledgement.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  Dr. White stepped beside Riggs and tenderly ran his long, bony fingers through Bianca’s thick and luxurious blonde hair. A devilish smile gradually spread across his thin lips. He suddenly grasped a handful of Bianca’s flowing locks and yanked her head backwards. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dr. White reach into his coat breast pocket.

  Cain leaned forward slightly, shortening the gap between his and Bianca’s faces.

  “Please…,” she sputtered, as saliva freely dripped from her mouth.

  “Sshh!” Cain interrupted. With his left hand, he quickly reached up and squeezed Bianca’s cheeks, forcing her mouth to pucker slightly.

  Her heart sunk when she felt the familiar sting of a needle entering her arm.

  As Bianca started to wilt, Cain frowned and stated, “I think we need to reassess your dedication to this project.”

  CHAPTER 37

  A PREEMPTIVE STRIKE

  “The final switchback has been completely off-loaded, sir,” Light Huddleston politely shouted over the noise. “They’re in the process of stacking quadracles.”

  “How long do you anticipate that to take?” Cain inquired.

  “Quads require around an hour-and-a-half to two hours to assemble, sir. So … maybe thirty hours, thereabouts.”

  Light stared up into the video camera as he answered his employer’s questions.

  “We’ll stage the quadracles upon completion and begin our dispatch as soon as I receive word from you.”

  From the comfort of his private office one mile above the Earth’s surface, Cain monitored the movements of his precious cargo. With a multitude of high-definition video screens in front of him, Cain Wyczthack, like Armada and Chloe, had unlimited access to the SUBOS surveillance system. The mad scientist dedicated hours and hours of his day to watching and eavesdropping on the tower’s populace.

  “What’s happening now? There, right behind you,” he snapped at the portly dock supervisor.

  Light twisted back to look at what Cain was referring to.

  “That’s one of our portable gantry cranes,” Light happily replied, thumbing over his shoulder. “We use two of ‘em to stack the top layer of the quadracles. We bring the missile cradles right up to the dock and assembly area, lift ‘em a few inches to roll away the cradle, and lower the rocket into the frames. Once we construct a four-pack, we cover it up ‘til we deploy to the Aerie.”

  “Pantex says their team will be here in forty-eight hours,” Dr. White whispered from his seat on the couch.

  “How long to deliver all one hundred?”

  Dr. White sat up straight on the cushion front to get a better view of the video monitors.

  “Oh,” Light began, folding his arms, “load in, lift to the Aerie, transfer to the CARBEL, lift to the Halo … four hours. One way.”

  “Per quadracle?” Dr. White questioned loudly, rising from the sofa.

  “Yes, sir,” Light confirmed, rocking back and forth on his boot heels.

  “So, in total, you estimate each four-pack to take a minimum of six hours to assemble and deliver. Am I correct?” Dr. Wyczthack asked.

  “Yes, sir, you’re correct.”

  Dr. White sauntered to the wet bar and held a crystal highball glass up high for Cain to see. He pointed at the glass and raised his eyebrows, as if to ask him, Wanna drink?

  “Can’t we expedite these loads a bit more efficiently?” Dr. Wyczthack growled, pinching an inch of his thumb and index finger at Dr. White.

  “Well, in all honesty, I could, technically speaking, have all twenty-five quadracles up to the Aerie in about eighteen hours,” Light admitted, scratching at his neck. “But that would mean no load outs or returns for the entire SUBOS freight system.”

  Light allowed his statement to sink in for a few seconds as Cain looked over his shoulder to catch Dr. White shrug with indifference.

  “In addition,” Light continued, “twenty-five four-packs are gonna put the Aerie in a proverbial logjam for several days. How much time do your boys from Oak Ridge and Pantex require for each installation?”

  Dr. White raised the glass of Scotch to his lips and held up three fingers to Cain.

  “Three hours,” Dr. Wyczthack snarled, rubbing his temples.

  “If you don’t mind me saying, sir,” Light humbly began, “I can keep your boys well stocked until they’re done. I personally don’t see the necessity to clog the elevators and stuff the Aerie with cargo that won’t be used … at least not immediately. It’s your decision … but I’d send up one quad at a time.”

  Dr. White handed Cain his glass of Woodford Reserve, winked once, and nodded his head in approval at Light.

  “Very well then,” Cain blurted, obviously disappointed. “Assemble the missile quadracles, stage for deployment, and wait ‘til I give you the go-ahead.”

  “Yes, sir!” Light proudly replied, smiling broadly. “I’ll have my….”

  Mr. Huddleston’s words were cut short as Cain disconnected the live video and audio feed.

  “Three hours?” Cain blasted, emptying the contents of the highball in one massive mouthful.

  “Well, these take time,” Dr. White consoled his friend and business partner as he stepped to the bar.

  “Don’t patronize me, Alan,” Dr. Wyczthack quipped. “I know it takes time! I know! I know! I know!”

  Cain wrestled with his hair in frustration as Dr. White retrieved the bottle of whiskey.

  “What’s got you all worked up?”

  “You have to ask?” Cain snapped as he watched the caramel-colored spirit flow from the bottle into his glass.

  “I just ejected nearly two hundred clones, we don’t know the identity of Armada’s contact, and we have yet to locate and capture two runaways!”

  Dr. White gave pause, recognized the stress on Cain’s face, and proceeded to pour more whiskey.

  “Cloud Ten construction has slowed, and missile installation can’t occur until that’s completed. And all the
while, our A-list test subject and his girlfriend are running around while we got our heads crammed up our rear ends! And you wonder what’s got me ‘all worked up’?!”

  ***

  “Ooh, did you feel that one?” Chloe asked, rubbing her husband’s hand on her swollen belly.

  “Nah,” Armada grunted as he toyed with his tablet keyboard.

  “Here, try this.”

  Pulling his left hand across her protruding midsection, she pressed his palm down and away from her bellybutton.

  “Wow!” he exclaimed, twisting to face her. “He’s really kicking!”

  “I know! He’s been like this for almost two days.”

  Armada tossed the computer to the end of the bed and curled his arms around his entombed son.

  “Hey! You in there!” Armada playfully shouted. “Abdiel! What’s going on? What’s all the fuss for?”

  Chloe laughed and slapped his shoulder before combing her fingers through his thick and slightly curly hair.

  “Only a few weeks to go, buddy. We love you so much and are ready to meet you. And your momma’s getting fat.”

  “Oh!” she laughingly cried, hitting him with her pillow. “You’re such a butt! You ruined a beautiful moment with a fat joke!”

  Chloe gruffly pushed Armada away from her side and kicked at him while attempting to scoot out from the far side of the bed.

  “Help me, Abdiel!” he yelled. “She’s killing me! She’s crazy!”

  “Nobody’s killing no one, Abdiel!” Chloe shouted at her belly. “Your father just can’t keep from saying something stupid!”

  As she briskly strode to the closet and refrigerator, she snapped, “Have you devised a doable plan to get Euclid out of the Arena?”

  “Augh!” Armada loudly groaned, still lying on the bed.

  “I’ll take that to mean no.”

  Chloe leaned back against the counter after retrieving a gargantuan red apple from their refrigerator.

  “Baby! He’s been up there, alone, for nearly five days!”

  She bit into the firm, crisp meat of the apple.

  “I know,” her beaux finally and drolly commented.

  Armada sat up, grabbed his tablet, and resumed his work.

  “Can’t you just generate an authorization to get on the CARBEL?” she mumbled while chewing.

  Without looking at the mother-to-be, Armada drably stated, “With Wyczthack’s newly implemented guidelines and operational procedures for attaching to a POG, comm-links are to automatically synchronize with a helmet transponder and RFID chip. As soon as Euclid comes within fifteen feet of any active POG, his identity will be compromised.”

  “Well, how about an internal transfer to another Arena?”

  “Baby, that won’t work. All RFID recipients from the Euclid batch were on Arena One and disintegrated five days ago. If I create a false directive for reassignment, say to Arena Two, and we somehow manage to sneak him out of Arena One, the first retinal scanner on Two will pick him up. He won’t even make it past EVA. He’ll be singled out, Wyczthack will be called in … and then they’ll kill him.”

  Although she stood not more than ten feet away from their bed, Chloe’s glazed stare told Armada she was in a completely different place.

  “I’m thinking it’ll be easier to bring him down after Cloud Ten is complete.”

  “After?!”

  “It’s the only way to get Euclid back without creating an artificial reason or occasion. When Wyczthack and Riggs are ready, they’ll schedule the return of all personnel to the SUBOS. They’ll empty the Arenas. I can easily hide Euclid among six hundred twins, that’s not a problem. The most challenging and dangerous method would be to move him, independently, without an accompanying event for a distraction.”

  “What about evaluations? The next time Euclid is scheduled for….”

  “Nope!” he loudly and sarcastically interrupted. “The doc’s temporarily suspended all evals. Until further notice, all vertical movement of Arena personnel is strictly prohibited. If we so much as….”

  Armada failed to complete his statement, as a bright sounding ‘ping’ emanated from his computer.

  “Speaking of…,” Armada commented, pointing to his tablet. “He just sent me a message.”

  “What’d he say?” Chloe asked as she awkwardly crawled up the bed.

  “‘When am I getting out of here?’ and ‘How long will this fruit last?’” he recited.

  “Ask him if he remembers when they received their distribution.”

  ‘Soon, buddy. I’m working on it. I want you safe. Chloe wants to know when you received the distribution,’ he speedily typed and pressed ‘send.’

  “How long will it last?” Armada inquired of his wife.

  “We determined that all produce is safe to consume up to three weeks after delivery. Three-and-a-half at most. I mean he won’t die or get sick, but texture and flavor decline quickly after that. Tell him not to cut or portion anything, keep everything refrigerated, and only take out what he knows for sure he’ll eat. Changes in temperature and light shorten the shelf life.”

  “So…,” Armada began and folded his arms, “I have approximately two weeks to get Euclid off the Arena.”

  Chloe lightly and silently scratched at his forearm.

  “In a little more than fourteen days, his food supply will become inedible,” he added.

  He quietly shook his head as he pondered what words to say to his stranded brother. After contemplating what information he should share, he assembled and dispatched a list of instructions for maximizing the longevity of his fresh produce.

  ‘Can you see any of the Clouds from the Arena?’ his follow-up letter asked.

  A few moments later, Euclid’s response appeared on Armada’s tablet, ‘Yes. Cloud Ten is close by. And I believe it’s Cloud Nine that has been brought next to the Island. There’s been plenty of activity with personnel loading materials on Nine ever since the tubes were installed.’

  ‘What materials?’

  ‘Couldn’t tell you. All I know is more and more pods are being off-loaded from the CARBELs and being held at the Island. The Cloud was repositioned not two days ago, and they’ve connected a hard line to the Halos.’

  “Wow!” Armada blurted.

  “Wow what?” Chloe asked, startled.

  “Euclid says there’s a tether line between the Halo and a Cloud that’s been moved.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well,” he said, taking a short glance at the panel of tablet monitors, “it tells me that Wyczthack and White are about to populate the Clouds.”

  “But Ten hasn’t been completely assembled yet. Has it? Last thing you told me was it hadn’t gone through pressurization certification.”

  “You are correct, woman. I did say that.”

  He anxiously hopped to his knees and faced his wall of tablet screens.

  “Ah-ha!” he exclaimed, pointing at one computer and scrambled out of bed.

  “Ah-ha what, baby?”

  “Look at the Halo. Up here on the left.”

  He crouched down and placed his index finger at the top corner of the tablet.

  “Clouds,” he excitedly stated. “Two of ‘em, just like he said. Cain’s getting ready to notify his inhabitants that it’s time to come in.”

  “Are you sure? He’s relocated all of ‘em at one time or another, so what makes you think that this is ‘it’?”

  “Wyczthack, White, and Riggs wouldn’t tether anything unless there’s people involved.”

  “But what about Cloud Ten?”

  “That’s irrelevant. He’s prepping the first nine for boarding, now.”

  “Okay,” Chloe smartly agreed, lumbering out of bed. “Let’s say you’re right and Cain’s trying to expedite his agenda. And let’s also say that today, right now, Engenechem puts out the call for everybody to get here ASAP. How long do you estimate it’ll take for thirty thousand people to travel to Las Vegas from all over the world? Seco
ndly, if the Clouds aren’t ready, where do they go after they arrive?”

  “All right, I’ll play along. First, the people Cain’s chosen for this little gathering have more than likely prearranged their travel plans. All they need to know is ‘when’ and boom, they’re on a plane. Shortest time? I’d say a couple of hours for those already in Nevada. Several hours for people in California, Utah, Arizona, and Colorado. Maybe half a day for East Coast, Canada, and Mexico. All things considered … I imagine the entire populace can be here, at the SUBOS … in ninety-six hours.”

  “And?” Chloe asked with a high lilt in her voice.

  “And … if the Clouds are uninhabitable….”

  Armada held his arms out to his sides, palms up, and shrugged.

  “Honey, let’s go meet the new next-door neighbors. Cain’ll fill this place up in a heartbeat.”

  “Ask Euclid how many launch tubes have been installed on Ten,” Chloe suddenly requested. “Also, how long did it take for each to be constructed.”

  She watched her husband gruffly peck at his keyboard.

  “I’m running outta time!” he snapped before sending his questions to Euclid.

  “Well, baby? If Cain … OOHH!”

  Chloe winced from a burst of pain, leaned forward, and grasped her belly with both hands.

  “What? What happened? Are you all right?”

  The adoring father-to-be lightly placed his fingers on his wife’s shoulder.

  “Wow!” she grunted, slightly stooping. “He’s got a killer kick!”

  “Here, lie back down.”

  At that moment, the incoming message chimed.

  “Euclid’s calling you.”

  “You want anything?” he concernedly inquired as Chloe eased herself on the mattress, still cradling her bulging stomach.

  “Nah, I’m fine. Oooh! Actually, baby, will you get me some of those fire ‘n ice pickles? That sounds really, OH! … good right now.”

  “Sure, sure,” he gleefully replied, kissing her forehead.

  After reaching for his tablet, Armada opened the note.

  “He says ‘Three tubes, and two hours for each tube.’”