The Rebel

by Gerald Brandt

  Janice circled the block a few times before she found her. Up ahead, a small figure stood outside one of the cafes that were opening their doors. The figure wore the heavier jacket of a motorcycle rider. Janice turned her face away so Kris wouldn’t see it when she passed. At the next corner, she hung a left and stopped.

  The question was, what to do next? The approach she had used a couple of weeks ago wouldn’t work, since ACE was gone. A surprise attack was the best. As long as Kris knew who was killing her.

  Janice rode her bike closer to where she’d seen Kris and parked it, ready for a quick getaway. She still had enough battery left to get somewhere safe if everything went to hell. If it went well, she would take Kris’s bike. It was better than hers, anyway.

  Drones flitted across the ceiling thirty-five meters above her head, and police and military vehicles were everywhere. Something must have happened here recently to warrant all this. It would make her job tougher.

  She forced herself to believe it didn’t matter. She was sure she could get the job done and be out before anyone noticed. The public greenhouses themselves were unprotected. Their enclosed ceilings would block the drones, so all she would need to worry about would be other people. The worst-case scenario would be collateral damage. She could live with that.

  Janice stood in the shadows as Kris entered the greenhouse filled with trees. Once she was out of sight, Janice edged closer to the door and peered inside. She couldn’t see Kris. It would be best to wait here until Kris came out, rather than go in after her and possibly be ambushed.

  The wait was longer than she’d expected. Most of the morning had passed before she saw Kris moving through the trees, obviously lost in her own thoughts. Janice stepped in front of her as Kris left the structure.

  “Back inside,” Janice said.

  Kris stared at her. Janice took a step forward, the barrel of the gun pushing against the material of her jacket. Kris glanced down and then back at Janice’s face.

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a gun, you imbecile.”

  Kris stumbled back. “No, why are you doing this? I never did anything to you.”

  “I’m just doing my job. Now back inside.”

  A police cruiser passed by them. Neither Kris nor Janice moved.

  “Fine. I’ll shoot you here.”

  Kris bolted into the greenhouse, turning the corner as soon as she cleared the entrance. Janice followed a split second later, the closeness of her target making her throw caution out the window. She made it two steps in before she was clotheslined by Kris’s outstretched arm. The impact threw her and she landed flat on her back, the gun falling a meter away.

  KADOKAWA SAT CITY 2—TUESDAY, JULY 4, 2141 6:02 A.M.

  Fighter craft hung in space, poised to strike. They’d moved into attack formation as Andrew ran into Operations. “Details,” he shouted as he closed the last button on his uniform.

  “They haven’t made a move yet. I’ve ordered our fighters to prepare,” Mori said.

  “Have we launched anything for support?”

  “Squadron 7 is launching now.” As Mori spoke, the SoCal fighters moved.

  “How long till they get there?”

  “Less than two minutes.”

  Dammit. This would be over in two minutes. “Bring in our closest fighters.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mori relayed the orders to the pilots.

  The attack was blindingly fast. Before reinforcements could arrive, Kadokawa had lost two ships while only crippling one of SoCal’s. In all, the skirmish had lasted fifty-three seconds.

  “They’re withdrawing, sir.”

  Andrew watched the screens.

  “Sir?” asked Mori.

  Andrew’s shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. “Let them go. Keep Squadron 7 out there for now. If SoCal makes another move I want three squadrons launched immediately. And double the number of fighters on the perimeter.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Look for survivors.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mori answered in a softer voice.

  They both knew there wouldn’t be any.

  Andrew understood this was only a test of their perimeter. SoCal now had more accurate data on how long it would take them to launch . . . how long they had before the numbers were balanced. It was over for now. They wouldn’t plan another attack until all the data had been analyzed by their experts.

  “I’ll be in my office.” He left Operations, heading to the reports on his desk.

  SOCAL SAT CITY 2—TUESDAY, JULY 4, 2141 8:11 A.M.

  Bryson stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. SoCal had given him a small suite two floors above his lab. Most of the other lab workers had rooms here as well. They were all kept inside by locked security doors and only got out when SoCal wanted them out. The only difference between this prison and the one at Kadokawa was the constant security that led him everywhere. It was obvious, to him at least, that they didn’t want him out in the population. The more cut off he was from the outside world, even just the world of the Sat City, the less chance he had of planning or trying to escape.

  The idea made him snort as he dried his hair. He’d lived on Meridian Sat City for a long time before Kadokawa took it over. He knew the ins and outs of the place pretty darn well. It would take him months, if not longer, to get the same knowledge here. SoCal wasn’t quite as dumb as Kadokawa though. He doubted that he would ever be alone, even if they did let him out. The girl that had rescued him at the hotel had told him everyone was monitored. For all he knew, the same sensors that tracked people in San Angeles could be installed up here as well.

  No, his chances of getting out of here were about zero.

  His daydreaming and delaying of the work had gone on as long as he thought was possible. Ms. Peters was starting to get furious and the guards a little rougher every time he came into contact with them. Even thinking of them, of the violence and pain they could bring, made him woozy. The problem was, he wasn’t getting the same results he’d seen at his old lab. Sure, things were way better with the shielding than without, but there was something different with the engines or shields that changed their effectiveness. Something they had done during the earlier tests at Kadokawa that changed the way the engine reacted with nonquantum objects. At least that’s what he thought.

  Bryson couldn’t remember what the difference was. His old team on Kadokawa had gone through so many different iterations, he couldn’t recall what state the engines had been in when he’d run his original tests. He’d already made the changes that gave the incredible results weeks ago, but they hadn’t worked here. It was some combination of his earlier work that had done it. What he really needed was access to the data on the chip he had made.

  He’d considered that maybe Ms. Peters was actually able to read the chip, that she was waiting for him to duplicate the experiment to prove the shielding worked. He threw out that idea fairly quick. The longer he took to come up with answers, the more irritated she became, to the point of injecting him with who knows what. And it was in SoCal’s best interest to get a ship running as quickly as possible. The quicker they had one, the sooner the war would be over. There was a chance she had another team working on the project, using the data from the chip, but that didn’t make much sense either. He plucked the comm unit off the wall and waited. It only connected with one device.

  “Yes,” Ms. Peters said.

  Even the sound of her voice sent a spark of fear through him. “I . . . I need the data on the chip. I can’t duplicate the engine configuration that I originally tested with. What I have should work, but it doesn’t, not really.”

  “What do you mean, not really?”

  He hesitated. That was a stupid question coming from her. Every night, one of his “colleagues” collected the day’s results and sent it somewhere. He was sure it went to
Peters.

  “I saw protection rates of over ninety-eight percent on my previous test at Kadokawa. I’m only seeing forty-six percent now. The only thing I can think of is the configuration of the engine itself. We tried so many things, I can’t remember the exact state it was in when I ran my tests.”

  “And you believe you can get the information off the chip when my experts weren’t able to?”

  Exasperation mixed with the anxiety. He tried to keep it out of his voice. “I can’t do any worse.”

  The silence on the other end of the line was long. He sat on his bed, the wet towel still clutched in his hand, and waited. Was she already sending guards? Would she think he wasn’t worth the effort? He struggled to get rid of the thoughts by counting his heartbeats. He had problems keeping up.

  “I’ll have it delivered to your desk at 9:00 A.M.”

  “Thank you.”

  The link went down, and he stood to put the comm unit back in its wall cradle. For the first time, he’d been able to push through his intense fear of her and get what he wanted. Maybe things wouldn’t go to hell after all. Maybe now he’d get somewhere.

  LOS ANGELES LEVEL 2—TUESDAY, JULY 4, 2141 8:27 A.M.

  Kai left his place in Chinatown and walked toward the insurgents’ building. As he passed the Northern Dragon, he placed his hand on the menu-covered front window. If he made it through this stupid war, he’d reopen the restaurant. No more insurgents, no more corporate espionage, just him and his food and his customers. But especially his friends.

  Some of his best memories of the place were when Kris would come in after a hard day, order some ginger chicken, and eat it at the rickety plastic table he used to keep in the front. Last time she had eaten at that table, it had been moved to the back, and Pat had cooked up some scrambled eggs.

  They could not get eggs anymore. Or meat or fresh produce. SoCal wanted them to fight their war, and yet they did not allow in enough food to keep everyone fed. Levels 6 and 7 had more than enough. Fresh fish from the ocean, pineapples from Brazil, olives from Portugal. Whenever he went through the checkpoints, it was like moving to a new world.

  One where his friends were not allowed.

  The insurgents’ building was the same as always. The supposedly inconspicuous guards on the roof and near the doors. Just about anyone with half a brain would know something weird was going on. Since Jack had been promoted to his new position, things had gone downhill. The man was way out of his league. He entered the building.

  At this time of day, the communal eating area was packed. No one looked up when he came in, every person lost in their own thoughts or having conversations with their friends. These were supposed to be the fighting force of this insurgent cell, and not a single person cared about who was in their own headquarters. They had become too comfortable, too complacent.

  Up near the front, a single person raised their hand. He waved back at Pat and stood in line to get porridge and whatever substitute they had for coffee. By the time he’d gotten to the table, Pat’s breakfast was already gone.

  “Kris will not be joining us this morning?” he asked.

  Pat pushed her tray farther away. “No. I checked her room, and she was already gone.”

  “Oh, where?”

  “I don’t know. She . . . she had a breakdown last night, right here, in front of everyone. I’m really scared for her. I don’t know how to fix her.” Tears made her voice shaky.

  “I should never have left.” He reached for Pat’s hand. She jerked it away and put both her hands under the table.

  “I don’t know how it would have been different if you’d stayed. The only reason she left her room at all was to go on a mission.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I know. I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s too damn stubborn. It was supposed to be pretty simple, you know. Just be the eyes for a truck hijack, get some fresh food down here so we don’t all die of scurvy.”

  “It did not go that way?” Kai knew what Kris was like. If there was an opportunity to step up and do more, she would. She was so much like her father that way.

  “Of course not. The truck drivers had guns, and she doubled back to see how the hijack was going. By the time the dust settled, she crawled over the dead and drove the truck down herself.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Physically, sure. Mentally I don’t think so. It was too much for her. I should never had insisted she join me for dinner.”

  “Hmm. I had thought leaving her alone for a while would be best. Perhaps we need to get her more involved instead. Give her some real jobs that will take her mind off of Miller.”

  “Maybe,” Pat said doubtfully.

  “I know my Kris. If we do not, she will figure out what to do on her own. That would not be good.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. What do you have in mind?”

  “We need to bring her up to speed on Doc Searls and Bryson. We will have to let her come up with ideas on what to do.”

  “You think it’ll work?”

  Kai shrugged.

  KADOKAWA SAT CITY 2—TUESDAY, JULY 4, 2141 9:30 A.M.

  A pad of intelligence and internal reports sat on the desk in front of Andrew. He’d been here since early this morning, carefully reading a report, slowly flipping through the screens, assessing the information it contained, and then moving on to the next file.

  There really wasn’t any part of the job he hated, but there were a couple he was definitely starting to dislike. He was still new here though, and the best way to get the pulse of what was happening under your command was to read every report, no matter how trivial. The one he had just finished mentioned a minor altercation in the mess. A few people were not happy with the quality of the food. It was something small, but it might be indicative of a growing issue.

  His last two postings had been Earthside. The previous one was to bring peace to an uprising in southern India. The Indian military had ousted BEL, Bharat Electronics, from power, trying to restore governmental rule. Naturally, the very poor were hit the hardest, and they didn’t like it. Clashes between military and citizens had escalated to the point of civil war, and Kadokawa was sent in to bring aid—and if possible, stability—to the country. They had been at least partially successful. Once the majority of the fighting had stopped, Andrew had been moved up here.

  This posting was a bit different. He still had to hit the ground running, but with so many people and the city under his command, he had to do a fair amount of learning as well. The first few weeks of every new posting were always for getting the lay of the land. Since the previous occupants of this position had done a bad job, he wasn’t sure how much he could rely on their official reports to know what was going on. He needed to go through as much data as he could get his hands on, test the crew with scenarios, and let his captains understand how he ran his ship. The problem was that the pressure was really on this time. This morning’s skirmish with SoCal had proven that. They hadn’t liked his expanded perimeter and had pushed back. His men were under orders not to fire unless they were fired upon. SoCal didn’t seem to have the same inhibitions.

  By the time the fight was over, SoCal had one crippled fighter and he had lost two, both experienced pilots with enough hours behind the controls to have retired years ago. Maybe that was why he was sitting here reading reports instead of in Operations. The loss of seasoned men was a black mark on everyone’s record, and he didn’t like it.

  Andrew rubbed his eyes and sighed, closing the latest report. Instead of opening a new one, he grabbed another information pad that sat alone on the edge of his desk. Flipping it on, he scanned the compact data page.

  Santō-kaii Keiji Nagumo. Born January 27, 2102. Thirty-nine years old and a lieutenant for life. A close to impeccable service record. No family, except for a mother living in Nagasaki. Andrew flipped to the last screen and read it�
��the letter of sorrow for the family. It was as standard as all the others he had seen. He signed the bottom and swiped to open the next file.

  It normally wasn’t the Kaishō-ho’s job to read the records of the deceased, or to sign them personally. His job was to lead the people under him. These were the first deaths since his placement in the city, so he decided to take care of them himself. In the future, he wouldn’t even see them. If he did, the pads would cover his desk in stacks so high he wouldn’t be able to see the door in the opposite wall. That is what war brought. He sighed again and paid more attention to the pad. Nitō-kaii Seiko Nakayama, mother of three. Her husband served as well. He put his formal signature on the document and placed the pad back on the edge of his desk.

  He’d lost people under his command before. But whether it was from a collapsed building on an earthquake rescue or by the hand of an enemy at war, the feeling was the same: like he was losing control. His empathy had almost cost him a command position, until he’d been able to show Kadokawa it didn’t hamper his ability to lead. Still, each time someone died, even if he didn’t know them personally, it felt as though he had lost a piece of himself.

  Kadokawa’s outlook on the world had made them resist the trend to build high-rise cities, finding them inhumane. Eventually, population growth had forced their hand in that, but the Nippon Islands had stayed as pristine as they could keep them, until the entire area from Wakkanai to Kagoshima had been declared a UNESCO World Heritage site. Kadokawa had purchased what remained of North Korea in 2097, and followed up with South Korea in 2112, building their city between Seoul and Pyongyang, eventually extending along the west coast to Muan. It was only six levels high, but it was open to the outside world at every one of them.