The Rebel

by Gerald Brandt

  The chances of someone being hurt making a jump had dropped dramatically. He just needed to figure out the chances and possible effects of the remaining one percent. He didn’t think Ms. Peters would care.

  Bryson completed the thought with mixed emotions. The loss of the two pilots on the first jump was still personal to him. It didn’t matter that Jeremy had forced the test, it was still his research, his technology, that had failed them. And he knew what SoCal’s plans were—the same as Meridian’s had been. To fight and win a war. The ability to have troops and weaponry anywhere at any time was a world changer.

  He leaned back in his chair and stretched, suddenly realizing how quiet the lab was. He spun in his chair, expecting to see Ms. Peters hovering behind him. All he saw were the faces of everyone else in the lab.

  He gave a quick nod and watched the range of emotions of the people in front of him. Some, like him, were uncertain. Others cheered and clapped the backs of those near them. Ailsa walked over.

  “That’s it then,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “At least the war will be over before it’s even started.”

  Bryson smiled. “Do you always try to look at the bright side of things?”

  “It’s the only thing that gets me through the day.”

  “I should try it, then.”

  “You should. Maybe we can work on it together.”

  A thrill ran through him, quickly squashed by logic. “Maybe. I’m not allowed out much.”

  “None of us are, but we’re trying to look on the bright side, remember?”

  “I do! I’ll check with my keeper. I expect she’ll be wanting the results.” He watched the celebrating staff. “If she doesn’t already have them.”

  The airlock hissed open. “I expect she does, but I don’t think it’ll stop her from checking,” Ailsa said. She went back to her terminal, leaving him alone to face Ms. Peters.

  “Come with me.” Ms. Peters didn’t bother asking him if the tests had worked or not.

  They walked out of the airlock, Bryson flanked by the two guards. They were different every day, and he hadn’t yet seen the same person twice. He figured it was to stop him from being too friendly and maybe find a soft spot in SoCal’s plans for him.

  “Where are we going?”

  Ms. Peters didn’t answer. She walked to the elevator, already held open by a third soldier, and they rode it up in silence.

  They stopped two levels below the promenade Bryson had arrived on a few weeks ago, the doors opening into a bustling hallway. Everyone here wore the standard gray uniforms of the SoCal military, making him in his white lab coat and Ms. Peters in her red business suit the odd ones out. The composite walls and exposed conduits were gone on this floor, but this place was obviously designed for expedience over comfort. They walked for a few minutes before coming to an unmarked door. Ms. Peters flashed her hand over a plaque in the wall and the door swung open. She stepped through and he followed, the guards remaining in the hallway.

  The room was a simple security checkpoint. As soon as they walked in, the soldier behind the desk stood, his hand on his weapon. The taser wasn’t clipped in. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make any move. The only other exit was a door in the opposite wall. Above it, a light glowed soft white.

  “Peters, five four zero six three. Accompanied by Dr. Bryson Searls.”

  The light above the door shifted hue to yellow and pulsed. Bryson counted each on-off cycle. A cycle lasted a second, and he counted ten before the light shifted again to green and the door clicked. The guard relaxed. With everything automated, Bryson figured the only reason the guard was there was to take them out if the authorization didn’t work.

  “Welcome back, Ms. Peters. Admiral Hamil is expecting you and Dr. Searls,” he said.

  She didn’t answer, moving to the unlocked door. The soldier scrambled to get there ahead of her and hold it open. The second they stepped through, two new soldiers trailed Bryson, leaving him to walk beside Ms. Peters.

  They had entered a massive hangar. The craft in the center seemed small in comparison, yet it was about the same size as the executive class cruiser Meridian had done their quantum jump test with last year. Bryson stopped in his tracks, suddenly realizing what he was looking at. The soldiers pushed him forward. Ms. Peters didn’t notice.

  “You . . . you already built one?”

  “We made the assumption that the plans we had were accurate, and moved ahead. Since you’ve been here, we’ve modified the engines to your latest specifications. Ah, Admiral Hamil. What’s our status?”

  “It’s good to see you again too, Ms. Peters.” His voice boomed out across the nearly empty hangar.

  The admiral’s response seemed to fluster her. “Yes . . . of course. Good to see you.”

  “We’ve received your latest changes. The engines are complete, and you only want us to modify the shielding?”

  She glanced at Bryson, expecting him to answer the question.

  “Umm, yes,” Bryson said. “We haven’t made any changes to the engines for two days.”

  Admiral Hamil’s eyes lit up. “Ah! The great Dr. Bryson Searls. Your work has given our builders quite a few migraines over the last year.”

  “I . . . umm . . . okay.”

  “Ha! Spoken like a true nerd, eh?” He slapped Bryson on the back, propelling him forward a step before turning back to Ms. Peters. “It’ll take us a couple of days to do the modifications. More if our systems go down again. Damnedest thing. I’ve been up here for over a decade, and I’ve never seen so many back-to-back issues.”

  Bryson tried to hide the shock from his face. Could the virus he’d freed in his lab be causing the issues? If the Sat City’s protections couldn’t stop the virus, they should have at least slowed it down. Breaking through to the military systems showed that it hadn’t. Whoever had written the virus knew what they were doing. He had to admire that.

  “SoCal One has been having issues as well,” the admiral said.

  “Enough about that, Admiral. Will we be able to do a test on July tenth, then?”

  “We should. We’re holding a lottery with our pilots this afternoon. They all want the maiden voyage.”

  “Good. Dr. Searls will be taking a look at your work, to verify it’s ready.”

  “Of course. This way, Doctor.”

  LOS ANGELES LEVEL 4—THURSDAY, JULY 6, 2141 7:11 P.M.

  I left my aunt with Doc Searls. Though he had repaired her hip, the drugs he had given her would keep her out for the rest of the night, and I had a car I had promised to return.

  After that I would get in touch with Pat and Kai and we’d see if the information we had on Bryson formed any sort of cohesive picture. I was tired of not getting anywhere. Even separated from the insurgents, it felt good to know I had people I could still rely on.

  The doc had helped me out a lot during the past year or so. Add to that the huge risk he’d taken coming down to Level 4 to do it again. I owed him not only my life, but so much more. Now that he was down here, the chances of his getting back up to Level 5 would be slim. With luck, the insurgents would help him get through the inter-level corridors and back up there.

  The car was where I’d left it, the keys still in the motor lock. A sure sign I was on a higher level, though I’d still gotten lucky. If I’d done the same on Level 2 or 3, the car would already have been gone. On Level 1, it would have been stripped down to nothing, keys or no keys. I got in and rested my head against the steering wheel.

  What would Ian do if he was alone, isolated, had no way to get in touch with anyone? I sighed. He’d call in favors. Get his friends to help him. The same thing I was planning on doing.

  I unlocked the motor and backed the car out of its spot. There was a man on Level 2 who needed it back. I know he didn’t believe me when I told him I’d return it, but i
t was the least I could do.

  The streets were empty. Everyone was too scared to be out, scared they would be drafted. People almost always felt safer at home. I could understand that. I went on autopilot, navigating the streets down to Level 2 without really knowing where I was. Even then, though, I kept up the vigilant sweep I’d used on my bike, keeping an eye open for anything out of place.

  I still couldn’t figure out why Janice hated me so much. What had I done that had turned her against me? Was it really about finishing what William had told her to do? That felt wrong. It had to be more.

  It wasn’t something I was going to be able to figure out.

  I started paying more attention to the road. I’d picked up another car a few blocks back, and it had followed me around the last two corners. I had been sticking to the most direct route down to Level 2, so there was a chance it was just heading in the same direction. I swept through the next intersection before the light changed and turned right, away from the down-ramp. The car didn’t follow. It didn’t even try to beat the light to keep up with me. I looped around anyway, coming up behind him.

  The car was a standard IBC design, about as cheap as you could get. Even the piece of shit I was driving was a step up from that. If they were trying to keep me under surveillance, they were going to extremes. That thing was more likely to fail than to keep up with me.

  I’d never been this paranoid, even when I was living alone on Level 1. Sure, I had been scared all the time, but I’d never thought everyone was out to get me.

  The closer I got to where I’d borrowed the car, the more careful I became. I wasn’t worried about the police. Even if the owner had reported his car stolen, no one would do anything about it. Not on Level 2.

  I was worried about Janice and her partner. She had a weird way of showing up in unexpected places: the greenhouse, my aunt’s building. I didn’t want to be surprised. The insurgents had never given me a weapon, so if she really wanted to kill me, I’d have nothing to protect myself with. Having a gun, or even my old taser, would make my life easier right about now.

  I pulled up in front of the block where I’d gotten the car. A young boy sat on the low front stairs. As soon as he saw me, he ran inside. I’d barely gotten out when the owner came. He had a length of pipe in his hands, plastic from the look of it, but it would still do some damage. When he got within three meters of me, I tossed him the car keys and took a step back. He caught them and stopped advancing.

  “I told you I’d bring it back.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’m sorry, but it was an emergency.” I turned and ran around the corner. I still had the problem of getting back to my aunt, and I wasn’t about to walk up two Levels at night. I was back to the where I’d started, needing to find a place to sleep.

  I considered the room the insurgents had given me. I was pretty sure I had a change of clothes there, so at least I could get out of this stupid dress. I hadn’t planned on going back, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was the best chance I had. I could sneak in, grab my clothes, and sleep on the street tonight.

  It wouldn’t be the first time.

  ten

  LOS ANGELES LEVEL 2—THURSDAY, JULY 6, 2141 8:47 P.M.

  THE BACK OF the insurgents’ building was dark, the dimmed Ambients creating deep shadows where the light tried to reach over the structure. I’d scoped out this back alley more than once. The insurgents kept people on the roof on a ten-minute circuit. I waited until I saw the patrol leave and crept into the alley. The door was halfway down. I tripped over some garbage; my eyes hadn’t adjusted yet. I didn’t have time to wait.

  The door itself was at the edge of the shadow. I crouched in front of it and grabbed the two bobby pins from my hair, biting off the bulbed ends and bending them into shape. I had six minutes left.

  The first pin slid in and I could feel it lift the locks. I slid in the second and twisted. The bobby pin bent and the door stayed locked.

  Five minutes.

  Pulling the pin out, I doubled it over and reinserted it, using the first bobby pin to lift the locks again. This time when I twisted, the cylinder turned.

  Four minutes left and I was in.

  I had barely closed the door behind me when I was grabbed. Two insurgents took an arm each and marched me to a wall. I struggled, loosening the grip on my right arm before they held even tighter. One of them twisted my arm behind my back and pressed me against the cold fibercrete.

  “What the—”

  “Kris Merrill?”

  “Get your hands off me.” I twisted in their grip.

  The woman searched me while the man held me still. I didn’t know what she was looking for. The stupid dress didn’t give much opportunity to hide anything.

  “Come with us.”

  They didn’t give me any choice, almost dragging me down the hall to the foyer and through the double doors to Jack’s office. One of them got on her comm unit.

  “Tell him we have her.”

  She put the comm unit back in her pocket and pushed me into a chair. I kicked, taking out her leg. She collapsed on the floor. Her partner pulled out his gun, pointing it at my face.

  “Sit!”

  I stared at the barrel and lowered myself back down. He didn’t check on his partner, didn’t lean down to help her. His entire focus was on me, the gun shaking slightly in his hands. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

  The woman got back up and limped to the far wall, staying behind her partner. I heard the doors at the end of the hall swing open. The sound of running feet finally pulled my attention away from the wavering pistol. I risked a glance toward the doors.

  Pat ran down the carpeted hall.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “She broke in through the rear door. Jack’s orders were to bring her here.”

  “He ordered you to stand here and point a gun at her? Put that damn thing away before you accidentally shoot someone.”

  The woman spoke up. “She attacked me.”

  “What, and you wouldn’t have done the same if you were dragged here against your will?” She turned back to the man. “Put your fucking gun away.”

  “She tried to break in.” He didn’t budge.

  “I just wanted to get my clothes, I—”

  “If you don’t put the gun away,” Pat interrupted. “I’ll take it from you.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort.” The woman had pulled out her own weapon and was aiming it at Pat.

  “How dare—”

  “Shut up and sit beside her.”

  For a microsecond, Pat’s eyes lost focus and a flash of pain crossed her face. It disappeared so quickly, I wasn’t sure I’d even seen it.

  She moved faster than I’d ever seen her move before, stepping toward the man, grabbing his pistol hand and driving her hip into his groin. He was on the ground, weaponless, before his partner could even move. Pat aimed the gun at him.

  “Now we have a problem,” she said.

  I stood up and moved behind Pat, out of the woman’s line of sight. Limiting potential targets meant Pat would only have to concentrate on one thing. The woman with the gun.

  “I just came in to get some clothes. I didn’t want to see anyone, so I came in the back,” I said.

  “I don’t care what you did, holding you at gunpoint isn’t right.”

  Pat moved her gun off of the man on the floor and pointed it at the woman. “Drop it.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Drop it and let us walk out of here.”

  I watched as Pat’s back tensed. She was getting ready to pull the trigger.

  The double doors flew open.

  “What the hell?” Jack yelled down the hallway.

  “Call off your goons, Jack.”

  “Everybody put those damn
things away and explain to me what the hell is going on.”

  The woman didn’t move.

  “Put your gun down! That’s an order.”

  As soon as the woman’s gun lowered, I could see Pat begin to relax. She didn’t move hers until the woman’s gun was holstered.

  Jack looked at Pat and me. “Both of you, in my office. And you two. Wait here until I call you in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man on the floor stood and reached to get his gun from Pat. She turned her back on him and walked into Jack’s office. The moment she was inside, she dropped the gun on the desk like it was pure acid and collapsed into a chair.

  I’d seen this before. Seen when her memories came back to haunt her. Seen how debilitating they could be. Jack closed the door and sat down, ignoring Pat.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  I shrugged.

  “You break into my building, fight with my guards, and don’t answer my questions. That’s not going to help you.” He paused. “Okay, let’s try a different question then. You’re using my people for your own agenda, and that’s not the way we do things here. Why are you asking about personnel on SoCal Sat City 2?”

  I didn’t answer, leaning over Pat instead. She reached out a hand and grabbed my forearm, giving it a tight squeeze. She would be all right.

  “Answer the question, Kris,” Jack said. When I hesitated, he looked at Pat. “And you ask me why I don’t trust her? Why I send out a crew to make sure she doesn’t get taken by SoCal? She won’t even answer my questions. This is—”

  “Doc Searls said he thought his son was up there,” I interrupted. “I was trying to find out for sure.”

  “And do what with the information?”

  I really didn’t know. Go up there and get him out? Tell Pat and see if she could plan a rescue? Certainly tell Doc Searls that he was right. He’d discovered that on his own anyway. “I just wanted to confirm to Doc Searls that his son was okay.” An idea was starting to take shape in the back of my mind, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.