by Jason Mather
Words escaped him.
“This family never says what needs sayin’, that’s just the way we are. Too stubborn, too stupid, all of us. But these are the facts. You’re in trouble, the type of trouble that may require weaponry. That girl you want to saddle me with is not going to stay here if you leave. If what you tell me is true there is no safe place for her. If you leave her here and that man comes for her, a few soldiers aren’t going to stop him. She’ll go with you or she’ll go back to the shit she was in. So, you need to protect her. That thing you got may be useful, but it’s as dangerous as anything I’ve ever seen. I’m not asking you let me charge the battlefield, Hans.”
She wasn’t asking him for anything at all, but he let that slide.
“I know I’m old and slowin’ down a bit, but if the shit goes down I can find a high spot with a good view and help the best way I can. You know I can still shoot better than anyone.”
“I don’t want there to be any shooting, Mom.”
“And you didn’t want to get messed up, and you didn’t want to get fixed up, and you didn’t want to destroy a building with that goddamn sphere, but that’s where we are. My boy is in trouble, deep trouble. I’m helping, Hans, and if you try to stop me I’m going to kneecap you with this rifle and lock you in the damn basement.”
Her voice had gone up. There were tears in her eyes. It was the first time Hans ever really thought she looked old. The last year had taken a face that had still been youthful and cheerful and given it deep-set furrows, the mouth turned down, the eyes dark. Her hair, always red, had finally started to show specks of silver. She’d gotten old while he was away, something he’d thought would never happen. And then he’d come back and laid all this on her, told her he was leaving. A two-day trip had become a lifetime for all of them. Because of him, because of his irresponsibility.
She hugged him then, a rarity. Hans realized that, in their lifetime, throughout everything, he’d never simply held her. His own mother. It was at once awkward and familiar, something not done, yet so easy to do. Minutes passed, she cried quietly into his chest. She’d never cried in front of him, either. He wished she had no reason, but couldn’t help feeling warmth.
She pulled away, kissed his forehead, and unselfconsciously wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Hans, let me help.”
“OK.”
She patted his leg, and retrieved her gun from against the wall, then returned to the closet.
“So where are we going?” she asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
She poked her head out, the moment of weakness long gone now. “Well, don’t you think you better find out?”
“That’s the next step.”
— «» —
Or it should have been. Lori, distraught from the arguing, had shut herself up in his room. Onyx was trying to cajole her out, one of the soldiers next to her offering some candy. Lori wasn’t having any of it. She was curled tightly on his bed, arms and legs around the bear he’d bought her.
Responsibility sucked.
Hans backed them off the door, went in, and shut it behind him. Lori didn’t move. He moved to the bed, sat, touched her shoulder gently.
“You all right?” he asked.
She didn’t respond verbally, practically pounced on him, trying to undo his belt and pants. Hans pushed her hands away, protesting, but she resumed, making a mewling noise. He took both her arms, held them down to her sides.
“Lori… Lori…” He shook her a bit as she squirmed. “Lori! Look at me!”
He didn’t want to yell, but lost his cool a little. She stopped, looked up, still making noises, snuffling.
“Lori, stop it.” Two crying women in one day. He wasn’t used to this much drama. She stopped. He sat her on his lap. She weighed almost nothing.
“Lori, I know what they taught you, what they made you do, but that’s not what I want from you.”
“You don’t like me.”
“I do like you, very much. You’re going to be family. Family doesn’t do that to each other.”
“Yes, they do.”
“Well, they’re not supposed to. I’m sorry for what they did. What they did to you is only supposed to be done with someone special, someone you love.”
“I love you.”
“Well… yeah… but it’s different. We’re family. Like brother and sister. We don’t have to do that.”
She mumbled something.
“What?” he asked.
“If you liked me you wouldn’t leave.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I heard you, you’re going away to do something dangerous.”
“You’re coming with us.”
She’d missed this part. Looked disbelieving.
“I’m taking you with me, to protect you, so you don’t have to go back there.”
“Really,” she still looked doubtful.
“Really. I need you to get a few of those dresses we bought and put them in a bag I’ll get for you so you have something to wear. Then were going for a trip. But you need to obey me and the others so you don’t get hurt.”
She considered this, nodded, “Can I bring Brigham?”
“Who?”
“My bear.”
Jesus. Now was not the time to approach this subject.
“No, unfortunately the bear will have to stay, but we’ll be coming back in a few days.”
She looked dejected, but didn’t contradict him.
“OK?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Good, get a couple of dresses together and a pair of shoes and I’ll go get you a bag.”
— «» —
He went to Grit’s old room, thinking maybe she’d have a backpack Lori could use. It hadn’t been opened in awhile, and was exactly as Grit had left it. Bed made up tightly, no clutter, very little on the walls, a bookcase crammed full of history and science books. A small desk and chair. The one piece of decoration a floor lamp, completely out of place in the austerity. Its shade was pink, lace ruffles running around the top and bottom. Grit had always claimed it came from their father, but that seemed iffy at best. More likely it was a gift and story from their mother to satisfy a young girl’s curiosity.
Han rummaged around in her closet, which, in complete contrast to the room, was completely jammed full of crap. Both his mother and his sister were secret closet slobs. Their houses and rooms were spotless as long as you didn’t open a closet door or desk drawer. He found an old rucksack underneath a pile of papers, some of Grit’s schoolwork, decorated with high grades and higher compliments. He thought it would work.
Onyx had come in silently while his back was turned, and was standing in front of the lamp, fingering the lace absently. He started a bit, looked at her sheepishly. If she noticed she gave no sign.
“We need to use the sphere to find the source,” she said.
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Do you have the sphere?”
Hans nodded.
“Here then.” She went and shut the door, returned to sit on the bed. Hans pulled the desk chair across from her and took the sphere from his pocket.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
Hans had never really looked strongly at her through the sphere’s eyes, never really looked that hard at anyone, but he could see the difference in her now. Her whole being glowed, rather than just a few add-ons. A blue aura surrounded her, flickering across her, coalescing in her chest, where something glowed brighter than anything he’d yet observed. It must be the remote control. He accessed it.
She was around him, through him, inside and outside him. Her memories, his to observe, access, even change. Intimacy beyond anything he could possibly have prepared for. She knew he was there. Felt her surprise, her anger, her cold regard. He could see her face, see her grimace, see his own look of terror through her eyes. Could she see through his?
“Wha
t are you doing?” she hissed at him.
The ultimate voyeur, he could read her life, know her pain. He knew betrayal, murderous rage, absolute fear, and underneath it a core strength beyond anything he could ever have mustered. She (we) would win at all costs. Her (our) resolve would never be broken. Her (our) enemies would not stand against her (us).
“Get out of my head, Hans.” There was a knife in her hand. He could see it, feel it, her muscles tensing, ready to strike, thoughts racing with self-protection and lethal preparation.
He pulled out, shut off the sphere. She was shaking, rage and terror squirming across her face, the knife gripped so tightly her fingers turned an even whiter shade.
“What the hell were you doing?” She barely got the words out.
Hans held up his hands. “I don’t know, I didn’t expect that. It’s never happened.”
“What did you see?”
He considered lying, knew it wouldn’t help.
“Your thoughts. Your feelings. I couldn’t help it, whatever is in your head is so much more powerful than anything I’ve accessed.”
She put the knife down on the bed, put her head in her hands.
“Could you tell what it was?”
“I think it’s another sphere.”
“Like yours.”
“I don’t think so. It’s very similar, but it doesn’t have the same capabilities.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not. I’m running in the fucking dark. The impression I got is that it’s a receiver only, and that’s a very loose impression, the only way to know for sure is to go back in.”
“Don’t go back in, Hans.” There was more fear than anger in her voice.
“I don’t plan on it. Whatever it is seems completely wired to your brain, or maybe it is your brain, at least in this form. It can take commands and control you, or at least your higher functions.”
“So, I’m a puppet.”
“No, I don’t know. Look, Yana, I won’t access it again. If it’s receiving a signal I’ll try to find it another way.”
“Is there another way?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know any of this. When I access the sphere, it gives me the information I need. When I’m using it I just know how.”
“Try again, then.”
Hans did. She started to glow again, the sphere in her head as bright as before. He queried it for information, but didn’t request access. Nothing. He searched for a wireless signal. Again, nothing. He sent out feelers, virtually feeling around its surface programs. Onyx grimaced slightly.
“Do you feel anything?”
“Like someone’s poking at my mind. Or insects crawling through my memories. It’s a fuzzy sensation. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
Hans was stumped. He pulled back to collect his thoughts.
“Try to contact your colleague.”
“I haven’t been able to since yesterday.”
“Just try, I don’t think he needs to respond.”
“What should I ask him?”
“Anything, it’s not important.”
Are you there?
A flash, and a signal left her head. It was not a continuous stream, merely a quanta, a bullet of information.
“There,” he said.
“Hmmm?”
“There’s something, it left when you talked.”
“You want me to try again?”
“Yeah.”
Where are you?
Hans was ready, or at least the sphere was. It grabbed Onyx’s message and hung on its tail, riding it with his carrier signal. It reached its destination nearly instantaneously, but in the world of the sphere Hans’ thoughts were its match.
He felt, saw, knew a barrier to his progress was coming, something the signal could pass, but he couldn’t. A flick of attention, find a nearby access. Offloaded onto a network cell tower. Needed visual. Access CCTV system. A view of a street, deserted, no help. Something higher, a weather satellite. Mark ground access so he could find it. Climb to orbit, redirect camera. Find previous access. Still in Colorado. Zoom. Reached limits of resolution. Blurry image of town nestled against the eastern slope of the Rockies. Almost deserted, the few scattered access points, mostly ID tags of transients, a few larger signals signifying older weapons systems, obsolete surveillance equipment.
It was Colorado Springs, or at least what was left of it. A civil war had taken place here decades earlier. It had always been a strongly religious city, more so as the tide of atheism and apathy continued its inexorable rise. It was peaceful for a long time, until the militants and crazies started moving in. Dictatorships and fiefdoms formed, started raiding each other, absorbing each other like bacteria, until only two kingdoms were left, fighting vicious battles along moral lines. The feds stepped in and declared martial law. The militants were no match for the tech the feds brought to bear against them. In desperation one of the factions detonated a dirty bomb, irradiating three-fourths of the city. Someone else released a weaponized virus. Very few survived. The city was unlivable for decades. Rumor was that both the radiation and virus had faded, but the place was already cursed by rumor. America’s Chernobyl. No one sane lived there willingly.
Yet still many access points glowed. Hans went back to street level, looked for another camera, found one a few dozen miles further south. Things moving along the ground here, their access points difficult to resolve, harder to grab. Hans gave up trying and zoomed the camera in on one.
A pod scurried across the street, followed by two more, then one of the bigger ones from Brigham’s chased after them, itself carrying a few pods stabbing away at its insides.
Hans found another camera, then another, and bounced through a few more before seeing anything new. More pods, people shooting at them. High-tech weaponry, melting the pods on contact. He couldn’t see their faces clearly, but he was pretty sure from the signals what they were.
More like Onyx, Elena, Beefy. He’d only seen a few models, gotten the impression that they’d yet to achieve endless variation. Probably were easier to grow from a template. He took a risk, dove into the nearest head.
In a mind again, part of it, seeing through its eyes. No awareness in this one, no conscious choices, it was a puppet, but where was its strings? He searched for the controlling signal, more confident of what to search for, found it, followed. The barrier came down. He dodged to a nearby network exchange. Malice followed him.
Who?
The words were directly in his head, vicious ire accompanying them, then a wall of digital rage. The sphere flashed him a warning. Something was trying to access it, tearing at its own formidable defenses with sheer brute force, breaking through. For a moment it saw through the sphere, saw Onyx on the bed. Its force redoubled, became frantic, insane.
GIVE HER BACK! SHE’S MINE! GIVE HER TO ME!
This phrase reverberated through Hans’ skull, scattering his thoughts, bulling its way through, grasping at her through the sphere. Only panic saved him. He did the only thing possible. He dropped the sphere on the floor, forcing his clenched fingers to let go, hoping the break of direct contact would end it…
…it did.
The voice cut out, left him alone in his head. He leaned forward, hands clasped together, and put his head between his legs, took a breath, then another. He began to calm down, and sat back up.
Onyx looked worried. Had she felt anything?
“You ok?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I found our location, it’s Colorado Springs.”
“That’s good.”
“No. It’s not.”
Hans described what he seen and heard.
“The body you entered. You say it was empty?”
“Something was controlling it, but there were no memories or feelings, nothing like with you.”
She frowned at his admission of invasion.
“I’m sorry about that, I didn’t know…”
“Forget it,” a short wave
of her hand, almost a chop, “you didn’t know.”
“How long was I under?”
“Fifteen, twenty seconds.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“What about the other?” he asked.
“The being?”
“Yeah, whatever it was that tried to take over the sphere.”
“I don’t know, we’ll have to deal with that when the time comes.”
“That’s not very promising.”
“No, in the meantime I would recommend not using the sphere unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
He wasn’t planning on it. Whatever had attacked broke through his defenses instantly, swatting him down effortlessly. He could not stand up against something like that. If he faced it again he’d lose again.
“So where do we go from here?” he asked.
Onyx didn’t answer immediately. She lay back on the bed, stretched her arms out in front, arched her back, let everything loose, and fell back on the bed. An unconsciously childish gesture, one that showed comfort in his presence. He silently appreciated it.
“We have to go, there’s no debate about that,” she said, sitting up and resuming her normally imposing posture, arms crossed, “But not today. We need to make a few preparations.”
“You got an army hidden somewhere?”
“No. I doubt an army would be much good, just fodder. Maybe a small group could get through under the radar? Though I wouldn’t mind a few more capable guns. Grit maybe?”
“I’ll ask her.”
Onyx had no more to say. Hans stood to leave, turned toward the door.
“Hans?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
He kept his back to her, the easier to make the personal impersonal.
“I know.”
“I’ve asked you to risk your life and the lives of your loved ones.”
“Just mine, theirs are their own choice.”
“They wouldn’t go without you.”
“True.”
“Why do it?”
Hans turned again, faced her. “I thought we already had this discussion.”
“I’ve had second thoughts. It’s getting more dangerous all the time. You’ve already done something for me. You proved that this shell isn’t the real me, gave me a reason to hope. If you want to back out I’ll understand.”