System Seven

by Parks, Michael

Austin watched her go. For long moments he listened until her footsteps faded down the hall. Javier approached the open elevator. He tugged him back.

  “I don’t like it,” he whispered to the druid. “Give me a minute.”

  His eyes were drawn to the black wall where it met the gray ceiling four floors up. He rose into the air and pressed both hands to the ceiling first, then to the black wall. His hands almost tingled. There. He could only think ‘trackways’. The feeling of knowing where to go was unmistakable.

  “Hey!” Javier called out.

  Austin turned to see soldiers fanning out on all four floors, leaning over railings with rifles aimed at the druid. In just seconds, they had the lobby floor surrounded.

  “No need to get excited, folks,” Javier said, holding his hands up. “I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

  “Enter the elevator so you can be briefed,” the voice said. “You will not be harmed. If you don’t, you will be considered a threat and eliminated. Please enter the elevator, now.”

  Austin stirred the grid, potential at the ready. A quick count showed over two dozen troops on three sides over four floors. He imagined the attack, a complex strike but with enough energy… he prepared to let it loose.

  Javier said, “I’m interested in what the directors have to say. How about they come down here? Theses couches look comfy. Plenty of room to sit and talk.”

  Austin hesitated, wondering if Javier could talk his way out of it.

  There was a pause then, a moment that drew too long. The next instant, gunfire roared – Javier’s body jerked as rounds struck him all at once. Blood erupted, the rifle rounds passing through the Kevlar.

  Austin screamed and slammed into the grid, slapping the soldiers against the walls, some still firing wildly. He sent a second wave, this time with piercing bolts that struck the soldiers’ chests, force modeling through armor to shred their hearts and lungs. Some missed, severing arms or heads instead. Others missed altogether. One shouted, “Up there!” and swung his rifle around. Austin sheered his head off before he could fire. Quick grid punches silenced the few remaining threats. Gasps of the dying filled the otherwise silent halls. Torn sections of the fabric he wore rippled light to reveal his armor.

  He steadied himself against a dizzy feeling. He’d struck them all down in just seconds and it felt good. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t okay to feel that way... but he couldn’t shake it. He descended to the fallen form of Javier.

  So many armor-piercing rounds had made short work of the Kevlar cap and body armor. Blood flowed onto the gray floors. Part of his left eye hung from its broken socket bone. His face was covered in blood and breathing was raspy and shallow.

  “They can see you,” the druid managed.

  “I know.” He shook his head. “I fucked up. I hesitated–”

  “Don’t whine. Go get ‘em. Don’t wait...”

  He went still then, his breathing gone. The force that had been Javier dissipated.

  “Austin, there is so much you don’t know,” the voice said. “You are on a suicide mission with no chance of success. This can still stop now. I don’t have to send in troops if you just enter the elevator and come up to the conference room. Set aside your rage and open your mind. There is no need to waste your gifts. I would hate to kill you but will if you make it necessary.”

  The sounds of shuffling feet echoed in the hallways.

  Don’t wait...

  He rose to the high corner of the glass wall and released a barrage of intention. Shards of glass broke away from the wall in a sudden stream, ricocheting off the ceiling and falling to the floor. A rough indentation formed in the wall and became wider and deeper as he kept up the effort.

  “No, Austin. Stop that.” The voice echoed in the halls. “Stop or we’ll be forced to open fire.”

  Troops began to file in again, rifles trained on him. He lashed out, crushing them to the floor. For the next several seconds, he alternated between drilling and killing, pacing himself until the first light poured from a small hole. The bodies lay in stacks by the time he bore the hole open enough to enter.

  A control room full of people stared up at him in alarm. Clear glass walls separated additional control rooms situated in a wide circle around a central black glass core. A rapt audience of dozens faced him.

  A uniformed man stood. His was the face behind the voice.

  “Alright, last chance, Austin. Things do not have to get worse. The chaos on the surface can be quelled with your cooperation. Join us to draft the solution or die here and now. Be someone who makes a difference or someone who fails. It’s your call.”

  It didn’t take meta to see they’d been caught unprepared.

  Good.

  He surged towards the black glass core.

  • • •

  On the fifth floor in a closed wing of the Volgograd State Medical University in southwest Russia, four men and two women lay asleep in beds connected to IVs and EKG-type monitors. The room’s blackout curtains kept it dim.

  A door opened and a nurse pushed a cart into the room. If the patients had been awake, they would have realized she was a full ten minutes early for the changing of their IVs. She visited each bed. Upon each patient’s throat she placed what appeared to be a square of pastry.

  When done, she opened the curtains. Afternoon light poured in. For long moments she stared out the window at the busy thoroughfare, at the bustle of everyday life. As if called by name, she turned to face the row of beds.

  “I am ready with Team Two.”

  She sat then, in a chair beneath the window, and waited.

  • • •

  Bastion leaned on the glass panel, ignoring strained requests from the others to move the lounge towards safety. His fingers hovered over two colored areas, one green, one orange.

  “Hurry, Xuet!”

  Austin approached, a floating specter belonging in the dream mesh rather than here. Even Ganzai stepped back.

  The orange button turned to green.

  “Sorry, Tomov.” He touched the panel to activate the field.

  Overseer’s synth voice announced activation. “Containment complete.”

  “In theory,” Nora said as she joined the others in returning to the window.

  Austin’s expression changed. He cast about and found the invisible edges with growing panic.

  Bastion regained composure. “See, it’s done.”

  The field had been defined to encompass the directors’ conference room, not the control room Austin had bored into. Xuet successfully relocated the field just in time. Unfortunately, Director Tomov and his crew were stuck inside its boundaries and might be the first casualties of Austin’s desperation. He opened a channel to the room.

  “Austin, you’ll be held until you calm down. You don’t trust us and that’s understandable. The gaps in your knowledge of the truth are severe but not insurmountable. There is someone whom I think is best suited to help fill you in. Someone you know and can trust.”

  The black glass turned transparent. A wave of surprise rose from the control rooms. Apparently the Council did not reveal itself to anyone.

  “Austin, I believe you recognize this man?”

  • • •

  Austin flew to within feet of the glass and pressed a hand to the field.

  His dad stood behind the glass in a white uniform.

  It couldn’t be him.

  No. They’d taken over his body. Subjugated him.

  That wasn’t his dad. He was long gone.

  “Son, I know this is a shock but it’s incredibly important that you listen to me. Really listen. Don’t act, don’t react. Just listen.”

  It was exactly what he would say. His mannerisms, too, were familiar. His presence filled his senses.

  He blinked away tears that wanted to form. It had been a possibility, but seeing him now forced a painful reality. He fought to keep a mission perspective. The man next to his dad had to be Bastion. Beyond them, Cathbad sat propped in
a chair as if dead or asleep. He counted two guards which left the remaining eleven as the Council.

  “Austin, nothing I can say in the next few minutes will justify the nukes in your mind but there is a larger narrative at work that goes far beyond your current understanding. Trust me on that for now. What you have accomplished so far in the service of the Runa Korda is amazing. It’s astounding and I’m proud of your choices knowing what you know. But it is absolutely imperative that you stand down long enough to hear the entire truth. You’ve only been given parts of it and have been steered according to a specific agenda.”

  “And you haven’t?” He forced a laugh and turned away from the glass, unable to handle the conflicting thoughts. Why hadn’t he reached out to him? Why hadn’t he shared more earlier? How could anything truly justify killing hundreds of thousands of people? Or making the world the mess it was? More than anything he wanted his dad to be acting under duress, not as a spokesperson for the Comannda. If not that, then he wanted him to be an imposter, an agent. Not his father.

  He turned and stabbed a finger at Bastion. “You shot my friend down when you thought it was me. You weren’t able to capture me so you went for the kill. Now you’ve got me and for what? Brainwashing? Forget it. Playing gods and making the world the way it is will never be okay, no matter how comfortable a life you offer me. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you study me. I will not become a template for a human weapon factory.”

  “Austin,” his father began. “You’ve been–”

  “Just shut up. Who you were to me was based on a lie. You are not human now, if you ever were. You are Comannda. That’s your choice, your problem. Not mine.”

  He turned away as if to reinforce the disconnection. A gap of some twenty feet separated him and the floor director. Four others remained seated and watched without fear.

  He lifted the director clear into the air and positioned him so they were face to face. Speaking low, he said, “Director, I’m going to bust out of this bubble or die trying. I promise you that if it’s the latter, you’re coming with me. Now, how do I disable it?”

  “The field?” He shook his head. “You can’t. Your best bet is to calm down and talk with us. Seriously. Get the whole picture.”

  He tightened his grip. “They’ll let you die. Help me and I’ll see that you live.”

  “I’ll live in any case and you know it. I’m just afraid you’re going to screw up my leave. I’ve already had to reschedule my island trip thanks to the Miami incident.”

  The remark set him back in amazement. The director saw it.

  “Look,” he said. “You’re something special. You know it, everybody does. But you’ve been flogging around, pissing off management. You want to make a difference? Stop being a tool. Open your mind. Pay attention to what you’re going to hear. You don’t know the larger truths. They matter. The world is a much different place than what you’ve been programmed to believe. Judge and decide after you know more.”

  Austin shook his head and put the man down. “You’re just fucking sick. What larger truth justifies nuking entire cities? Or keeping a planet suffering for thousands of years? What can you possibly tell me to justify any of that?”

  Director Tomov put his hands up in defense. “The nukes, I can’t speak to. I hate the idea, personally. I’ve got friends who’d get sent on. Too many beautiful places would be ruined for a long time. Keeping people in the dark, that’s another story. Without our efforts, without containment, mankind would descend into madness in just a few generations. Civilizations would crumble. They’re just too primitive, still. Too close to being animals. If you listen and learn, you’ll know it’s true. Not everyone is made like you and I. Humanity needs the framework they exist in right now. The Korda are dangerous and their leaders know just how much so and why.”

  Austin felt a glitch, a change of indistinct origin. He pressed outward but the field held tight. Listening to the director was maddening – both for the disgust and the interest it generated. How much bullshit and how much truth? Were Edward and Sean ignorant of bigger truths? How would civilization behave given access to the experience of shared consciousness? Would it truly be destructive? Had Cathbad played him? The Comannda wanted him to believe so. Still, nothing justified keeping people diseased and dying from cancers and hunger. Nothing.

  He lowered himself to the floor and raised potential. He walked over to a young woman at a console. All eyes followed.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Log448.” At his look, she corrected, “Logistics 448.”

  “Your name, girl. Your name.”

  She looked down and then briefly at the director. “Nadine.”

  “How long have you been working for these people, Nadine?”

  “All my life.” Again his look prompted her. “Since July 2nd, 1923.”

  Bastion cut in. “Austin, I’d like to focus on–”

  “I don’t give a shit what you’d like, Bastion.”

  Nadine screamed then, a brief but intense burst before she fell from her chair to the floor. Blood flowed from her ears and nose.

  “What the fuck–”

  The other three also cried out before falling over, lifeless. Director Tomov shook his head.

  Bastion’s voice took on new emotion. “This is not the time for power plays, Austin, nor for prolonged negotiation. You say you are a truth seeker, but the truth can only be found if you open your mind here and now. What the Korda has shown you is a version of reality, their version. Filtered, redacted to suit their needs. Cathbad is awake now and is wisely prepared to speak the truth. If you can’t accept it, if you refuse to understand, then you will be destroyed.”

  Austin rose into the air to peer into the glass.

  Bastion helped the old druid to his feet and spoke to him briefly before returning to the window with him. Cathbad’s look was weary. His voice filled the room, familiar but strained.

  “Austin. It’s true. I withheld information from you. The Comannda in charge today are not the same as those that started the repression back then. The truth is, we have more in common with them than I wanted you to know.”

  “Nice try, Bastion. A sock puppet would have been more convincing.”

  Cathbad’s hand went up. “No Austin, don’t discount me. If I sound a puppet it’s because I had so completely held your trust before while I lied.” He began to slowly pace along the window, gesturing as he spoke. “I led a campaign to achieve goals that in the final analysis are the same as theirs. Why? Because I don’t agree with their methods. You suspected it. I steered you from it as I have all the rest. There is much more but it’s not important now. They have the upper hand. The Conflict is over. It was never meant to be.”

  “Bastion, this is a crock of shit and you know it. I may be new but–”

  Cathbad held up a hand again to emphasize. “No, son. Set aside your bluster and feel the trackways. They will lead you to the truth.” He stopped near one of the Council women. “Listen to what your father has to say. Work with him. Be prepared to help lead the change that lies ahead. The moment for that is very close, now. With your help, it can be achieved.”

  Floating above the control room, he was struck by the surreality of everything. Once again he felt split, but not just down the middle. Now he was split into jagged pieces, weighted by realities that could be, might be, once were, and maybe never were. He fought the rise of panic. There had to be a message within Cathbad’s message. Was there one?

  “What about J86 and all the nukes? And the wars and disease? What exactly is the goal, Cathbad? How is humanity supposed to evolve under these conditions?”

  “All good questions.” The old druid paced towards Bastion again. “There are truths that extend far beyond your current references. You cannot imagine what makes up life and what happens beyond it. Give your father and I time to bring you up to speed, with the truth. Only then will it make sense.”

  “Bullshit. I don’t believe this.”


  Cathbad nodded. “Of course you don’t. Because you trusted me. Again, I’m sorry for the betrayal. You were destined to be steered and it was my intention to do it right. To do it my way. Listen to me, Austin. As I created you, you are dangerous. If you refuse us now, you will be destroyed. The same for Johan. I urge you to consider my advice seriously. With your help, we can end the Conflict, end all division, and start down the aligned path of the ancient trackways.”

  Bastion put a hand on Cathbad’s shoulder. “It is difficult for you Austin, but give us time and you will understand what–”

  The druid spun suddenly. From his hand a series of lengths of silver extended to form a long blade, swinging in an arch at Bastion. In the same instant both guards fired defensively.

  The sword passed through Bastion’s neck, lopping the Comannda’s head free just as Cathbad’s torso exploded onto the window. Between the blood and gore Austin saw his father dive at the glass control panel before he, too, was shot through. Beyond his pain was a look of pride leveled at Austin. He toppled from view.

  The field dropped.

  Kill them all now now now! Johan’s voice shouted from within his skull. No time no time do it do it do it now now now!

  Austin pressed hard – slamming the grid forward into the glass Core. A wall of shards tore into the High Council, shredding flesh in explosions of blood and fabric. He bared his teeth and grabbed the field of glass as one to grate back and forth across the room, grinding flesh and bone in blender-like fashion. Death filled the space and left nothing to receive his anger.

  He refocused his rage. The glass between control rooms burst outward like buckshot. Director Tomov’s head exploded and his chest burst open, spilling organs in a splash of red and pink. Waves of quantum flux billowed, tearing apart people and machinery. Electrical flashes and fires erupted and screams filled the air. The Comannda were to die, had to. The ceiling bowed upward and cracked while the floor dipped and fragmented under the storm of raw physical pressure.

  The field may come up again! Keep moving!

  He shot back through the opening in the wall. From below guards opened fire as others ducked and ran. He pressed them into the floor. The walls lit with red alert symbols and images identified him. He bolted down the way Hannah had brought them in, shouting obscenities, remembering the souls of Montevideo. Bodies flew, smeared like flies against the white walls. Revenge flowed from their blood. He threw his voice into the killing waves, amplified to haunt their entrance to eternity. He felt like a demon and it felt right – so, so right.