by E. G. Ross
"What about you?"
"Me?" she said, rolling her eyes. "Oh, that. He's grown suspicious of me. See, he never wanted me to get emotionally close-only pretend to. He's got a respectable intuitive radar himself. I think he knows I'm against the whole deal, even though I've done my best to hide it. I knew if I didn't I'd have no chance of saving you. He's already given me transfer orders out of here, effective in a month. I'll be off to some igloo in Alaska digging ice blocks for the foreseeable future. He said it's either that or I can opt for a generous, but immediate retirement-and a stiff promise never to talk about any of this. He's been disgustingly polite about it, naturally. He doesn't dare tell me his true feelings."
I shook my head wearily. "God, Lo. I thought stuff like this had gone out with Hitler back in the middle of the last century. I never would have believed that our own military would-"
"Don't pound with too heavy a hammer, Eddie," Lo said sharply, holding up a palm. "It'snot the whole military. I come from a military family and I respect the service. It's an honorable crowd, at least in this country. I doubt if 99.9 percent of the troops or brass would go for this project. Hell, a lot of peoplehere don't go for it, though they only grumble among themselves. You want to talk about rogue? The real rogue is Jefferson. He's been granted so much discretionary authority over this cozy, isolated incubator base that he's grown to think he can do anything he wants. Worse, he thinks God is on his side."
I laughed.
"I'm serious."
"Well, I heard him quote the Bible, but that's no indictment of anyone."
"No it's not-and you don't have to point it out to me. I'm a believer myself. As you probably remember by now, it's always been a point of friendly dispute between us. You being a non-believer. You've got Ayn Rand and I've got God and we're probably going to argue about it 'til doomsday. We've had discussions heated enough to melt the Mojave."
"I thought it was Dan who was the Rand fan. Oh, no. I see. The MI reversed it from me to him. Dirty trick."
I whacked my temple with the flat of my palm, "Geez! When is all this stuff going to straighten out, Lo!"
She squeezed my shoulder affectionately and said, "Give it time. In a few days, no more. Unless God holds a grudge against atheists," she said, smirking.
"I don't call myself an atheist anymore. I've decided I'm a skeptical agnostic."
"Uh-huh. Whatever euphemism you want," she said, chuckling dryly, then fast getting serious again. "The point I was making was that Jefferson has mixed up his religion pretty thoroughly with his inflated ego. Get this. He's convinced himself he's God's personal conduit for cutting edge science."
"Could you be exaggerating a touch, Lo?"
I asked it, because a memory had sizzled to the forefront about Lo's tendency to overstatement under stress.
She shook her head and said, "Not this time; not on this matter. You've got to understand the scope of it. I've got a minor in history, Eddie, remember? Believe me, there have been plenty of screwballs like Jefferson over the years, in governments everywhere, and not just in the military. Once they get enough power, and hold onto it unchallenged too long, they start to feelsacredly inspired. Who's to tell them otherwise? Who's to bring them back down to earth? Once their power becomes almost absolute-as Jefferson's is over this installation-their sense of earthly perspective melts like an ice cube on a summer sidewalk. How do you think the Divine Right of kings was justified, or for that matter any of the theocracies? Oh, I'm not saying everyone falls prey like he has. They don't. But a lot have. Man's history is strewn with the wreckage of their screwy schemes."
"Be that as it may, he's certainly the practical problem standing between me and my freedom."
"That he is. You don't have long to deal with him, either. A few hours at most."
She looked at her watch. "I've got to get back to my station, Eddie. Only a couple minutes to go."
She bent forward and kissed me long and hard, then said a bit breathlessly, "I meant it, you know. I'll help, in any way I can. Let me know if you get any good ideas."
As she moved reluctantly to the door, holding eye contact, I winked and said, "I already have."
She cocked her head and asked, "You have? What?"
"We've got to escape, of course-and forever disappear from the face of the earth."
* * *
CHAPTER 14
Her hand on the door, she said, "That's a heavy prescription, isn't it?"
"No. We can do it. Wehave to do it. Can you rig up your video digital diversion and duck back in here in, say, and hour? Don't worry, Lo. I'm not going to by anyone's pet bull. Not even for the Biblical prize of going down in history as Adam Number Two."
I told her a few more things, causing her to smile brightly, blow me a kiss, and slip out the door.
I showered and shaved and let my brain slide into Slowdown. By the time Lo got back, I had a full-bore plan. Not without risk, but a plan, nevertheless.
"Okay," I said, after stealing a light kiss, "everything all right?"
She nodded and replied, "We've got about thirty minutes to talk, if you need that much time."
"It'll take less than half that. Here's what I've got in mind . . . "
Ten minutes later, Lo left briefly and returned with one of the plant security guards. She used the pretense that I was unconscious and she needed a hand to turn me over to give me a shot. The medical staff was always short on help, so this wasn't an unusual request. The security guards were frequently bored and welcomed a break in routine.
I stayed quiet with my eyes closed. He approached the bed with Lo, chatting amiably and trying to snatch a peek of her cleavage-which she'd encouraged by unfastening the top two buttons of her blouse and deliberately bending toward him. I opened my eyes slightly and went into Slowdown. The light underwent a slight shift to the red. I snaked a fist out and caught him hard under the jaw. He literally never saw it coming. I got out of bed and was behind him in time to catch him. Lo had shifted no more than a fraction of an inch. I was moving many times faster than either of them. If Lo saw me at all, I was nothing but a blur. I willed myself out of the Slowdown and the guard collapsed into my arms.
Lo looked at me in amazement and said, "I didn't see anything! What happened?"
I grinned cockily and said, "Jefferson and Dan were wrong."
"About what?"
As I lifted the guard onto the bed, I said, "They thought I'd only inherited a mental Slowdown effect, not the physical one like my half-brother Kevin. I have both."
Lo's hand went to her mouth in amazement.
"Oh, it's true," I assured her. "Always have had it-and I've always hidden it. Jefferson never found out because he thought the physical version could only work under sudden duress. That's how it is with Kevin, I guess, and his family. Jefferson never imagined that I could control it at will, he never found it. When he tried his tricky tests, I refused to activate the Slowdown. I didn't just out-think those thugs on the streets back in L.A. when I was a kid; I literally ran circles around them. They used to call me the Asphalt Ghost. They were afraid of me. I was always where I wasn't supposed to be and I could never be caught or cornered. It was a survivor's dream reputation. Anyway, I'm glad for it, Lo. Thinking is critical, but it only takes you so far in the world, no matter how smart you are. In this case, we're going to need speed and bruises, too. Let's go."
"God willing," she said.
"I'll trust reason," I said, flicking her pretty chin with my index finger.
"Well, can I at least keep God as a back-up plan?"
"Your choice. Oops, one second."
I tucked the guard into bed on his side, pulling the covers up over his ears. To the camera, when the system came back on live, he'd look like me. His hair was the same color and he was roughly my size.
"Let's blow this eugenics farm, Lo. In a few minutes, you'll 'wake up' and sound the alarm and scream holy murder. It's all up to me now. If this works-if they don't drag me back in within a few hour
s-you'll know I've made it. Then I'll have to bide my time before coming for you."
"When?"
I shook my head and said, "I don't know exactly. It depends on how closely they keep an eye on you. You might be a suspect, at least for awhile. As careful as you've been, you might have missed something."
"I don't think I did," she said. "They'll eventually assume what it's logical to assume: that their super-genius out-thought them. Don't worry. I can handle myself if I know we'll eventually find each other. But don't take forever, okay? I want that ring you gave me to mean something."
I pulled her to me and kissed her in a way that left no doubts.
"I'll know when the time is right, Lo. Just stay out of that frackin' MI machine. It can be used for interrogation, too, you know."
She shuddered and said vehemently, "They'll have to drag me by my toenails to get me into that Devil's device. Besides, I've made plans, too."
"Eh?"
"If you recall, I've got considerable computer programming skills. I've got an idea for how to disable the MI for a long time. I plan to set loose a stealthy, self-regenerating virus that they won't be able to kill short of using a baseball bat."
I gave her a reassuring smile.
"I'm learning to trust your self-preservation drive, Lo."
"As well you should."
"Now, do you have that spare uniform and other stuff?"
"Right here."
She rapidly emptied the 'nurse' satchel that she always carried with her-actually a modified doctor's bag. Given the nature of their work, and the risk of being bloodied or otherwise splattered, all the medical personnel had spare uniforms in the dressing room, which was only a few doors away. Before luring in the guard, she'd stopped and picked out a male outfit; basically pants and a V-neck pullover cotton shirt. I quickly slid out of my gown, crumpled it and dumped it down the room's laundry chute.
"What about the ID badge?"
Lo reached into her pocket and produced one, explaining, "I liberated this. Don't ask how. It's an old one from a guy who used to work here. It won't pass muster close-up, but a casual glance-"
"Right," I said, pinning it on. "I don't plan on sitting down for close-ups. Don't they have miniaturized ID transmitters in these things yet? Hell, they're private industry standard. They were scheduled to upgrade last year. That's what I recall before they mashed me into the MI."
"Only for the top brass, so far. Budgets, you know."
"Security," I swore, "the first to be cut, then the first to be blamed. You'd think they'd learn not to skimp."
"Well, thank God for you that they did in this case."
"Where'd you find this?" I asked, holding up a short, blonde wig-almost a butch cut.
"Sally, one of the night nurses I know. She keeps two or three in her locker. She likes variety. I'm afraid she's not terribly careful about keeping her door code secret. Did I mentioned that I've got an eidetic memory, too?"
"No, but I'm glad," I said, putting the wig on. "How do I look?"
"Not bad. The ID card picture is blonde. That's the idea."
She adjusted the piece to make sure none of my own, darker hair showed, then momentarily put her hand on my cheek.
"Before you go," she said, "one last thing."
"Yeah?"
"Come back to me, Eddie."
She kissed me.
"I will," I said.
Then I smacked her nose hard with the flat of my hand. She staggered and began to bleed like a tipped wine glass.
She grinned through the blood as she let it run all over her front. Nothing like a bad nose bleed to convince people that you were a victim of a crazy escapee. Especially if you were a woman.
"Yeah," I said, smiling. "That ought to do it."
Then I went into Slowdown. From her point of view, I simply disappeared. The Asphalt Ghost lived again.
The Slowdown isn't an unmitigated blessing. The problem with the physical version is twofold.
First, you have to learn a different way of moving. At the speeds involved, you can hurt yourself, or someone else, badly and easily. Speed equals energy. For instance, if you decide to pop a guard on the jaw while under the effect, you have to consciously control that specific action in order to avoid taking the guy's face off. The Slowdown comes with its own, internal compensation system. I've never investigated the details. Without it, I'd burn out my own body with only a few movements; or snap an arm or leg-or my neck. Inertia carries a price, even internally.
Second, despite my genetic compensation factors, remarkable as they are, there's still a price. If I move continuously for too long, I can wear myself out for a week. Back on the streets of L.A., before I learned my limitations, I'd done it several times. I'd ended up as a basket case of aches and bruises and bad scrapes.
That's why I'd developed my own strategy of compensation. I called it Toon Mode. Remember the old cartoons where the cat zipped from tree to tree, stopping at each one, as he stalked the bird? It's kind of like that. The trick is to use the Slowdown selectively, only for those stretches of motion when you absolutely need it. Otherwise, ordinary sneakiness suffices.
Nice theory. There was one problem with that inside the base. Security cameras covered most of the open area in the facility. While they weren't constantly monitored by a live human, you never knew for sure when they were. That's why I needed the male nurse disguise. When I moved at normal speed through areas under watch, I needed to look like someone else, someone who, at casual glance, belonged in this underground magic shop.
In fast speed, I dodged out the door and down into the maze of small buildings and cubicles. Normal exits were off-limits to me. Not only were they all camera-covered, but the codes were changed daily and were for all intents and purposes inviolable. I knew. In my earlier, pre-MI life, I'd helped design the security system. I doubted that they'd changed it much. What I needed was a more circumspect way out.
Alternately dodging in fast mode and strolling casually in normal mode, I made my way to the maintenance building. Logic said that there were probably unmarked exits to the base, because without them, proper maintenance would have been almost impossible. Everything-whether computer programs or industrial plants or bases-usually had ways in and out that were unusual and known only to a few people.
A quick reconnoiter inside the building determined that there were just two people inside, two beefy looking fellows working on a welding project in the back. In a cubicle near the middle of the building, I found a computer work station. It was well out of sight of the two workers and of surveillance.
I went into Slowdown again. It is great for computer work. In a few seconds of hacking-an easy job, since I'd helped install the central system and knew its back doors-I located the basic schematic of the ducts, shafts, by-ways, half-floors, and other passageways and access channels for the various systems needed to keep an underground base like this operating smoothly. Caves within caves, I thought.
It took another several seconds to find the chart of the unmarked exits. All three of the normal exits were either elevators or straight inclines, man-made passages to the base surface. No-nonsense, pour-the-concrete mentality. Two exits were for personnel and one was for cargo. I didn't want any of those.
The unmarked exits, as I'd suspected, opened into the Darkhorse cave system. There were only two. One went into a section of the caves I didn't know about, down on the back of the hill, but the other opened up not far from the howler geyser. The geyser was a part of the power-plant's venting plan, so it made sense that someone would want an easy way to get at it in case something needed to be cleaned or fixed.
I committed both routes to memory, backdoor jumped into the security system and ordered it to unlock the critical doors along my route for a period of fifteen minutes, and then told the master computer to wipe its log of my illegal access. That finished, I checked to see if there was anyone new in the building-and almost slammed into a guy walking past the computer cubicle.
&n
bsp; "Hey!" he shouted. "Oh, sorry, nurse."
"That's okay," I said gruffly. I brushed past him and said, "Just looking for Jack. We had an appointment. Guess I missed him."
"Who?" he asked.
"Maybe it was Joe," I said over my shoulder and walked out of sight around a hallway bend.
"Joe?" I heard him shout, uncertainly. "Wait a minute, buddy!"
I glanced over my shoulder and saw him move toward me.
Great. Just what I needed. A civic-minded maintenance man.
Well, there was a way to handle that. As soon as I rounded a second bend, I shifted into full Slowdown mode and headed out of maintenance toward the power plant. I dodged by three people, who, from my point of view were standing still. To them, I probably sounded like the buzz of a fly going by, a corner-of-the-eye fog that didn't consciously register.
The point of entry to the maintenance tunnel that led to the howler was near the power plant, but the door was outside the main structure, hidden in a sidewall behind a couple of garbage bins. That's where I crouched and caught my breath for about a minute. Normally, short Slowdown bursts like that didn't bother me much. I've got built-in reserves for such eventualities. But I'd been under the MI for two years, and despite electrical stimulation of muscles and supplement-induced boosters, I'd lost some stamina. That red light in my brain was blinking again, too. So far, so good it was telling me-but watch out! Trouble was, I didn't know what it sensed that my conscious mind did not. I peeked in all directions and saw nothing. I listened and heard nothing. I even tried sniffing, but smelled nothing. Finally, I shrugged and tried the door.
It was unlocked, as it was supposed to be according to the instructions I'd given the computer. It squeaked, though, as if it hadn't been used in awhile. I moved in and closed it behind me, manually locking it. The passageway before me was dimly lit and lined with ducts and piping and electrical cables on the left side. It was smooth-walled, green-painted concrete on the right. The passage headed down at about a seven-degree angle. There was no point wasting energy on the Slowdown here. According to the schematics, there weren't any active security cameras in these tunnels anymore. Oh, the cameras were there, all right. I spotted one about every forty or fifty feet. Although they were nearly state-of-the art-Sony 7200 dpi full-color ultra-CCDs-according to the logs, they'd been tagged "disabled" in the base's security program. I was grateful, but abstractly I disapproved. In a place like this,every entrance or exit way should be priority watched, down the throat and up the ass, as one old acquaintance had put it. Sounded good in concept. In practice, however, budgets often severely limited military security. The "nobody'd ever try to gothere !" mentality was also a factor-an attitude that tended to drive security bosses quietly nuts.