Point Apocalypse

by Alex Bobl

  I stopped and looked at Mira's tearful face. Blank came into the room. The general nodded. In one smooth practiced motion the captain drew his handgun from its holster and placed it against the girl's temple.

  I see. Now they would command me to power up the portal. Father wanted to sever all connections with Earth for one simple reason: the deadly assault virus that Mira had extracted in vitro could easily annihilate humanity which was the general's main goal. Once the virus had wiped out all human and animal life forms, it would gradually lose its potency and would allow new settlers to return to the planet. But if the portal wasn't closed, the virus could work its way back to Pangea through new prisoners or soldiers, and then...

  If you hurt her, I looked at the captain but my words were addressed to my father, you'll never go back home.

  Mira, tell him, the general said.

  She ran her hands across her cheeks wiping away the tears and raised her blotchy face to me. She stared at me without saying a word.

  Mark... her lips trembled. She glanced around in desperation. Mark, they've taken our daughter.

  I felt as if somebody had hit me with a sledge hammer. I hadn't - I couldn't have - misunderstood her because the mental channels transmit every word loud and clear. Vocal chords don't participate in the exchange and the ear doesn't need to detect any oscillation so no spoken phrase depends on the wave length.

  I've got a daughter? I remembered the crudely made plastic toys in the room next door. The little patterned plates, the baby blanket...

  Yes, you do.

  Tears flowed down her face. She pressed her hand to her mouth to suppress her sobbing. Blank looked at me grimacing. He always enjoyed humiliating others. But he derived even more pleasure from cornering his adversary and enjoying his own superiority as he watched them suffer.

  We're together again, my father said to me. We're in it till the end.

  Smothering the desire to throttle Blank, I closed my eyes. How I wished that the general hadn't called off the two cyber troopers by the river. It would have been better that they had killed us there and then without having recognized me. The only reason they had left their posts was in order to give us a decent reception. When they'd reported to my father, he hedged his bets and sent an armored personnel carrier and a mobile escort group in three combat vehicles. He was afraid that my motley crew of friends could have a high combat potential and, not knowing our possibilities, wanted to take me alive.

  I've got to see my daughter.

  Later, the general said. When the job's finished.

  No, I insisted. Give the girl back to Mira. This way I'll be certain that they'll be all right. Then we'll carry on.

  Blank grinned wryly staring into my eyes, his gun still at Mira's temple.

  I'll deal with you later, I said suppressing my anger. After I've solved the main problem.

  The smile disappeared from his face, replaced by a bitingly cold glare. I wanted to put him off balance. Blank flicked the safety catch off.

  As you were, Captain! the general ordered. I'm in command here, and I decide when and who dies. Put your gun away.

  Unwillingly, Blank obeyed.

  Leave us, father added.

  Mira didn't move. The captain grabbed her elbow but she pulled her arm free and thrust her chin in the air as she rose and stepped toward me. I'm sorry.

  She touched my cheek and walked out of the lab.

  General, Blank gave him a cursory nod and left.

  We looked through each other without seeing anything. The general was hiding his hands behind his back. I stood to attention opposite him, mechanically following the regs.

  Stand easy, Master Specialist, father stepped toward the desk and leaned against it knuckles down. Let's put rank aside and speak as equals.

  He blocked his mental channel and straddled Mira's chair folding his arms on its back.

  I waited patiently trying to block out emotions. I needed to know how the general was going to begin because this would affect our later actions. Firstly, I wanted to know how he'd send the virus back to Earth. He had to have a mole among the Feds in the Fort - he must have, otherwise how could you explain that they'd started preparing their mission a week before my arrival on Pangea? The general had most likely used his contact to plant disinformation about his supposed new actions against Earth's security. He then started to demonstrate his strength causing the FSA to start worrying. That's why they'd acted in haste. They'd chemically modified my identity, given me Wong for partner and sent me on a mission to find Neumann and stop the general.

  He rested his elbows on the back of the chair and interlaced his fingers, looking up at me. Probably, second-guessing me too. The longer we were playing this silent waiting game, the further each of us was advancing in his own calculations conceiving a new plan of action.

  So - secondly, the general's and the FSA's objectives overlapped at least on one point. They both wanted me to use the portal machine to disconnect the Continent from the Earth and prevent the Neumann-prophesied apocalypse. The difference was that the general wanted to return to Earth and use the human-free planet as a clean slate to build a new society. The FSA, on the contrary, wanted to isolate Pangea and forget about it for the sake of Earth's security: after all, the unstable wormway and the Forecomers' obscure technologies had instilled terror in many, including governments. No one could foresee the consequences of having Pangea stuck in our back yard and few were eager to maintain relations with the Continent at this cost.

  What did it leave us with? Once Pangea was lost, Earth would lose biocyne, too. But the rich and powerful still wanted to live long so they were now stocking up on biocyne sending out-of-date technology and written-off military equipment to the Continent in exchange for new shipments of carula. Deportees had no idea of its real value and kept sending it by ferry to the Fort, content with what little they received for it.

  I glanced at the glass airlock door. Crossing the room, I looked into the lab and turned back to my father. He raised his brow watching me. A weak smile danced on his face.

  "You've worked it out, haven't you?" he said. "Yes, that's the capsule. The one with the virus inside. It's been here for almost two years now waiting to be put on the boat and shipped to the Fort."

  I peered through the glass. A fat orange tub sat there, looking very much like that of a tactical nuke, only the markings on its sides were different. Orange and yellow, they warned of chemical and nuclear contamination.

  How fucking typical. Varlamov didn't even have to attack the base in order to send the virus back to Earth. The deportees themselves would do his dirty work. The shipment inspections were lax so no one would pay much attention to the virus-containing capsule buried within the seaweed. At the appointed hour, thermite charges would melt the aluminum shell and let death fly. The first ones to die would be the medical staff who dealt with biocyne. They'd spread the virus around their clients in administration. The minister would be one of the first to be affected, and then... then it would be too late.

  "Who do you have an agreement with?" I asked. "McLean? His ferry's taking it to the Fort?"

  He nodded.

  So that's why McLean was so interested in carula. Varlamov had probably hinted to him that carula shipments were important and valuable. He'd planted this idea in his head leaving McLean to ponder over it until he'd driven himself to a frenzy. So when I had come... "Your man in the agency. Can you give me his name?"

  "You're professional, Mark. Let's do it this way: once the shipment clears the corridor, I'll give you the mole's name. Happy now?"

  The general seemed uneasy - worried probably of me throwing a monkey wrench into his works. I nodded to him. Varlamov wasn't Blank. Which was why he'd become a general to begin with. He'd never departed from the rules when he followed his own designs; he'd thought several moves ahead and disposed of unnecessary steps in order to avoid ad-libbing whenever possible. His reasoning was non-standard, his body was modified, his experience was sup
erior...

  "Don't you try to outgame me," Varlamov said. "Your reactions are faster but your abilities are not yet fully developed. You're now one step away from your dream - my dream. Think well what opportunities it will open up to you once we carry it through."

  "What you gonna do?" I chuckled. "Stuff me with more implants? Replacing regular army with cyber troopers was your idea, but no one will need it when you kill off all your men. Who do you want to defend yourself against, anyway?"

  He looked at me calmly, his eyes blank.

  "You're quite prepared to kill my own daughter, my own flesh and blood. It means nothing to you, does it? You never had a family. You scoured orphanages for a child with a unique nervous system and you found me. Then you forgot I was human and turned me into another means to suit your own ends."

  "You're a soldier," his voice was stern. "You're a natural master specialist, a born officer. Don't make me think less of you."

  Wrinkles formed under his eyes. He clenched a fist, ran his knuckles along his mustache and rose.

  "Sure," I stood up and straightened my shoulders. "You always put the end above the means. The only thing you forgot was me and that I was human..."

  "All words," he fobbed me off and stepped toward the door. "Words, and nothing else. It's only actions that matter."

  "They do," I nodded. "You're right. Actions do matter."

  "Guards!" the general shouted into the doorway and turned to me. "By tomorrow night the shipment will be in the Fort. Do what I ask and you'll get Mira and the baby back."

  He walked out. The guards arrived. One of them motioned to me with his gun, and I followed Varlamov along the hallway.

  Chapter Two

  No Way Out

  I awoke and sat up, unable to understand what had disturbed me and how I could see in the dark. My brain, exhausted by sleepless nights, refused to cooperate. My head swam, my belly rumbled, and all thought was suppressed by thirst and hunger.

  I finally pulled myself together and remembered that I was in a cellar under the gasometer. The general had told the guards to bring me here. The memory chip in the back of my head had woken me up after five hours as I'd programmed it to do. The infrared camera lens seemed to be working. "System check," I gave a mental order. The memory chip reacted making me realize that there were no other implants in my body. Okay, I'd have to do with what I had.

  I stood up and did a couple of toe-touches and arm circles, then a few squats to get my blood going. The stapled scar on my chest didn't trouble me that much. I was about to pick the staples out but reconsidered. Let it heal a bit more.

  I was alone in the room with rough stone walls, a floor but no doors. Instead, a guard hovered on the threshold.

  "You gonna feed me?" I asked him.

  He didn't answer but waved to another soldier in the corridor. They exchanged a few quiet words and the guard came back alone.

  "Apparently, you are," I mumbled and sat on the floor listening to the dying footsteps in the hallway.

  Five minutes later, they brought me a pack of field rations without a spoon or a fork or even a can opener. The soldier used his bayonet to rip open a can of beans, freed up a plastic container from some candy, hardtack crackers and what-not, and poured the beans into it. He filled my mug from his flask and left.

  They seemed to be seriously thinking that I'd want to escape. They were right. The top of a can in skilled hands like Wong's, for instance, could become a very effective weapon. I shook my head, took a pinch of cold beans, threw it into my mouth and started slurping slowly. Then I reached for the mug and froze.

  Apparently, the remains of my slumber were finally swept away - or maybe the food helped as it's well known that one thinks better on a full stomach. In any case, what was worrying me was the fact that the general didn't just chance on mentioning the cargo or McLean. He never did anything off the cuff. I didn't think he'd lied to me. More likely, he'd said it to distract me and make me concentrate on a way of stopping the ferry, thus overlooking other important details.

  Mechanically, I sent another handful of beans flying into my mouth and washed it down. I'd never make it out of here alone. Without a car, I couldn't get to the city. Besides, I had to take Mira with me and I had no idea where my daughter was.

  Phew. I listened to my stomach rumbling. Wong, Kathy and Wladas had to be somewhere nearby. If I freed them and explained to each what to do next, my chances of success would improve greatly. Kathy and Wladas could be trusted to guard Mira and her daughter while Wong and myself could deal with the general's men.

  I nodded and decided to leave only Kathy with Mira and the baby, adding Wladas to Wong and myself. To stop the cybers, we needed a neurotech and Wladas' qualifications allowed him to do just that. There was little left to accomplish: leave the room, acquire some guns, kill most of the guards on my way upstairs, find my friends, Mira and her daughter, split up, find a safe place for the latter and win.

  Easier said than done. I glanced up to where the guard stood in the doorway, took a large gulp and attacked my food. There was no knowing when I'd be fed again but my body would need fuel. I finished off the beans, wiped my fingers on my pants and shoved the crackers into my hip pocket. I might need them later.

  Varlamov was sure I'd start the machine. I had no choice: I had to do so for Mira and the baby unless I managed to free them earlier and fuck off out of the old city. But: I still had to intercept the cargo, stop and ferry and let the Fort know about the possibility of the virus reaching Earth.

  I still couldn't believe that the general would embark on mass murder. It wasn't like him. Otherwise he wouldn't have tried to lead the Feds up the garden path luring me out to Pangea.

  The sentry in the doorway adjusted the rifle strap on his shoulder and jumped to attention, chest out. Hurried steps issued from behind the wall, followed by a loud snap and the sizzling of an electric current. Something popped like a blowpipe. A breech clacked shut. Surprise on the guard's face gave way to a grimace of pain when the needles of the taser sank into his cheek, a spasm doubling him up. The once-sagging spiral leads of the taser grew taut, the needles ripping skin from their entry points. The soldier fell face down, his head thudding on the stone floor. He convulsed a few times and fell silent.

  I sprang to the door and recoiled. I was looking down the barrel of a silenced handgun. In his other hand, Captain Blank held the taser.

  Freeze! I heard in my head.

  Blank stepped out into the corridor, lowered his hand and shot the guard in the neck. Then he trained his gun back on me.

  What does that mean? I asked.

  I'm letting you go.

  You killed the soldiers. Why?

  No, a predatory grin appeared on Blank's face. You killed them both. You shot them. Mira brought you a gun and you decided to leg it. Hands up.

  He motioned me with the barrel to follow him out of the room. His gun still trained on me, he stepped over the body and walked backward along the hallway.

  What do you want? I bent my elbows keeping my palms up.

  The second sentry lay by the wall with a shot wound to the head next to a pool of blood.

  I want to finish what we started, Blank stopped by the fork in the hallway letting me onto the stairs. The passage behind his back was covered in darkness. The general thought himself so smart that he'd outsmarted himself. He glanced back. Now run. You might still have just enough time to say good-bye to him.

  He spoke in riddles. What was happening?

  Blank ejected his clip and the round up the barrel and threw me the gun on its last round catch. Then he pointed the taser at me, the flashing red light on its side signaling maximal charge.

  Now run, he repeated. I'll give you a minute's headstart. Then I'll raise the alarm.

  I bolted up the stairs two steps at a time trying to remember the detailed plan of the gasometer's layout. Five stairwells converged on a central wheel that housed utility rooms and the central hall with the Forecomers' machine
. From there, there was only one way out, the one we'd been brought in through. Where could they keep the prisoners, Mira and her daughter? What had Blank meant speaking about the general?

  I took the safety catch off the gun. Just in time. A soldier stepped toward me from above. He didn't have time to raise his rifle: I slapped his cheek with the butt of the handgun and pushed him up against the wall pressing my elbow into his neck. I shoved the barrel into his cheek and hissed, "Move and you're a dead man."

  But he did move. Either he'd noticed that there was no clip in it or he knew it from beforehand. He whacked me in the liver, moved one step below and got a pulse charge in his back from Blank's gun.

  The soldier clung to me with a suppressed cough spattering my face with blood. The charge had passed through the back of his vest. The chest armor expanded but contained the charge. We fell onto the stairs.

  Blank's steps came from beneath. I grabbed the dead man's shoulders and raised myself up slightly. Shielding myself with the body, I took one step up and stumbled. A new shot rang out. This time, the charge hit the soldier's head and blew half his skull away, splattering me with gray matter mixed with blood and shattered bone.

  I crawled into the hallway on my back. There, I turned on my stomach and jerked myself away from the stairwell. One sole thought beat in unison with my pounding heart: What was Blank's goal?

  Using an open communications channel, the captain sounded the alert. I ran along the rounded hallway past the rooms crammed with equipment in boxes on prefabricated stands, all the time hearing behind me the growing tramping of feet and the sound of excited voices. Finally I came to the right exit and turned into it.

  Father lay on a cot between the cabinets. He was already dead. His glazed eyes glistened on his pale face under the ceiling lamps. His lips slightly parted. A silver cord from an army pendant that had been hanging on the wall was drawn taut around his neck.