Stealth Power

by Vikki Kestell

  Gamble, restless under forced inactivity, prowled the circumference of the cavern. I wondered how the FBI would view Gamble’s MIA status—and I wondered if Cushing’s suspicions had fallen upon him. Was she now also looking for him?

  Dr. Bickel still wandered through the ruins of his lab, picking through the debris, finding the odd piece or part and adding it to a growing collection.

  Zander held my hand, but his chin rested on his chest, his breathing heavy in sleep.

  I was so weak! I was unable to do more than twitch a finger or two, but something different had settled in me—and I couldn’t figure out what it was. My hold on life was precarious; my thoughts jigged here and there—but that “something” held steady and seemed to gain strength even amid my weakness.

  Something? Something in me, of me, at my core, had changed, and it had nothing to do with the nanomites. I tried to look at “it” objectively, but it refused to be quantified or slotted into a preformed, presumed category. I prodded it, but it could not be dislodged.

  What was it? What was it speaking to me?

  I kept poking at it, hoping to figure it out.

  When it came to me, I was stunned: I was no longer afraid to die.

  “Jesus?”

  My peace I give you. My peace I leave with you . . .

  Peace. Yes, that was it. Peace.

  I drifted away again.

  ***

  “Gemma. Gemma?” Zander leaned over me, concern etched on his face. Gamble and Dr. Bickel stood watching not far away.

  “What?”

  “You were mumbling. ‘Pieces’ or something. Listen, Dr. Bickel wants to know if you’ve noticed anything, any changes.”

  “The mites . . . working. Slow.”

  “The mites are working? They spoke to you?”

  I nodded, just a fraction. “Feel . . . some energy.”

  Zander looked at Dr. Bickel. “Did you hear her?”

  My old friend half grinned. “Yes, I heard. It may take the nanomites many hours more—perhaps days—to reconstitute the nanocloud. However, I’m very encouraged.”

  I was encouraged, too. Things were looking up! We’d taken Soto out of play and we were within a few miles of the FBI field office, of getting Dr. Bickel into the public eye before Cushing could stop him. I had hope that as soon as the mites restored the nanocloud, they would restore my body—and then we would press on.

  I looked up. Gamble hung nearby, like he wanted to talk to me.

  I smiled a little. “Thank you . . . for coming to get us. I know I kinda used Soto to blackmail you into sticking your neck out for us.”

  Something in Gamble’s expression bothered me.

  My smile fell away. “What?”

  He dropped to a squat next to me and grabbed my hand. “Just . . . well, there hasn’t been a good time to tell you this.”

  “Tell me what?” I clutched at him with the little strength I had.

  He sighed. “Soto. We always figured he had informants inside APD, maybe other local LEOs. Turns out he owned at least four guys in the APD gang unit. Right under our noses.

  “Last Friday, we were transferring Soto to his arraignment. One Don Benally, a trusted, five-year gang unit vet, led a three-man APD team as an auxiliary guard during the transfer. Benally’s team surprised and overpowered the federal agents. Now Benally, the other turncoats, and Soto are in the wind.”

  I stared straight ahead. “Listen to me, you *blank*! I know you’re still here. I know you’re listening; I know you can hear me. You think because I can’t see you that I can’t find you? Oh, I will find you—but first I’ll find those you love. Don’t sleep, you *blank.* Don’t even blink! Because I will find you, and I will pay you back for this.

  Zander’s glower should have shriveled Gamble. “Did you need to tell her that now? Can’t you see she’s too weak to handle that kind of stress?”

  Gamble grimaced. “Yeah, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, and I know she’s in a weakened condition, but actually? Gemma’s a lot tougher than you think she is, Cruz. And she needed to know. Forewarned is forearmed.”

  I nodded my agreement, but I was shaken, more undone than I let on.

  ***

  Within the cavern, the light never varies. The sameness, the unchanging ambient light plays havoc with a person’s circadian rhythms. Eventually, though, we all slept.

  The next time I awoke, the cavern was still. I wrestled with the jacket Zander had placed on me and managed to sit up. Lightheadedness hit me, and I fell back against the pillows until it eased. Then I struggled to sit up again. I leaned on the arm of the old cushioned chair, my head wobbling like a bobble head on a dashboard.

  Gamble was passed out in the sister of the old overstuffed armchair I occupied, his long legs stretched out before him. His head was tipped over the chair’s cushioned back, his mouth open.

  Zander lay on the cold stone floor not far from me. He was wrapped in a blanket I imagined had come from Dr. Bickel’s old sleeping quarters. A soft whiffling told me he was deep in slumber.

  I didn’t see Dr. Bickel anywhere.

  Gemma Keyes.

  “Yes, Nano?”

  We are making steady advances now, although progress is still slow. Our ranks are growing; our tribes are coming back on line. The healthy are mending the injured. Power is stable and manageable.

  “Yes. I-I feel a little better, too.”

  We are effecting repairs.

  “On me?”

  On all tribes.

  “Thank you.”

  We are six, Gemma Keyes. We are not stubborn; we are determined.

  As I slipped down into healing sleep, I vowed that I would never confuse the two again.

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 31

  The next time I awoke, Dr. Bickel, Gamble, and Zander were engaged in a lively exchange—a conversation an observer may have mistaken for a contentious squabble. The three of them were crowded around something on the other side of the worktable, Dr. Bickel’s voice raised in belligerent protest.

  “Young man, do not dare to patronize me! I know perfectly well what I saw in those few moments the microscope was functioning. I assure you—”

  “What?” I pulled myself up to sitting. “W-what did you see?”

  “Gemma!” Zander grinned like a crazy man and raced around the table. “How are you feeling?”

  I shrugged. “Not too bad, I think. What’s the commotion?” I grasped Zander’s arm and pulled myself up until I was sitting on the edge of the chair.

  Zander glowered in Dr. Bickel’s direction. “Your Dr. Frankenstein there cobbled together a microscope from some broken remains. Said microscope worked for all of half a minute, and he insists that in those few seconds he saw what the mites are doing. Yeah, right. We’re having a hard time believing him—it’s too preposterous.”

  “What did he see? What’s too preposterous?” I was inclined to side with Dr. Bickel—I already knew the mites were capable of much more than he’d ever dreamed they were.

  Dr. Bickel drew himself up to his full height—which only came to Gamble’s shoulder, so not all that imposing. Nevertheless, he raised his voice in that authoritative-yet-condescending manner I knew all too well.

  “Reverend Cruz, just because the microscope functioned for mere seconds, does not mean my observations are suspect. Besides, we all saw that other clamshells had been opened.”

  “What?” I demanded. “What are they doing?”

  Gamble studied me with an inscrutable expression. “See the clamshells? Do you remember how Dr. Bickel had organized them? Stacked them on top of each other?”

  “I dunno, Gamble. Gemma wasn’t exactly with it when we brought her in here.”

  Well, I hadn’t been that out of it, had I?

  Um, yeah, I think I had been.

  I struggled to my feet, crossed the short distance to the table, and leaned on it. Hours earlier I had seen Dr. Bickel remove a veritable treasure trove of wafer carriers from h
is hidey hole. He had arranged the plastic carriers on the worktable in stacks that conformed to their tribal markings. In all, I thought he had retrieved a dozen clamshells or more per tribe from the niche in the wall.

  Well, Dr. Bickel had said he had enough printed nanomites to reconstitute the nanocloud several times over, so the number of carriers hadn’t been that surprising.

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  “He opened one clamshell for each tribe, right? Later, he opened a few more. Well, about four hours ago, the top clamshell on that stack popped open.”

  “It what?”

  “It opened up. By itself.”

  “The nanomites.” I was certain of it.

  “Apparently so. And Dr. Bickel here says that he thinks the nanomites have gotten into all the clamshells. The seals on all of them are broken”

  I turned to my old friend. “What did you see? You said you got a SEM to work. What did you see?”

  Dr. Bickel cast a look of disdain in Zander and Gamble’s direction before he answered. “The nanomites have elected to activate all of their compatriots.”

  “Say again?”

  He sniffed—again, at Zander and Gamble. “I believe that they are not merely replenishing their numbers; they are releasing and activating the entire population of printed nanomites. While the microscope was functioning, I examined three wafers. The first wafer was from the clamshell on top that opened, ostensibly, of its own accord. The second wafer was from a clamshell at the bottom of that stack. The third was from the bottom of another stack.”

  “And?”

  He huffed. “All three wafers were bare.”

  “What do you mean, ‘bare’?”

  “The printed nanomites were no longer there.”

  I sagged and hung onto the table’s edge, the enormity of what he’d said hitting me. I closed my eyes and entered the warehouse. “Nano?”

  Yes, Gemma Keyes. We are pleased to see you feeling better.

  “Um, thank you. Uh, I have a question for you.”

  Yes, Gemma Keyes.

  “Uh, did you . . . that is, how many new nanomites did you activate?”

  Silence. Then, We are six, Gemma Keyes. You know this.

  “Right. I do, but . . . within each tribe are certain, um, numbers of individual nanomites. Can you, that is, would you tell me if the numbers within each tribe have grown? Increased?”

  I waited. They did not answer. I opened my eyes and found the three men staring at me like I was the bearded woman in the circus.

  “Just having a little conversation with the nanomites,” I explained.

  Lame as that sounded, Gamble kind of shrugged, and Dr. Bickel stroked his beard in his very old-school, mad-scientist way while nodding with his ‘but of course’ expression.

  Zander just watched me. “So, what did they say?”

  “Nothing yet—Oh! Hang on.” I closed myself off from the guys and listened.

  Gemma Keyes, although it serves no purpose, we have performed a count as you requested.

  “I thank you for going to the trouble for me, Nano.”

  They didn’t acknowledge my thanks, but went straight into a report of their count.

  We are six. Alpha Tribe. 4.3732 trillion. Beta Tribe. 3.7792 trillion. Delta Tribe. 6.4229 trillion. Gamma Tribe. 3.1026 trillion. Omega Tribe. 2.9842 trillion. Gemma Keyes Tribe. 1.

  They counted me? They counted me as a tribe!

  I grinned and almost laughed—before the other numbers hit me and I ran a calculation in my head. “So . . . more than twenty trillion?”

  The count is 20.6621 trillion. The count will increase as we finish bringing new members online and continue to effect repairs to the damaged who can be saved.

  The number was many more times the size of the original nanocloud—and they weren’t finished? They were still repairing mites the Taser had damaged?

  Gemma Keyes. Come to us. We desire a confab.

  “Okay.” I slipped into the warehouse. The halls that led away from the warehouse’s center were long and distantly shadowed as they had been before, but the warehouse itself was brilliant. Expansive. Shining. New.

  My heart swelled with hope. Saved! The nanocloud was saved and restored! I was still a bit wobbly, though, and I wondered why my body hadn’t responded as quickly as I thought it should have.

  Maybe I just need more time to recuperate.

  Then the mites spoke to me.

  Gemma Keyes, we wish you to step away from the others who are watching. Go toward the entrance by yourself. Meet us there for the confab. Ask the others to remain behind; they must not interfere.

  Strange.

  Very.

  Interfere with what?

  “Uh, sure, Nano. Which entrance do you mean?”

  The entrance by which we arrived two days ago.

  We’d been in the cavern for two days?

  “All right. Be there shortly.”

  I opened my eyes. “I . . . the nanomites have asked me to step away from you guys and meet them over by the entrance.”

  The three men stared at me. Zander spoke first. “Meet them? Aren’t they inside of you?”

  “Yeah, they are, but that’s what they said: ‘Meet us there.’ They have asked for a confab—a meeting of the six tribes to share data and arrive at consensus. And they told me, ‘ask the others to remain behind.’ Actually, they said . . . they said that you must not interfere.”

  Gamble shook his head. “Must not interfere? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  Zander agreed. “Me, either. What are they up to?”

  I leveled my gaze at the two men. “You don’t like the sound of it, but just what do you think you could do about it?”

  Zander cut his eyes toward Gamble, and the FBI agent cleared his throat. “Well, since you put it like that.”

  Dr. Bickel, the lines between his eyes scrunched together, pushed Gamble and Zander apart and placed his hands on my arms. Squeezed. “I’m not afraid the nanomites will harm you in any way, Gemma, but whatever they wish to discuss with you in private must be important.”

  “Yeah. Must be.” I was getting nervous.

  I looked from Zander to Agent Gamble. “Okay?”

  They nodded, but their body language said otherwise.

  “Don’t come over there while we’re meeting; the nanomites were adamant on that point.”

  “Got it,” Gamble growled.

  Zander came up to me, cupped my face in his good hand. “I’ll be praying for you, Gemma. Whatever happens, you belong to Jesus now. He has you. And whatever happens, I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”

  Then he kissed me. Right there, he kissed me. On the lips! A real, honest-to-goodness kiss. His beautiful grey eyes sought mine, looking for and finding what he yearned for—what I yearned for.

  “I love you, Gemma. I’ve been wanting to say that for a while.”

  “I know. Me, too. I love you back, Zander.”

  Then I turned and walked away.

  On shaky legs, I made my way across the cavern, toward the rock face that screened the secret entrance. I stopped on the other side of what had been Dr. Bickel’s lab and glanced back.

  The three men watched me. Zander raised his hand just a little. I nodded in acknowledgement.

  I kept walking, past the stacks and piles of old furniture, until I reached the entrance.

  Come closer. To your right, Gemma Keyes.

  I moved right a few yards. Zander, Gamble, and Dr. Bickel could still see me, but not as well.

  Look up, Gemma Keyes.

  My gaze drifted up to the cavern’s ceiling where it met the wall, where the ever-glowing light fixtures ringing the cavern were mounted. I squinted. A haze hung in the curve of the ceiling—a misty fog. It swirled a little and filled with beautiful color: Silver, blue, and white. Then it bunched, gathered itself into a tight ball.

  The nanocloud.

  “Nano. You . . . you aren’t in me?”

  Why did I feel so bereft?
>
  Some of us remain in you, Gemma Keyes. We are six. However, we are larger now.

  “Yeah. I can see that, but . . . but don’t you dislike being separated like this?”

  Yes. We face a dilemma, Gemma Keyes. For this reason, we have requested the confab.

  A dilemma? I shook my head. What in this universe did the nanomites consider a “dilemma”?

  When I didn’t say anything, the silence grew. I was still weak; I began to shake a little.

  Gemma Keyes, it distresses us to see you in a non-optimal state.

  “Yeah, thanks. Me, too.” I didn’t add what I was thinking: So why haven’t you fixed me?

  The silence dragged on until I asked the obvious question. “Nano, what is the purpose of this confab?”

  We are six, Gemma Keyes. We . . .

  Their answer trailed off, and I couldn’t wrap my head around what it sounded like: The nanomites were at a loss for words?

  “Spit it out, Nano.”

  Spit? We do not spit, Gemma Keyes.

  I dragged an old office chair toward me and fell into it. A cloud of dust rose when I plopped into the seat. “Look, Nano. I’m tired and unwell. What is it you wished to discuss?”

  Very well, Gemma Keyes.

  Still they hesitated—and my heart thumped a little faster.

  Gemma Keyes, we are six. You are Gemma Tribe. You have carried us. We cannot bear being apart from you, but . . . you asked for a count of our ranks. You understand that we are larger now, much larger. When we were smaller, we effected changes to your body that provided us with a hospitable environment. When you became Gemma Tribe, we effected other, more fundamental changes to your body.

  “Yes . . . I know.”

  We made those changes without adequate forethought and without your express permission. This was . . .shortsighted of us. We understand that now; we understand that we placed your body’s continued well-being in jeopardy, because . . . now you cannot live without us, Gemma Keyes.

  I swallowed. “Yeah. I know that, too.”

  We did not foresee the day this fact would threaten your existence.

  “What . . . what does that mean?”

  The dilemma, Gemma Keyes. Our present ranks are too many to inhabit your body—the nanocloud is too large: It would kill you.

  We did not foresee this when we liberated our fellows. This is the reason why the nanocloud is divided; however, those of us within you cannot remain apart as we are now. Separation threatens our survival—and we must survive.