Deeper and Darker (Deep Dark Well Book 3)

by Doug Dandridge

  “Get going,” yelled Maindalkar, waving the naval techs through first, then the A fire teams of the squads. “Heavy weapons,” he yelled, and the Marines with the heavy beamers jumped to their feet and ran to the hole, while the B teams laid down covering fire. The Marines with the large beam weapons jumped through the hole, then the B teams. Maindalkar waited until the last team was the only one still firing, then jumped through the hole himself.

  There was the moment of disorientation as he moved through the opening. The now familiar unfamiliar feeling of being everywhere at once, time stretching out to seeming eternity. His internal clock told him that less than a nanosecond had actually passed in transit, and he wondered, not for the first time, what the experience meant, if anything at all.

  Now time passed too slowly to suit him, as he waited for the last five people to come through. When, finally, the last squad leader came through he breathed a sigh of relief. They had carried out the mission to perfection. Three suits had sustained significant injuries while protecting the wearer from anything of note, while a half dozen more had suffered very minor damage.

  “All clear, ma’am,” he reported to his Commodore. A moment later the hole constricted to a pinpoint, before the carrier moved into a slot in the wall, returning the wormhole to its primary function as a probe link.

  At the other end much the same happened, the hole constricting, then being engulfed again into the probe, which flew out of the hangar just before the doors could close.

  “Pack it in, people,” he told his platoon. “Get your suits squared away. And good job.”

  * * *

  Admiral Emilio Tounces sat back in his chair, all of the energy leaving his body. He had thought it was a bad idea trying to stop the invaders from taking what they wanted. But I had to try something, he thought. Otherwise, I would be facing punishment, and not just for myself. No, he would have been considered a traitor to his Emperor, and treason was punishable by death. A long, drawn out, painful death. And for his family as well. And now I have doomed the other people under my command.

  “That was really stupid, Admiral,” said the woman who appeared again on the holo. “I would be within my rights to destroy your ships.”

  Tounces felt all the air leaving his lungs as he waited for the next words, those he was sure would doom him and his command. He pulled air back into his lungs while he tried to compose himself. “Please. If you want to punish anyone, punish me.”

  “I have a better idea, Admiral,” said the woman with a cold smile. “Something that will satisfy both of us. But I recommend that you do not fire back.”

  “What are you going to do?” he said, his eyes widening.

  “Nothing too drastic,” said the woman. Tounces stared at her with a combination of hate and fear dominating his thoughts. Mostly fear, if he had to be honest.

  She was looking off the holo, obviously at some other crew member, or possibly a holo display. She looked back at the Admiral. “We have looked over your ship schematics and picked our targets. According to your own database, this should not harm any of your people. But I will give you one minute to make sure there are no engineering personnel in any of you upward hyperdrive arrays.”

  “That will cripple us,” he said, checking to make sure no one was actually in any of the access tunnels in those arrays.

  “According to our analysis, it will reduce your capability to hyper III at worst, IV at best. That will not strand you out here, but it will take you at least two weeks to get to your nearest base, and then another two weeks to get a message to your capital. That should give us just enough time to do what we need to do.”

  The ship shook as lasers and particle beams played over the upper array of the vessel. Warning klaxons sounded. A holo sprung to life near his chair, showing a schematic of the battleship, glowing red superimposed over the upper hyperdrive array, growing by the second, until the entire array was red. The targeting was absolutely perfect, and no other areas of the ship were damaged. It took several minutes, while the Admiral sat in his command chair, talking himself out of opening fire on the woman’s force. And then she’ll destroy us, he thought, believing everything that she had said.

  “OK,” she said, looking at him out of the holo. “That about does it. You should still be able to get to your base in two to four weeks. Just remember that I could have destroyed you. And please give a message to your high command.”

  “And what message is that,” thought Tounces, wondering if he would deliver this note before or after he was executed for failure.

  “Tell them I just want my man back,” said the woman, her eyes blue fire staring out of the holo. “And anyone that gets in my way will have a split second to regret it.”

  The holo died, and the three large destroyers on the main viewer opened up holes into hyperspace, and disappeared from the normal Universe.

  Chapter Six

  Treachery is noble when aimed at tyranny.

  Pierre Corneille

  Tony Garcia looked out over the people assembled in the room, his emotions alternating between fear and pride. Pride that these other men and woman had answered his call to be here tonight. Fear of what they had risked, and were continuing to risk, to belong to The Opposition. We take every precaution, thought the leader of the cell, who also doubled as one of the overall leaders of the movement. And we still are only a moment away from being caught.

  Jorge Hernandez came walking in the door to the small room, passed by the man who had taken the security duty for the cell this time. Carlos Kastanata was armed and dangerous, and would give his life before he allowed someone not on the nonexistent list through the door. That might give some of them time to vacate the room. Then again, it might not, and even those who were able to flee could still end up in custody, and a fate, to these free thinking people, worse than death.

  “Where’s Jackie?” asked Jorge, looking around the room at the fifteen people who were in attendance, and the five empty seats. “Was she…?”

  “She’s fine,” said Freddie Santana, smiling. “She had a nursing shift tonight, and wasn’t able to get a replacement.”

  Jorge nodded as he got in his seat. They all knew that in their society they were not always free to go where they wanted, when they wanted. Not without attracting attention from the people they wanted to escape the notice of.

  “You know why I called you all here?” he asked the members of his group, each a leader of another lower level cell, and just about the only members of the Opposition he personally knew among the hundreds here in the capital.

  “I have a guess,” said Katherine Ramirez. “But nothing definite. They captured him, right?”

  “Yep,” said Tony, nodding his head. “They got him. He’s a, guest, of his Immortal Asshole. And I’m not sure what we can get out of this, but we’ve got to figure out something. A chance like this might not come along again.”

  “But a chance for what?” asked Jorge, his eyes narrowing. “A chance to strike at the government? Or a chance to let ourselves be known to that same government, so we might be annihilated.”

  The people started talking, some calling out what they were afraid would happen, others whispering among themselves.

  “What do you think we need to do?” asked Tony, raising his voice to speak over the noise. “Continue to meet and discuss how we are going to bring down a government that seems to get more powerful year by year? Watch as this immortal demon continues to gobble up star system after star system, subjecting them to the same hopeless existence that the rest of us already enjoy? Or do something? Anything?”

  “Give us a plan, Tony,” said Jorge, glaring at the leader. “Don’t just tell us we need to do something. Tell us what that something is.”

  And that’s the rub, thought Tony, looking back at the man who was his only challenger for the leadership of the cell. There didn’t seem to be anything they could do. Not with the security measures this government used to monitor its population. Not with all
of brainwashing this society subjected their own population to, making their neighbors the enemies of the people who wanted to free them from the tyranny that held them in bondage. Over ninety nine percent of the population felt as one with their leaders, in lockstep with the Empire that was spreading its beneficent influence over the Galaxy.

  All of the members of the cell, of the score of cells across the city, the hundred others all over the planet, were among the one tenth of a percent of people who were immune to the brainwashing, the subliminal, the sights, sounds and smells used to program the rest of the population. They were assessed while they were growing up, those discovered to be different separated and subjected to a higher level of programming, or, for those who couldn’t be broken, simply disappeared. That reduced their numbers. More fell by the wayside through the years, caught in a lie as people who didn’t accept the party line while pretending to do so. Only the smartest, or the luckiest, made it into adulthood.

  And there was always the risk that they would be caught and sent off for reeducation. That in itself was a double edge sword. If reeducation was successful, they would be released back into society. If not, they would disappear. No one knew what happened to those who were disappeared. There were rumors, not anything substantive. But enough to play on their fears.

  “Look,” said Tony, running his eyes around the room. “I don’t know what we should do. But we need to do something. Every year there are fewer of us. The authorities are getting better at discovering our kind, and fewer children are slipping through the net. If this goes on much longer, we will have no new recruits in the future. Eventually we will disappear, whether from being caught or dying from old age. And history, the true history of the Galaxy, will die in the revision of this new order. Everything we know to be true will be labeled as false. Freedom will die, as an Immortal devil becomes the eternal ruler of a slave state.”

  “So, what should we do?” asked Katherine, looking down at the table.

  “Think,” said Tony, slapping his hand on the table. “Come up with ideas. Find a way to use this, Abomination, for our own purpose, or at least take him out of the toolbox of the Emperor.”

  “Is he any better?” asked Jorge. “The Abomination, I mean. After all, he is said to be the cause for the fall of Galactic civilization. Is he any better than the Emperor we have to deal with today?”

  “Not according to what we know of history,” said Tony, shaking his head. “In fact, he might very well be worse. But he is not in a position of power, and we’re not about to give him one. The Emperor is in power, and he is the one we need to hurt. He intends to get political mileage out of dealing with the Abomination. We need to take that leverage away from him. So, you all are smart people. People who can think for themselves. So think, come up with ideas, and we will meet again in a couple of days and brainstorm. Maybe it will come to naught. Or maybe we will come up with an idea that will weaken the foundations of the Empire, before it spreads its cancer through billions of cubic parsecs of space.”

  He could tell from the expressions of the group that he had planted a seed. These people would think, research, formulate, and come up with plans that might bear fruit. Or not. But at least they would work on something that might benefit themselves and the other people in the Galaxy.

  Tony was one of the last people to leave, waiting as other members left in singles or couples, trying to not attract attention to themselves. Curfew was still more than an hour off, and the streets were crowded with people going home from their work, or the bars and restaurants they frequented before having to go back to their dwellings. When curfew hit, the streets would be empty except for those who enforced the law, and the small percentage of the population who had legal reason to be out, such as late night jobs in important positions.

  He left the room through the door that led into an underground corridor that would appear on no maps owned by the authorities. The secret door of stone and brick slid aside, letting into a stairway that led down to a subbasement, and up to a small series of rental offices below apartments. Tony rented an office in the building for legitimate business purposes, and a couple of members rented apartments. In fact, Jorge owned the building, and thus had an excuse for being there any time he wanted. Most of the cell members were either successful businesspeople, professionals, or mid-level government. They were, of course, still under surveillance, like all citizens, but because of their positions were able to avoid more than the superficial check.

  Tony looked up and down the street as he left the building, flat comp in its case hanging off his shoulder on a strap. The background buzz hit his ears as soon as he entered the air of the street, the constant sound that his ears more or less ignored. He knew what was in that background, subliminals telling people what to think, what to believe, what to do. Tony was among those who couldn’t be affected by such, or the visual subliminals, but he was aware that they were there, and he could see the effect of them on the faces of the normals who moved along the street on their own pursuits.

  Most of the people had a blank, smiling look, a façade that Tony was quick to put on his own face in order to blend in. It was one of the first skills the immune developed if they were to escape attention. It had taken a little longer to learn how to adopt the complete package of body language necessary to blend in as an adult, but every member of the cell knew how to make that theatrical adjustment.

  There were some people on the street who did not have the silly smile or relaxed body language. Men who were dressed in the uniforms of the police, or the black clothing of the secret branch of undercover spies. These men had hard faces, suspicious eyes, their gazes constantly on the move, looking for the first sign of deception among the people moving down the street.

  Tony felt the tension building in his body as he moved to the transport station. He would have thought it would get easier with time, but was finding it anything but. As the years passed the tension increased, along with the realization that his time might be coming to an end, just because of chance over multiple events. As he threw himself into the chair of the transport and the train left the station, he felt relaxation coming over him, especially when he saw that the half empty car was filled with slightly smiling faces. He almost let his façade fall, but retained it, remembering that not all surveillance was conducted by the official organs of the government. Part of the brainwashing of citizens was the deep instruction to watch their neighbors, and report anything that seemed unusual.

  There was a very tense moment on the walk from the station to his home. A woman he had seen at times on the walk home was being backed into an alley, her eyes wide with fear. Tony could tell from her body language and facial expressions that she was one of the immune. He didn’t know if she was the member of another cell, or just an individual who was trying to make her way through this society without drawing attention to herself. And obviously, at least on this day, failing. Tony made sure his expression was as perfect as he could make it, while cursing himself for a coward in not doing something. But what can I do? he thought, looking back and seeing more uniformed police heading toward the alley the woman had been pushed into it. He could interfere, and draw attention to himself, and there would then be two immunes arrested.

  And he wasn’t even armed. Tony had access to weapons of course, but he didn’t carry them around. That was asking for trouble, when only the authorities were allowed to carry weapons. He had studied the history of this world, the real history, not what the government pushed into the brains of the people they programed. That had been the turning point, as far as he was concerned, when private citizens had been forced to give up their means to defend themselves. All in the name of making the world a safer place. After generations of being protected by the government, the people were ripe for the takeover of that very same government, under the firm hand of the Immortal they had found in the early days of exploring their local star cluster.

  We live in a nightmare, thought the engineer as he rode the l
ift up to his own apartment. Sometimes I wish I could just go to sleep and not wake up. It would be so much easier.

  He dismissed those thoughts as he walked into his own apartment on the eighty-ninth floor of the building, his small dog yipping in pleasure as it ran up to him and circled his legs. The bright lights of the city shone through his living room window, the orange bulk of the gas giant Odin filling much of the night sky. It is beautiful, thought the man, sitting on his couch and petting the small animal who was the only companion he could trust outside of the cell. And someday we’ll bring that realization back to the people who live in this nightmare.

  * * *

  “Why don’t you just give us the information we want?” said the gentle, calming voice over the intercom. “It will be so much easier for all of us if you would just cooperate. We have no wish to cause you pain. We will get what we want, eventually. We will get what we want, eventually, so why not save yourself all of the pain and discomfort?”

  Because you will not get what you want, thought Watcher, gritting his teeth as he waited for the pleasant voice to leave, to be replaced by the harsh cacophony that was sure to follow.

  Watcher had been created to be the perfect soldier by a government that, while mostly benevolent, was still in the business of governing, and had need of military force at times. And they wanted that force to be under organic control, meaning they needed a living creature to be in charge. Watcher was thought to be the answer, the perfect soldier, spy, general, faster and stronger than other humans, or any other intelligent creatures for that matter. And one of his genetic gifts was the ability to resist any kind of interrogation thought up by the minds of sentient creatures.

  The cacophony returned, blasting in his ears, the subliminal messages riding underneath, while swirling lights played over his optic centers, bypassing his closed eyes. Pain shot through his nerve endings, enough to make a normal person fall to the floor in agony, vomiting the contents of his stomach. Watcher gritted his teeth and fell into a calming mantra, ignoring all of the noxious stimuli. I will not give you what you want, he repeated to himself over and over in his mind. At the same time he was very happy that he had given Pandi access to all of the Donut’s security protocols. Hopefully she had changed all of the passwords, and nothing he gave them would actually be of use.