by John Keeble
Aapeli looks good. Stable, alert, no DNA infusion shock. I don't need Galen to reveal what he did to Aapeli. I'll work it out myself.
"The military will come after us," Aapeli says. "They never give up."
"True, but this drone is very difficult to detect."
"The desert is so small compared with what military search drones can cover."
"Be content," she reassures him. "We'll be safe."
A call from Aleksi, at the front to monitor directly ahead, gets her attention. The drone is closing on a small tribal village.
"We could land and ask them if any military units are stationed in the vicinity – they'll know," Alice says loudly enough for Aleksi and Jack to hear.
"I'll fly around the village and then we can decide," replies Jack. "Everyone, watch your search quadrants."
Jack eases the drone between dunes south of the village and gradually circles until, a few minutes later, he runs the drone close to the northern side. No movement anywhere.
"Jack! Does the drone viewing system have magnification?" she asks.
"Probably," says Jack. "I haven't worked it out yet."
Galen walks over, ostentatiously ignoring Jack, and quickly changes the viewing system's focus to magnification. He walks back to his place and Jack turns the drone for another run.
"Down there!" shouts Aleksi. "It's a body."
"There's another!" calls one of the troopers.
Galen, putting on less of a contempt show, strides back to the viewer controls and focuses on the nearest body. It is lying on its back near a hut. The clothes look undamaged but the head, hands and feet are rotting away.
"Maybe we should land to see if anyone needs help," says Jack but Alice can hear his reluctance.
"No!" says Galen. "It would be suicidal to land. No one is alive down there."
"How do you know?" asks Jack.
"I can see. They died from rot death. Only the military has rot death weapons. We should leave this area immediately."
"Explain," orders Jack and Alice tenses. Galen is not going to tell.
"No," says Galen. "Fly on."
For a moment, Alice thinks another fight is going to erupt. But Jack focuses on flying the drone and they head northeast from the village. I must get them to work together.
There is a tense silence. The land unfolds with no sign of life but, from time to time, the dead litter it. After a few bodies, Galen does not bother to zoom in and everyone accepts them as inevitable.
"Galen," says Jack with obvious effort and loudly enough for Alice to hear at the back of the drone. "Can we safely switch on any receiver to discover what is happening here?"
Galen leans in front of Jack and fiddles with the communications panel. Almost immediately, voices can be heard. He adjusts a slider and a single voice emerges, clear and military.
They listen. It is about FedEurope and FedIndia. A spreading rot death epidemic. "The epidemic began among human animals in FedAfrica," the voice says. "Military scientists are—." Galen snaps it off.
"Listen up everyone," says Galen, extending his arms to get their attention and amazing Alice with his cheap showmanship. "I know what is happening and I know how to save you. A military tactical weapons unit lost control of an experimental rot death area-clearance device in southern FedAfrica. If the virus has reached FedEurope, all of FedAfrica is dead. If you want me to save you, you must follow my orders."
Alice reacts instantly. "You two," she orders the troopers. "Secure him to his seat. One of you stay with him." Then she walks to the front of the drone and says to Jack: "I'm sorry. I did not foresee that. I think the genetic upgrade experiments he administered to himself are destabilizing him. Did you see how he used the screen magnifier?"
Jack considers for a moment and says: "Yes, I saw. You know, I used to think I was a leading genetics specialist. Compared with you two, I'm an amateur. What can we do with him?"
"I don't know, but I do know we must keep him alive. He has knowledge that we need." He is giving me that doubtful look again. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, of course," says Jack without conviction.
*
Aini inspects the military's medical laboratory in Colchester, eastern SubFedEngland, and tries to appear interested. He does not want to be here. He is ill, he is tired, and he just wants to get his work done and take the sub-orbital drone to FedOz. But he cannot: he has his orders and he must obey them. He is dependent on the military for transport and protection.
"Commander, it is very kind of you to inspect our laboratory," says his escort, the facility Director. "A good report will help with next year's grant application."
"Next year?" asks Aini. "Rebellion and the rot death virus are consuming the world, and you think next year's grant is important?"
"I'm sure it will help with the grant or my application to serve in FedOz."
Aini looks the Director up and down, superior to subordinate. "I might be able to find something in my center," he says. "I could do that for someone demonstrating his abilities by speeding up the process here and getting me into and out of the genetics research center at Abbotsford near Dorchester."
"Excuse me, Commander. I shall be back in a few minutes."
Aini wastes time poking around this poor excuse for a properly-run laboratory – the only use for its Director would be adding to the scrag line.
"Commander, I have good news for you," says the Director eagerly as he returns. "I can get you on the first wave of troopers tomorrow."
At last. I shall finally get Galen's private files – and prove him a liar and a cheat.
*
White Death is amazed how fast the numan4 military lands a strong force of troopers to defend Sandro and himself.
Their communications blanket the airwaves with demands for the rebellion to end and promise that a brilliant and brave numan2 leader, White Death, will restore order and food supplies.
His mob, even his mother, is shocked. People in the area refuse to believe that he, White Death, the legendary leader of the rebellion west of London, has joined the enemy.
"Then everything got worse," White Death says to himself as he sits alone in his house. A band of rootless Hotheads shot down a military surveillance drone with a captured smart rifle.
White Death plays it out again, maybe for the thousandth time, in his mind: Sandro calls him to the room that was once a prison cell and now serves as a military control hub for the whole region. "White Death, your boys have been naughty," he chides in a tone that White Death hates.
"What has happened?"
"They shot down one of our surveillance drones near Dorchester. We warned against attacks upon us. Now we must retaliate to show our firm intentions."
Sandro produces a small tablet device. "Enter your military security code on this to acknowledge you have been apprised of this development."
This bureaucratic culture! White Death inputs the code as the tablet recognizes his identity from biometric scanning.
Two hours later, Sandro calls him back. "White Death, congratulations," he says, a sly amusement in his voice.
"For what, Commander?"
"You are now the Numan2 Commander of FedUK. All military forces act in your name."
"A proclamation from your Military High Command?"
"Rather better," says Sandro. "There were others, like you, being considered for the role but we won the race. Your decisive action after the destruction of our drone made you the High Command's choice and I am assigned as your military liaison officer. Very powerful positions for us both."
White Death draws into himself, reviews every word regarding the drone. He took no action, decisive or otherwise. "What decisive action?"
"When you signed the order to take a measured and proportional response—."
"I signed nothing! All I did was acknowledge your—."
"Ah, a slight confusion. That was also your order, as regional numan2 commander, to take action."
White Death f
eels a tightness grip the center of his body, a dreadful fear in his mind.
"What did your forces do?"
"The drone was attacked near Dorchester, you recall. I have sent you the coordinates. My troopers, acting on your orders, sanitized everything within five kilometers of the attack."
"You killed people not involved in the attack?"
"Everyone within five kilometers, as I said. The area is ready to be cleared and repopulated as we think fit. What are your orders?"
"I never ordered the killing of numan2s," protests White Death.
"A technicality. It was necessary. Now you are the political head of FedUK, which has been enlarged to take control of the troublesome FedIreland and various islands off FedUK. Every area is now being told of your resolve and shown images from the destroyed area. No other drone attacks have been reported. I take that as a good sign."
White Death absent-mindedly picks up a glass of tea, tepid after being left during White Death's bitter and obsessive replaying of the drone being shot down and the murder of hundreds of his people.
Was there anything I could have done to stop them?
His mind returns to the events, the coup de grâce from Sandro: White Death had jumped aside as a trooper subcommander barged towards Sandro. "I can report that your headquarters..." his eyes take in the room with distaste, "are secured, Commander Sandro. The area within a one kilometer radius from here has been sanitized."
"What does he mean by 'sanitized?'" White Death asks in his most combative style.
"It means what my subcommander says," counters Sandro. "Everyone within a kilometer of here has been killed."
"Everyone!"
Sandro cannot hide his smile of satisfaction. "Except the mother, relatives and fighters of the new Numan2 Commander of FedUK. They are being evacuated to a luxurious village compound. We are distributing video of them to show the advantages of cooperating with us as you have done."
*
Chapter 28
Aini's military drone touches down in the debris of the genetics research center at Abbotsford. The troopers rapidly deploy combat ready but an officer shoves Aini back in his seat. "Stay here until I tell you to disembark," he orders.
Aini waits, his anger and resentment held in check by his need for cooperation. Unbidden, his mind fills the vacuum with thoughts of his past. Galen. Everything was always about Galen.
"Commander, we can allow you to disembark now," calls a young subcommander from the drone's open door.
Aini drags himself and his bag out. He wipes the sweat from his face.
"Are you well, Commander?" asks the subcommander ready with four troopers to escort him into the Center's domes.
"I am well."
The subcommander flicks his hand at the troopers. Two form up in front of Aini and the subcommander, and two behind. The first dome is wrecked. A sour smell taints the air and gets stronger as they walk further into the complex.
"There are bodies of numans and human animals in one of the domes," says the subcommander. "They will be cleared later."
"I am not content," says Aini, turning his head in emphasis as they walk into the next dome and deeper into the stench. "I require good conditions in which to work. Clear the bodies now."
Aini glowers as the officer asks his superiors for the bodies to be cleared. This gut-wrenching stink is too much. It is difficult enough to concentrate with an aching head and the appalling heat.
"They will allocate a squad when it is possible, Commander. At the moment our small force is engaged in more important tasks. I suggest we walk faster."
Aini gags and he hears one of the troopers throwing up. But their ragged procession hurries on, through the second and third domes, into the fourth dome.
"In here," orders Aini, who has memorized the Center's layout.
Everything is just as he expects – so far. An outer office, wrecked and robbed, leads to an inner sanctum. That, too, is damaged and stripped of anything worth the effort of carrying away.
"Secure the entrance door to this suite," he orders. "No one is to be allowed in while I am here."
Aini scans the inner sanctum. Where Galen plotted and worked. Where is he now? The door to the secret laboratory is flush with an impenetrable wall. Its surface and surrounds are badly marked but the door is intact. That does not surprise Aini: a division of troopers could not break through it.
His heart is beating faster. Galen could have cleared or destroyed the files. Every lab is fitted with a self-destruct option but standing orders specify that self-destruct may be used only when security has failed and the system is open to "an immediate and catastrophic threat." Uneducated numan2s would not qualify.
Aini has the door's overriding security code in his head and a transmitter in his hand. The smell of death, the saturated heat, his headache and nausea are forgotten. Everything, his whole existence, is condensed into this moment. This is it. Galen stole my work and ruined my life – now I can find out how and ruin him.
The subcommander and troopers watch him, waiting to see what he does. He enters the code. Thank Dick, it's opening.
"Stay outside," he tells the subcommander.
"I have my orders."
"I don't care. Stay outside."
Aini strides in, hits the door-close button, and ignores the subcommander's protest. I should have guessed. The military maniacs want anything I find.
The room is cool and the air is dry and sparklingly fresh from the cleaning and sterilization filters. He is surprised at its size: it is three times the size of the Marseilles center's high-security laboratory. Even in this, Galen has to have the best. Not for him the worldwide standard design. He has to have the biggest.
Aini carefully walks around the lab, touching nothing, missing nothing. Just as he felt contempt for the Colchester military laboratory's pathetic equipment and organization, so he feels overwhelming admiration – and, confusingly, an edge of anxiety – for Galen's laboratory. Galen's reward for stealing other people's work and claiming the credit at the World Council.
He lingers at experiments running automatically or concluded. He needs time to adjust his mind to the prospect of finding out how his career, his life, has been robbed and exploited by Galen. He was closer than my brother but he stabbed me in the back.
Aini finally sits at Galen's mediamat, a sigh of determination overcoming anxiety and a tremor of excitement. He watches a wall screen come alive and he taps in his World Council security code to override Galen's biometric security lock.
His fingers tremble, excitement and disappointment pulsing through him as he follows subject strings: staffing, accounts, estate management. He should link the mediamat to the FedOz security system to start a dump of Galen's whole system and information files, but he cannot do that. Not yet. Not until he knows the truth.
This is something! Galen's symbols, infinitely more complicated than the symbols they both used in their university years, are locking him out of a secure area. At university, they could read each other's security symbols to follow trails, though they never tried to fool the biometric locks to open each other's machines. Not until Galen found a way into my machine.
Aini sits back: he has enough time to work out how to get through the maze of symbols. It's a game and I can beat Galen this time. A thousand moves later, he is enjoying himself. Almost every move is a failure but he is getting somewhere with the rest. He is nearing whatever warrants such elaborate protection.
Muffled thumps on the door demand his attention. He ignores the interruption and works on, steadily, his mind against Galen's mind. I'm going to win this time!
It is almost an anticlimax when the screen clears and shows folders with mundane names from Father Dick fables. Why did Galen use these names? What should I choose first?
Aini puts off the decision by dumping all the folders and their contents into his personal system in FedOz. In theory, even the FedOz security specialists will not be able to detect movement on his secure chan
nel but practice might be different. I'll worry about Security later.
He wipes the sweat off his face – even here, in the air-conditioned cool, he is burning up. He opens the first folder: title Take It And Pay. He scans the text files and video. They record Galen's attempts to unpick the numan2 DNA control failure. Aini feels his eyes widening with shock: Galen was testing upgrades on himself.
He tracks back through the numan2 control files, looking for evidence of what Galen stole from his machine. The tension finally explodes out of him. This is not my work! At every stage he was far ahead of me.
The realization stuns him. After years of suspicion – no, certainty – he feels a vast emptiness in himself. His failures, his fate of working in FedOz instead of FedUK... everything is down to himself, to his lack of Galen's brilliance.
He moves on to the next folder: Hungry Ghost. He opens it and gasps. "I cannot believe it," he says softly. "I simply do not believe it!" But, of course, he does. The scientific evidence is before his eyes.
He sits back. His head swims like swirling acids, and his eyes ache with the strain of being forced to focus on the screen.
"He has found a way to code memories into genetic strings... he has a test animal alive now," he murmurs to himself.
But when and where did he start? I did some work on this in university. Did he build on what he stole from me? Aini rubs his eyes and goes back to the file. The years click back. Post-university, university, pre-university... "He started this work when he was nine years old," he says. He scans forward to their university years. "He was so far ahead of me... he kept it secret. He betrayed me with secrecy."
But Aini feels his jaw tightening, his shame rising. My theories were pathetic.
He hurriedly moves from folder to folder. Dick, the man is a genius. He is changing the world while I am making meat production more efficient. To one side of the screen Aini sees a tower of folders. He opens the top one, file name My Brother's Keeper. And his world rocks again.
"This scientist has a fine mind"... "freedom to develop unconventional lines of thought will lead to far-reaching advances"... "condemned to agricultural research is an absolute waste of brilliance"... "I have research projects where I would bring out this brilliance by giving him freedom to think in unconventional ways."