by Kyle Noe
“You have to trust me on this, Quinn.”
“You work for them.”
“Not by choice. And so do you, now.”
“Fair point. But you could be setting me up right now.”
“Sure, yeah, I could be. But maybe I’m not. Maybe you have to believe me on this.”
She held his look.
“At some point, you’re going to have to make a choice. You’re going to have to decide whose team you’re on.”
Cody moved close to Quinn and placed what looked like a tiny computer chip the size of a pinky finger in Quinn’s hand.
“What is this?”
“This is me, trusting you. And it’s a map to the other objects. At some point you’ll need it.”
Quinn offered a nod in return, and Cody went back to his work.
On her way out of the lab, Quinn looked over her shoulder at Cody, already engrossed in his work. This could be it. This could be the way they fight back. She didn’t know how yet, but the very possibility enthralled her.
***
Cody was lost in his data. It streamed over countless holographic projection screens as he scanned through, looking for a clue. Then he found it. There it was, right in front of him. Incomputable. He’d been swiping it away as an error each time he saw it. But what if that was the answer? What if the error was occurring because it was supposed to? Because it was being affected by the echo?
His eyes widened. This was his clue. Except, he couldn’t just run data on the objects. He had to expose it. To change what had already happened. Cody crossed the lab and grabbed the piece of exo-armor Quinn had given him and repositioned it in the center of the scanner.
With a quick breath and moment to push past his doubt, he kicked it into high gear.
“Are you sure?” the interface asked. “It could be … unexpected, sir.”
“Yes,” Cody said. “Run the damn simulation, and turn off voice interface. Listen only. I don't like your voice.”
The interface lit up. Holographic images danced around the room and the plasma-driven engine revved to life, making a whirring sound. Instead of a projection of the exo-armor’s eventual outcome, likely a shredded hunk of destroyed material, maybe even burnt and charred from a missile, the piece of exo-armor vanished.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Sight Unseen
Quinn exited the lab, deep in contemplation. The giddiness that came with the possibility that she and Cody had found a way to turn the tables on the Syndicate had worn off, and she was left with competing thoughts. On the one hand she wanted to believe that there might be an end to the nightmare, but on the other, she questioned whether an organization as sophisticated as the Syndicate would have been unable to spot a weakness in its methods or technology. And what of the good Dr. Cody?
On the surface, he’d seemed overjoyed at the prospect of finding a flaw, however insignificant, in the Syndicate’s master plan. But what if, as she’d noted, the whole thing was a setup? What if Cody was just playing a part, and the entire episode was merely a test to see how Quinn would react? Given all that she’d seen, such a scenario was not completely farfetched.
Quinn thought it best to avoid discussing any of what she’d just seen with the other Marines, and so she slipped down a translucent staircase to a middle bay in the mother ship. She moved past a brace of Syndicate soldiers who mad-dogged her, continuing on an illuminated path that led past a mess hall and what appeared to be an immense, robotics bay of some kind.
She looked through frosted windows and watched robots and Syndicate techs labor over various drones, including colossal killing machines with multi-limbed arms that quivered with cannons and rocket launchers and cutting devices.
Continuing down the corridor, she passed under enormous plasma screens that flashed alien propaganda, glossy movie quality images of the Syndicate engaged in glorious combat. Below the screens were a few slick posters with the image of Potentate Benno. Quinn reached up and tried to peel one of the posters down, but the thing was part of the wall, so she had to cut it down. She tucked it in her pocket and trekked on, observing a few Syndicate soldiers emerging from another space, weapons slung over their shoulders. She moved into the space to see that it was an indoor shooting gallery of sorts.
There were myriad shooting bays that looked over a sloped range of about a hundred yards. At the rear of the gallery was a bank of ballistic gel, a substance to stop fired rounds. Behind the gel were reinforced baffles and grates for the ventilation system that removed the smoke from any fired weapons.
In front of the gel were paper targets on wires, along with stationary targets—including a few mannequins that resembled humans. Quinn watched several Syndicate soldiers fire out their rifles, grunting and clucking as they riddled the mannequins with bullets. Quinn grimaced, watching the mannequins, which were filled with what she hoped was just paint, splatter like splashed melons.
She eased into one of the bays and grabbed a Parallax rifle. She checked the ammo magazine on the gun and pulled back on the firing pin. Then she reached over and tapped a red button just below the wire. A machine activated and pulled the target holder toward her on a zip line.
Quinn removed the paper target and replaced it with the poster image of Potentate Benno, then sent the holder whizzing back down range on the wire.
She waited and aimed, then fired a burst from her gun, shredding the poster. She tapped the red button and retrieved the target, admiring her handiwork.
Her eyes ratcheted to the right, and she caught nasty stares from the Syndicate soldiers who had watched her blast an image of their exalted ruler.
“Not the smartest thing in the world to do,” a voice said.
Quinn looked back to see Marin gliding toward her. Marin breezed past Quinn and studied the destroyed poster of the Potentate.
“I didn’t think there was anything wrong with a little joke,” Quinn said. “It’s a free universe, isn’t it?”
Marin frowned and turned the poster over so that it couldn’t be seen.
“We’re not in a democracy, and there is very little here that is free.”
“You seem to be doing just fine.”
“That’s because I know my place.”
“Which is?”
“Didn’t we go over this before?” Marin smiled and inched closer to Quinn. She was one of the few women Quinn had met who was taller than her and had an even more aggressive way of posturing, chest thrust out, shoulders pinned back, eyes rarely blinking. There were few that intimidated Quinn, but Marin was one of them.
“I know you were with Dr. Cody,” Marin said.
“He was checking me out. Wanted to make sure I was all in one piece after the assault.”
“Are you fucking him?”
A few seconds of silence passed between them, and Marin smiled again.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you, Marin, I’m just trying to figure out how to interpret the question and reply in the most snarky way possible.”
“He’s not much to look at, but he knows how to use what he’s been given.”
“You’ve got firsthand experience?”
Marin laughed at this and did a little twirl. Then she turned back and placed a finger on Quinn’s arm. Quinn noticed that they were all alone now, and the lights had begun to dim.
“I can be your best friend in here, Quinn, if you’ll just let me in.”
“See, that’s the thing. I’ve never really been good at playing with others.”
“Everyone needs friends. Especially here.”
“I’ve got enough friends already, but thanks.”
“Not like me you don’t.”
Marin traced an imaginary design down Quinn’s shoulder. A not altogether unpleasant prick of energy seemed to emanate from Marin’s finger, a pulse that fired all over Quinn’s body. The tiny hairs on Quinn’s arms went rigid.
“What were you and Cody discussing?” Marin asked.
“What happened to doctor-patient
privilege?” Quinn said.
Marin laughed again, and then, without warning, leaned in and kissed Quinn on the lips. Quinn was too astonished to react. Her brain told her to throw an elbow, but her body wouldn’t do it. Her muscles seized up and Quinn just stood there as Marin took her head in her hands and kissed her again, long and hard.
“You taste delicious,” Marin said.
Quinn pulled back and Marin chuckled.
“You’ll come around, oh yes, you will,” Marin said, singing the words in a gleeful tone. “And when you do, when I've had you, you’ll tell me everything. Including what you discussed with Cody.”
Marin took a step to exit, and then looked back over her shoulder. “You’re going back, by the way.”
“Where?” Quinn asked.
“To Earth. You and another Marine. A surgical strike, what the Potentate likes to call an ‘In and Out’ job.”
“What the hell for?”
“Patience, Quinn. All will be revealed.”
Quinn turned, and Marin called out a final time. “She looks an awful lot like you, I think.”
Quinn froze, the hairs on the back of her neck ridged like the quills on a porcupine.
“Excuse me?”
“Your daughter. Samantha. How old is she now?”
“Lady, I don’t know who you think you are—”
“I’m the person with the information.”
“Okay, fine, then she’s none of your fucking business years old. That’s her age.”
Quinn’s gaze smoked into Marin’s.
“You should know that she’s alive and safe.”
“Where is she?”
“Would you like to see her?”
Quinn softened for a moment.
“You could make that happen?”
“I could do all sorts of things. You see, that’s what friends do for each other.”
Before Quinn could speak another word, Marin had blown a kiss to Quinn and vanished down the corridor.
Quinn watched Marin exit the range as she turned and stared at her rifle. Then her jaw locked, and she lifted the weapon and fired it out until the barrel started to glow red.
***
Quinn had the strongest desire to hunt Marin down and wring the life out of her, but she realized it wouldn’t cut any ice. She was imprisoned inside a floating fortress, outnumbered, outgunned, and seriously low on options. She wondered if Cody was right about the Icarus unit. Were there eavesdroppers out there whose sole purpose was to report on her?
As she hurried down the corridor, her attention was drawn by a distinctive humming. Curious what could be making the noise, she followed it to a jammed door barely large enough for a human to slip through. The small sliding doors were likely built for mechanics or miniature drones to support routine maintenance.
Yet, the inside was anything but small. Before her was a massive open space that Quinn guessed comprised nearly one-quarter of the entire ship. And what filled the space were terrifying monstrosities. The Potentate was there, walking between rows of thousands of shimmering attack drones like a child admiring his collection of toys—and there were a great many toys.
There were the unmanned spider drones that patrolled the skies, and the eavesdropping ‘bots that slithered snake-like over the ground. And there were the Replicants, drones that could alter their shape and multiply, and Reapers, a favorite of the Potentate, a piece of engineering divinity that stood fifteen feet tall.
Quinn had seen all of them in combat already in a short amount of time, and she knew the devastation they could inflict. This was a room of death, and she wanted nothing but to leave. But the next thing her eyes glanced was so overwhelming she couldn’t look away.
Similar to the Reapers, it was a mechanized, remotely manned killing machine. But this one was different. It was shaped like a humanoid and built like a tank, but looked as if it could maneuver with the dexterity of a fighter jet. And its size was only equaled by its arsenal of weaponry.
Even if all their tactics failed, the Syndicate still had more in its back pocket. And the biggest question that lurked in the front of Quinn’s mind was, what was all this for?
They’d already mostly defeated Earth’s defenses. And all that was left to do was quell the Resistance, enforce their order, and take whatever they’d come for. Why the firepower? Why so much? And why so powerful? Quinn’s head was spinning. She had to get out of this bay of mechanized killing machines and get back to her bunk before she was missed.
She waited for a patrol to pass by the crates she was hiding behind and shuffled back to the sliding door. She slipped out and ran down the corridor without stopping until she was back in the squad bay.
She lay in her bunk, but sleep was a long time coming.
Several hours later, the Marines were roused from their slumber by the high-pitched whine of the same shitty electronic music Renner had worked to silence back in the room with the Potentate. Quinn surmised it was some kind of patriotic song meant to wake the Marines and uplift their spirits. Good luck with that.
Quinn and the others rolled from their beds as Hayden appeared, already clad in his armor.
“What’s the SITREP, Gunny?”
“There’s been an evolution.”
“What? Like Charles Darwin shit?” Renner asked, yawning and scratching his underarms.
“No, jackass, a mission evolution. Orders have come down from on high.”
“We’re going out again?” Milo asked.
Hayden nodded. “This time it’s something a little more surgical.”
Quinn and the Marines gathered their gear and followed several Syndicate guards down to a debriefing room. General Aames, surrounded by Syndicate personnel, stood before a long table lit by a holographic map of the Earth. Quinn watched Aames sift through information on the maps, squinting, muttering to the Syndicate personnel who listened and nodded. Aames looked up at the Marines.
“Be seated.”
At first, Quinn was confused because there was nowhere to sit, but then chairs rose up out of the floor. The lights went out and the map of Earth was beamed into the air in the middle of the room.
“In the last few hours, there’s been a development back on Earth,” General Aames said, moving to stand before the Marines.
“We’ve been able to ascertain that what’s left of the Resistance is coalescing into distinct teams that are located in a handful of areas. These teams have been in communication, and the chatter suggests they’re working to link up.”
Hayden raised his hand as Aames pointed to different spots on the map.
“How the hell are they chatting? Didn’t your boys knock their comms out?”
General Aames grinned. “For that, you get to go to the head of the class, Sergeant.”
Aames turned and gestured to various areas on the holographic map that blinked in yellow.
“While we did successfully neutralize various grids and disable the ability of the resistance to communicate wirelessly, they’ve apparently found a way to talk using an old analog system—”
“Which is impervious to your EMP munitions,” Milo added. “Like what happened during the border wars. The least technologically advanced side ended up winning.”
General Aames chewed on his lips and nodded. “Unfortunately for humanity's long-term survival, yes. But we've been expecting it. Hence, this briefing.”
“Somebody must have the world’s biggest Faraday cage,” Renner said.
“That’s what we need to find out,” the General replied.
Quinn looked at Aames as he dragged a finger across the map and circled an area that Quinn recognized as being a portion of New York City. A warm current shot through her body as she remembered Cody’s map, and the fact that there was another temporal totem located somewhere in the city.
“We’re dividing the teams and going in surgically this time,” General Aames said.
The Marines exchanged looks.
“Quinn and Milo will lead the A-
team. They’ll be inserted via glider and given the task of taking out an analog station that the resistance has been using to communicate.”
“And the rest of us, sir?” asked Hayden.
“You’ll be running interference.”
Renner looked over at Quinn and smiled.
“Look at Quinn, the glory girl.”
General Aames raised his hand, and the holographic map disappeared as the light flashed back on.
“I want all eyeballs on me!” General Aames boomed.
Quinn and the others looked up.
“This is an important operation, Marines. We are going to slip into the heart of the enemy’s house and find a way to blind him. You kill the head, the body follows, and the sooner we end the fighting, the sooner everyone will have a chance to reclaim their lives.”
Quinn looked at the others, whose faces said nobody believed a word General Aames was saying. The notion that they’d be allowed to return to their families was likely, at best, a fantasy, but it was the only thing any of them had, so they nodded in unison.
“Do you hear me, dregs?” General Aames shouted.
They nodded. “Sir, yes, sir!”
“Then let’s go get some!”
“OOHRAH!” the Marines said, in unison.
Everyone except Quinn, who was staring at the figure that was barely visible at the other side of the room. It was Cody, standing, hugging the shadows.
Watching everyone.
Watching everything.
Watching Quinn.
***
Quinn left the debriefing with the other Marines and gathered up her gear and weaponry, readying to join the assault force. She stayed behind in the armaments room for a moment until she was alone, and then she reached down into a pocket and pulled out three Black Sunshine capsules, which was one more than she’d taken the last time. She closed her eyes and felt the capsules melt away inside her mouth, the granules sliding down her throat.
Almost instantly, her eyes widened and she clenched and unclenched her fists. The muscles near the small of her back constricted and her mind expanded. She felt capable of almost anything.