What the hell kind of impact suit did Jameson give him, anyway? The damn thing was amazing.
Reynolds considered his options. He was out of jet fuel for the boot jets.
He couldn’t jump to the top of the silo with only grain to brace himself against. Just not enough leverage.
He stared at the wall in front of him. He saw only one option. Burst through the side wall, fall all the way to the ground, and let the suit absorb the impact.
No other choice.
He set his feet in the shifting golden grain—and launched himself toward the outer wall.
Or tried to.
He fell face first into the wheat, and the boosters in the suit drove him forward, burrowing five feet deep into the grain. The wheat was like quicksand. His first thought was he would drown.
Surely the good lord above won’t let me do that, he thought. He’d been living a good life, taking care of others. As Commander Rocco had given the orders he had played the role of making sure everyone under their command had everything they needed. And if they didn’t, Reynolds had sacrificed his own provisions to make sure they got it.
How did he deserve to die this way?
But then he realized—the suit had its own oxygen supply. Just don’t panic, he thought. Don’t use it all up.
He swam his way to the top. When he climbed up out of the grain he was wheezing, his body exhausted by the effort. The bullet wounds were taking their toll. The pain starting to sing to him once more.
He just needed to relax and try again.
Rising to his feet, he leaned back against the far wall of the silo, bracing one foot against the wall, the other still balancing him in the wheat.
Man, I hope this works.
And launched himself.
The launch was awkward, off target, and once again he felt himself propelling toward the grain. It rose into his eyesight, and he prepared to burrow even deeper this time when blinding light stabbed into his visor.
Sunlight.
He’d done it. The steel ripped away from him, and he was airborne.
Falling.
The ground rushing up to meet him
Oh crap!
WHUMP!
The suit took all the impact. He felt nothing.
He sat up and peered around. There was no sign of the Council Guard. It looked like they’d already cleared out and somehow left him behind. He could only imagine what was happening to his troops. Maybe they’d gotten away.
He wondered where he was. He couldn’t recall how far the suit had taken him before he hit the silo.
A light flashed in Reynolds’s eyes, and he spun, ready to fight—
Only to realize it was just the suit’s GPS function firing up.
He took a breath. Centered himself.
Okay, now he knew where he was.
How the hell would he find his troops?
That was easy to answer—he wouldn’t. He had no idea where the Suns were either.
What do I know? he thought. I know where COR is.
A voice broke the silence, and Reynolds nearly jumped straight out of the suit.
“Entering travel mode,” the voice said, and Reynolds realized it was the suit, in Jameson’s voice, talking to him.
The voice spoke again. “Anti-collision auto-function enabled.”
“Cool,” Reynolds breathed. But then a knot caught in his throat. It was going to be like talking to the kid the whole time!
He plotted his course to the Baltimore HQ using the roadways, but then deleted it when he realized what a stupid idea that was—if he didn’t want to get caught.
As the crow flies, he thought. He plotted a straight line to the HQ.
“Commander Reynolds,” Jameson’s voice asked, “you are requesting the most direct route, is that correct?”
Reynolds smiled. “Yeah, I am.”
He felt the back of the suit open. A 3D graphic showing Reynolds the whole process flashed up onto his HUD.
Rocket engines unfolded on his back. And ignited.
“You gotta be shittin’ me!” Reynolds exclaimed and was launched into the air.
CHAPTER 11
NORRISTOWN, PA.
Rachel pulled a small, flat piece of what looked like Silly Putty out of her utility belt.
She peered down at the door lock on Scarlett and Spectral’s room. She glanced back up at the security camera in the corner of the ceiling and smirked. She knew Lantern was watching, so she flipped him the bird. It was not like he could see her.
Invisibility and all.
She mentally typed a message to Lantern. “I’m at the door.”
She placed the putty into the doorknob's keyhole. Inside, the putty molded itself to the shape of the locking device. She pulled it out slowly. The putty had formed into a key. It took thirty seconds for the mold to turn solid. She inserted it back into the lock, and the door clicked open.
“Going in,” she sent to him.
At that very moment, Lantern sent a blip of static across the camera in the hallway just long enough to let Rachel enter the room. By the time the camera came back online the door to the room was once again shut.
Rachel had already rifled through their things several times on her previous visits and had found nothing incriminating. They were traveling light. On this pass through she checked to see if anything was new or out of place. Any sign they’d been up to no good.
Once again, there was nothing amiss. No hidden message tucked away in books or magazines or anywhere else. Rachel searched all the places people tend to hid things, but nothing.
Most everything in the room were items provided to them by the facility itself, anyway. There was no computer in the room due to Revolution’s strict minimal-communications policy. And in any case, Spectral was a fully functioning super computer. Not like they needed a laptop.
“Looks like they’re headed back,” Lantern said to her in her com.
“Okay.” she whispered. “I’m switching to fly-on-wall mode,” she said mischievously.
“Be careful. Spectral has a motion detector.”
“Yeah, I’ve done this a time or two,” she deadpanned back.
She darted back to the door to double-check she had locked it.
She had.
Then she retreated to the front corner of the room, leaned back against the wall, made herself comfortable, and waited for the door to open.
When it did and the duo entered their flat, neither of them seemed to notice her. Her suit not only made her concealed to the naked eye, but to all but the most sophisticated motion detectors. Even heat-displacement scanners could not spot her. Spectral probably had all of the above. But neither of them showed any sign they knew she was there.
Scarlett waited for the door to close and then moaned. “This is killing me! I just want to go home. Do you know what I would give for a warm bath in that big claw-foot tub?”
“Smart ass.” Scarlett proceeded to the bedroom, which was open and mostly visible to Rachel from where she stood in the front corner of the flat. Scarlett began to disrobe, starting with carefully removing the blue metallic headpiece.
Spectral’s eyes glowed white.
Scarlett shot him the middle finger. And stepped out of the rest of her clothes.
Rachel nearly snorted. She thought-typed a quick note to Lantern, who was listening in via her belt mic. “What the fuck? Swear to God. Porno movie about to go down here!”
“Stay focused,” came back instantly, scrolling across the HUD of her glasses.
Scarlett grinned at the android. “Would you now? Have I told you what a burden it is to have you as my bodyguard?”
shot back in a totally new voice that mimicked some East Coast comedian.
Rachel was floored. She’d no idea the android had any other voice than the dry, robotic tone he normally used. Maybe Spectral could use any voice he wanted. Which made sense, given all the other capabilities the android had. She’d just never thought about it before.
Spectral moved to the side, out of Rachel’s view, but she knew what he was going for. The massage table.
The android had it set up in a matter of seconds and had pulled a set of sheets, body oil, and a bottle of lotion out of the small bathroom’s cabinets just as quickly. He prepared the table with the sheets, and Scarlett lay face down and stretched out. Spectral immediately went to work, and Rachel felt her own body quiver with jealousy. The tension in Scarlett’s face seemed to melt away.
Damn, that’s one lucky woman.
Rachel nearly salivated as Spectral glided the oil all over Scarlett, from the tops of her shoulders to the bottoms of her feet.
“Not quite so much heat,” she told him as he worked her shoulders.
Did the robot actually have heated hands? Now this was really starting to piss her off. How could she get her own Spectral?
“I hate this woman!” she shot back to Lantern. Just then Scarlett let out a long, low moan, and Rachel added “Sounds like they’re having sex.”
“A carburetor sounds like sex to you. Focus,” he told her again.
Scarlett pulled her red hair to the side to give Spectral greater access to her neck. “Why do you think John set up this scenario the way he did? Why pretend to kill Revolution?”
Rachel shot to attention. Now maybe they’d find out something!
The android didn’t flinch or pause in his work, though his eyes did briefly flash white.
“Not that they’re using that advantage,” Scarlett interjected.
<—Along with providing both a wave of sympathy for the Resistance and a real-world test of how much of a boost the death would bring his movement.>
“Do you think they realize that?”
Her head popped up. “Oh yeah. I hadn’t realized you’d analyzed him. So, who do you think he is?”
Rachel nearly squealed. She sent Lantern a note. “Shiiiiiiit!”
Despite her training, despite the warning bells going off in her head, Rachel moved in closer. Wanting to make sure she could hear every word of his answer.
“Yeah, well?” Scarlett couldn’t stand it. She was propped up on her elbows now. “Who?” she demanded.
Suddenly, her face regained its tension, and her eyes popped open wide. She rolled on her back and peered up at him. The android’s eyes had turned white. “What?” she breathed.
TRENTON, NEW JERSEY
Eric Von Cyprus admired his bare hands as held them out in front of him.
There was nothing unusual about them at all, and that’s exactly what was so remarkable. He sent a mental command to the silver metal electrosleeves that covered both arms from just above his wrists to just below his elbows. On command, metal from the sleeves unfolded downward, inch-walking along his hands, his fingers, until metal gloves covered both of them.
Von Cyprus smiled broadly.
They worked.
He just needed to finish up a few more tweaks and he would be able to wear his electrosleeves full time if he wanted. He scanned the room, and his eyes fell upon a small waste basket on the other side of the long narrow work space he was in. High-tech projects were everywhere. Lining the walls, strewn across the work bench he was standing next to, but it was that little garbage can that held his attention now.
He aimed his palms at it and fired. A laser-guided black bolt of lightning shot out from the glove and enveloped the trash can.
It burned into oblivion.
He cackled with laughter. He would soon be able to go about his daily activities completely protected by the sleeves, but with no more bulky gloves, at all times. The best of both worlds.
He glanced around him. It was so good to be back in Trenton. Back at his lab again. He breathed a sigh of relief and began the work of slipping off the sleeves. He still needed to make them more comfortable. He strolled across the room and placed them on a shelf for later. Right now he had more pressing matters.
He returned to the long work bench on the other side of the room. In the distance he eyed a shiny new suit of armor. Von Cyprus swiped up a clipboard and began reviewing the figures in the suit’s new energy production report his staff had brought him. Von Cyprus glanced back up at the new suit of battle armor. They were testing it in a few hours. It was bright green with gold accents in places, which made the suit look very modern, Von Cyprus thought.
He loved the design.
A smile cracked his face. The results were just what he had expected.
The person who was about to walk into his lab was not.
“Hello, Eric.”
It was Bannister Tarleton.
“Mr. Chairman! No one told me you were coming,” the scientist stammered as he soiled himself.
“Because I told them not to. You like surprises, don’t you, Eric?” Tarleton shot him a shit-eating grin that seemed to say the CEO knew he did not.
Tarleton walked to the long work bench, eyeing all the various devices that were laid out across it. “So many toys, Eric, so many surprises. From you. A man of great vision and knowledge.”
Tarleton was making the scientist nervous. Why was he using his name so much? Why was he grandstanding like this? Tarleton was not one to beat around the bush.
This was not good.
Tarleton casually stalked the work bench, handling each device in turn as if he were examining them as he spoke. His diction was slow, precise, deliberate. It implied a threat. “You see, Eric, one of the ways I am different than my predecessors is that the other chairmen used their power to make more money. Whereas I have used my money to gain more power.”
On cue, a dozen heavily armed Council Guard marched into the room, creating a semi-circle around the two of them.
Tarleton stared the scientist down hard. His mouth was still smiling, but there was murder in Tarleton’s eyes. It was plain to see.
“I have eyes everywhere, Eric. So, let me ask you a question, and I want you to think very hard about how you answer it. Because I know that you, like me, are a very strategic person. I know that you hold many things very close to the vest. And you, like me, also know when to recalibrate, when to adjust your aim, shall we say.”
Von Cyprus was completely immobilized by fear but was doing everything in his power not to show it. Had the CEO discovered that Von Cyprus had lied to him about not being a Compatible? He knew well that Tarleton had killed people for far less.
The scientist kept glancing over to his electrosleeves across the room from him. Why the hell had he decided to take the damn things off? There was no way to cross the space between him and the Guards in time. They’d crack him in the head or, worse, shoot him if he lunged for the sleeves.
Tarleton beamed one of his trademark predatory smiles at him. “If someone with, say, one hundred percent Compatibility wanted to attain all of the capabilities you are now able to give them, could you?”
And there it was.
Tarleton knew the truth. He was dead.
He covered his frantic fear the best he could. Soft, nervous laughter bounced through his voice. “Theoretically, yes. But we’ve never tried to do that. They don’t all take. And it is always dangerous. Too dangerous for one so valuable as yoursel— ”
“But it’s possible?”
“Yes, theoretically.”
“And list for me what those abilities would be aga
in?”
Von Cyprus reached with trembling hands across the work desk to find a ringed binder. “This lists all of them, sir.”
Tarleton snatched the book and began to scan down the long list of possibilities. His grin grew the further he read.
“I must remind you, sir, there is risk. And not all of them will take. They must develop, as well. I only kept this from you— ”
Tarleton spun on him so fast it made the scientist blink. “Let’s just stop right there!” the CEO shouted. Then his twisted grin returned. His eyes floated past Von Cyprus. He pointed behind him. “What is that?”
Von Cyprus turned to see he was pointing to the brand-new green-and-gold suit of battle armor. “I want that. I want it fitted for me. I want it specialized to whatever abilities do take. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
Tarleton handed the binder back to Von Cyprus. “Which ones do you want to try, sir?”
Tarleton grinned again and, turning to go, winked at the scientist. “All of them.”
NORRISTOWN, PA
“Is it that ‘Stealth-girl’ or one of Lantern’s scans?”
Girl! Rachel thought. I’m at least as old as you are, bitch!
Scarlett was still lying on the table and covered in oil, but she now became noticeably self-conscious about her nakedness.
Spectral’s eyes scanned the room as he snatched a towel off a nearby chair and draped it over Scarlett.
Rachel swallowed and, with a thought-command, turned up all of her suit’s spectrum settings to full, so that the suit would revolve through them at light speed, hopefully blocking all of Spectral’s optical scanners. The one thing she knew she couldn’t do was move. Her main weakness was motion detection, and Spectral had one of the best detectors in the world built into that bizarre-looking head of his.
Rachel let out a deep breath—and immediately regretted it as Spectral swung his head back in her direction. Eyes white, expression grim.
The Suns of Liberty (Book 3): Republic Page 8