“There.” Lantern peered up at the screen, and his mouth fell open under his visor.
They all leaned forward, trying to study the odd-looking mess before them. Thousands of crisscrossing digital lines tangled together across the room.
Lantern gasped. “Dios mío!”
“What is it?” Revolution asked.
“I’m thinking modern art?” Ward ventured.
Lantern pointed into the intricate digital patterns. “These signals, intersecting lines of control, all converging toward a center, then fanning out...” Lantern shifted a setting on the floating 3D scan, and colors burst across the room, creating a multi-colored mass of communication lines that at once resembled both the universe and the neural pathways of a human brain.
Ward blanched. “Yeah, I was right.”
Lantern sucked in a breath, sudden and quick. “They can mean only one thing, sir. Von Cyprus is creating some kind of super intelligence to control the drones. A hive mind.”
Spectral strode forward to the scan, and his red robotic eyes glowed white. His face actually seemed to lengthen in wonder at what he was observing.
“That would be an unparalleled upgrade of their control capacity. And it would cost Tarleton a fortune. He must be dipping into the Council’s discretionary funds.” Leslie sounded pleased by this.
Revolution waved his hand through the scan, amazed at its intricacy. “Their main weakness has always been with control.”
Ward was following him. “That’s right. The Man-O-War’s controller was bombed by Rachel, and the Krill had Michael Crustac inside it, resisting the whole time.”
“And we took out the Delaware, which was the main control hub for all their drones.” Sophia smiled at the memory.
Lantern sighed. “I think they’ve built three more.”
“Delawares?” Ward swallowed.
“Control hubs,” Lantern clarified.
From the hologram, Leslie appeared concerned. “Suns, I think our first priority ought to be stopping the Purge. Tarleton’s already begun to attack Minutemen positions, and I’m afraid COR is getting impatient for a response.”
“We gave the Council fits when we took down their communication hubs. This could be even more effective,” Scarlett argued.
“COR has a point.” Revolution motioned up at the screen showing the Guard mobilization. “The stakes have changed. They are going after the most vulnerable members of the Resistance. We are their only line of defense.”
“Exactly, take it to the bastards,” Sophia growled.
Revolution paced back toward the screens with the Guard mobilization patterns. “But we have to be smart about it. One thing I can promise you: Eric Von Cyprus has not been sitting on his hands all this time. That black energy weapon we saw at Trenton will just be the start. We cannot risk fighting them one on one. We need to be strategic and surgical,” Revolution said.
Ward held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I’m retired.”
Rimshot, please.
CHAPTER 22
Revolution walked Scarlett and Spectral back to their room down the long, sanitized corridors of the facility’s many hallways. Most of the building gave off a very strong hospital vibe that Revolution could never shake.
Everyone was getting cabin fever, including himself. Being trapped in a metal can every day of your life was one thing, but being at the Boston HQ would have made it a little more palpable. Here there was nothing like the number of toys Boston had. And the communication blackout was wearing on him as well. It was wearing on everyone.
An all-out mobilization of Council troops was worrisome, but it also brought a small dose of relief. An excuse to get the hell out of there. But if that was going to be their plan of action, they would need all the power on their side they could get. Time to make the hard sell to Scarlett and her android.
“We need your help,” he told them. “John Bailey and James Scott both clearly trusted the two of you. Protected you. The way I see it, you owe them. And that means you owe us.”
Scarlett blushed as they walked.
Maybe she’d hoped to avoid this, but she had to have known the risk when she decided to ask for asylum. She nodded as if she knew it was time to put her cards on the table. “I loved John and James, but I didn’t always agree with them. They trusted you to win the war. Maybe you will. But what happens when the fighting stops? What guarantee do we have that you’ll just hand back your power?”
Revolution thought back to the earlier discussion he’d had with her. “I believe in democracy, Ms. Rage. It’s the reason I’ve done all of this.”
“It was a democracy that voted in the Freedom Council in the first place. Now you’re trying to remove it, not through the ballot box, but by force. Doesn’t sound like there’s much democracy on either side.”
Revolution shook his head. “Democracy isn’t perfect. Not every decision made democratically will be democratic in its content.”
“That’s my point. You’re fighting for a system that is already broken.”
“Then help us fix it.”
“My days as a government stooge are over. We joined the hero movement. It’s neutral,” Scarlett countered.
They stopped at the duo’s door. “The world thinks you did that for the PR. This is your chance to show them they’re wrong,” Revolution said.
“Isn’t that why you kept the true nature of your quote-unquote suit a secret? If the world knew what you really are, would they trust you as much?”
How could this woman know so much about that? “I don’t think—”
Scarlett waved her point away. “In the end, you all want the same thing as the Council: to put people in prisons.”
“We want to free them!” a voice shouted down the hallway. They all turned to see Drayger approaching. His new leg seemed to be working well. His gate was not quick, but it wasn’t slow either. The limp was gone save for times when Drayger had been sitting for a long period.
Revolution nodded at him. “Let’s take this conversation inside, shall we?”
Spectral closed the door behind them. Scarlett offered them all a seat.
No one sat.
Scarlett leaned against the back of the sectional sofa with Spectral right beside her. Revolution and Drayger remained just inside the door. Like many small apartments, the entryway and living area were really all one room.
“Scarlett, we’re trying to save the country. We don’t want to imprison anyone,” Revolution said.
“Actually, I got a list...” Drayger smirked.
“Countries are prisons,” she countered. “Borders and boundaries. Insiders, outsiders. I know all too well.” Scarlett glared at Revolution. “Like I said, if you really wanted to help people you’d be in Africa. But you can’t go there because the government you’re fighting for started that war. A democracy voted on it. Take the Council away and that war remains. A war on the poorest people on the planet.”
“So, why aren’t you there?” Drayger challenged.
“We had a travel ban placed on both of us.”
Drayger snickered. “Like that could really stop Casper, the Ghost of Christmas Past, over there.”
Spectral cocked his head inquisitively at the comment.
Revolution waved him off. “Scarlett, I agree with you that we should be helping in other countries, but we have to clean up our own house first.”
“That’s real convenient, coming from the guy whose house is never going to be clean. Its walls are built with dirt.”
The android leaned forward, pr
ojecting an aura of calm, as if to explain Scarlett’s ranting.
“Right now you are helping zero percent of it. Help us stop the Council and then you can go anywhere you want,” Revolution said.
Drayger looked as if he was about to pop. “Besides, we do fight for the destitute! Hell, we are the destitute! You don’t see anybody raking in the dough around here, do ya?” he said. “And you could take care of this problem with a thought. Kill Tarleton, kill the whole damn Council!”
“Ben...” Revolution tried to calm him.
“I mean, what’s the problem?” Drayger pointed at Scarlett’s blue, metallic headpiece. “You treat that tiara thing of yours like it’s a curse or something. You could use that thing to end this whole damn war! You’re such hypocrites!”
“Ben!” Revolution said more forcefully, but the young man wasn’t listening. The android’s eyes had become laser-like pinpoints, staring at Drayger. A sign Revolution had come to recognize as a precursor to an optic blast.
“I mean, hey, I get it, you’ve got daddy issues. We’ve all got problems. So what? You could waltz in there, the two of ya, and kill ‘em all with a thought. Or you,” he said, pointing to Spectral. “Just walk up to Tarleton, stick your hand in his chest, and rip his heart out. What could anyone do about it? They can’t even touch you! You’ve got a million ways to kill them!”
The frustration was palpable in Drayger’s voice.
Scarlett’s head spun toward Drayger. She glared at him, her eyes fiery diamonds. She placed a calming hand on the android’s bicep, but her voice was anything but calm. “You have no idea what it’s like,” she snapped. “Yes, I’ve killed for my father, and I’ve killed for this country.” Scarlett shook her head. “Oh, I know all about killing. The thing about being a Compatible, the thing they never tell you, is that the implant”—she ran her hand through her auburn locks and down her slender neck—“grows to be part of your cerebral cortex. They become one. So, in my case, part of me thinks about killing twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred sixty-five days a year. It yearns for it, cries out for it.”
She leaned toward Drayger, her eyes tight slits, and he felt himself involuntarily take two steps back. The door was right behind him. Nowhere to go or run.
“It doesn’t eat and it doesn’t sleep,” she continued, her voice low and dangerous, eyes scorching. Focused like a cat about to strike. “But it does dream. About one thing only.” Scarlett brushed her hand against the electric-blue headpiece that draped her forehead. “This little tiara, as you called it, Mr. Drayger, helps keep those dreams from becoming real.”
Drayger was stunned by the venom that had entered her voice. His eyes were wide as saucers. “I...um...”
Suddenly, a crackle sounded in Revolution’s Com. He recognized the voice immediately, and he waved them off, turning away to listen. “General, we’re getting some strange readings in your vicinity. Have you checked your status lately?” Leslie asked.
No sooner had she said that then Lantern’s voice broke through the Com. “Sir, they’ve found us.”
CHAPTER 23
The general alarm blared across the facility. Revolution, Drayger, Spectral, and Scarlett came bounding back into the Sit Room. The rest of the team had gathered there already.
“Oh, fuck me!” they heard Rachel exclaim. She pointed her RDSD at Lantern’s scan and projected what was on her screen onto the hologram at the center of the room.
“Where is that?” Drayger blinked, sprinting up beside her.
It was a massive squadron of armed vehicles. A warning clanged on the screen, indicating that weapons were hot.
Lantern read the coordinates. “California.”
Rachel took a deep breath. She didn’t need the coordinates; she recognized it. “Just outside L.A.”
“Can you plot their course?” Revolution asked Lantern. He nodded.
“They’re headed into the city,” Lantern said as he worked inside his helmet.
Spectral began.
“Los Angeles HQ,” Lantern said.
“It’s an attack!” Rachel said.
On screen, they watched from satellite feed as the pterodactyl drones swooped down and opened fire on the facility with the red lasers from their eyes.
In the midst of the battle a larger, humanoid robot they did not recognize floated above the building and began to fire what Lantern confirmed was “black energy.” The same stuff Von Cyprus had used at Trenton.
“What in God’s name is that thing?” Drayger exclaimed.
“Looks like Von Cyprus hasn’t exactly been sitting on his hands,” Ward said to Revolution.
As they looked on, Spectral seemed restless. He yanked his cloak around him then whipped it back a few seconds later. A permanent scowl seemed to hang on the machine’s face.
Finally, he spoke.
Scarlett grabbed Spectral’s arm, and the android’s eyes blinked white. His tone changed from emphatic to icy as he finished the sentence. <...cannot characterize the content of the energy emanating from the machine.>
Revolution eyed the couple carefully. What was that all about? What kind of silent communication were they engaging in? Was it a threat? The “white eyes” was a data processing thing, that Rev knew. But what data was the android processing, and why?
On screen, the black energy ripped into the roof, incinerating anything it touched. The Suns realized they could do nothing but watch.
Revolution remembered all too well what that energy was like. Just being near it had turned his stomach. Like it did not belong on the Earth. Von Cyprus had claimed it was a combination of dark energy and antimatter. If so, even Fiona would not be immune to its effects. Indeed, the events at the Hall of Chambers had proven that. The black shards that exploded out of the Krill had hurt her. If this machine used the black energy as its main weapon, what hope had any of them in stopping it?
That was easy.
None.
SOUTH BOSTON, MA
Pedestrians strolled down once proud streets, now pockmarked by slashed budgets and the daily wear and tear of a city that was never repaired. The buildings were old and cracked. Like much of the country, their best days seemed to be behind them.
Above the avenue, a Media Corp billboard loomed, transmitting advertising images, news reports, and the occasional infomercial out to Boston’s denizens. The street may have been broken and torn, but the billboards appeared brand new, shiny, and gleaming. Some of them were mere holograms. The Council, on Media Corp’s behalf, had never spared any expense in distributing them across the country. Even into the heart of the Resistance.
One thing that rarely appeared on the digital screens was a direct address of the public from the Chairman of the Freedom Council himself. When it did occur, people tended to stop what they were doing and listen. The chairman, after all, was the most powerful man in America. If he wanted something, he got it. So any announcement made by him was seen as a promise—or a warning—of things to come.
But as Bannister Tarleton’s face loomed above them, the folks on the street took extra notice as it was the first time the new Chairman of the Freedom Council had addressed them in this manner. And he was the first chairman who was not also the CEO of Media Corp. How would this new chairman, the head honcho of the nation’s premiere weapons contractor, govern?
Here, in the heart of the Resistance movement, those fears were even more pronounced.
They would not have to wonder for long.
“Good day, my fellow Americans,” Tarleton started, the words echoing across the streets. “As you know, our country has been besieged by a series of crises. Crises instigated by members of an illegal insurgency perpetrated by those who do not wish to see our great country continue on its path toward recovery and prosperity. They would rather see us spiral back into c
haos. It is time for these illegal acts to end.”
At Freedom Rise, Von Cyprus fidgeted in the corner as the chairman made his pitch. This was the small, private broadcast room built just for the Chairmen of the Freedom Council. A TV set occupied the space, empty of all other accoutrements. Far from fancy.
Tarleton’s eyes were beaming. Von Cyprus had already seen the text of the announcement, and he knew it was nothing more than a threat of what was coming.
Soon.
Most people would be nervous to deliver such a speech. But Tarleton was clearly relishing it. He sat at an ornate desk with the bright blue Freedom Flag draped behind him. His handsome, angular face gleamed at the camera like a lion stalking its prey.
“Today I am announcing a major law enforcement initiative, the likes of which our country has never seen,” Tarleton said. “Its goal is simple. We are going to shut down this insurgency once and for all. It is a clear and present danger to the security of the United States, and I will not tolerate its existence one day longer.
“Within twenty-four hours, if members of the terrorist militia calling itself the Minutemen do not turn themselves in, they will be subject to arrest. We have obtained a list of every Minuteman hideaway in the country. If you are listening to my voice and you are in one of these facilities, you must turn yourself into your local authorities now. Do not wait. If you do, I cannot guarantee your safety.
“I have instructed the Council Guard to take the lead on these arrests, in cooperation with local law enforcement. If you have not committed a crime, you will not be charged. If you have, you will be dealt with more leniently if you turn yourself in than if we have to take you by force.”
Tarleton leaned into the camera, and his brow furrowed, his eyes burning with intensity. Von Cyprus had been on the receiving end of that look enough times that he felt his blood pressure rise just seeing it. “But make no mistake,” Tarleton’s voice was low, steady, “we will take you. One way or another. The choice is yours.” Tarleton set his jaw, steeled his eyes, and glared directly into the camera with a force that could make you forget that he’d been staring into the camera the whole time.
The Suns of Liberty (Book 3): Republic Page 16