Time Heist

by Anthony Vicino

  An alarm squawked. A hologram sprang from the console beside me, showing the enemy Kestrel closing rapidly.

  "Hold on," Raines said through clenched teeth. "Gonna try—"

  The Kestrel pitched hard to the left. The centripetal force threw me hard to the right. Despite her warning, I didn't have time to brace; my skull ricocheted off the window. Something cracked. The bulletproof glass looked fine, but my brain was a bag of marbles.

  My face radiated pain from the blunt force trauma. I blinked the world in and out of existence. Blood trickled down my temple.

  Every particulate floating in the air burned as it touched torn flesh. The universe awarded me a fraction of a second's worth of self-pity before I noticed the long black cylinder zipping past my window.

  Smoke trailed the missile, tracing its path across the sky.

  Less than a hundred feet past us, it exploded in a ball of light that overloaded my sensitive optic nerve. The insides of my eyelids were sheets of white.

  The shockwave hit us a moment later, throwing us into a sidelong barrel roll. My stomach crept, inch by inch, closer to my throat. The chaos of the spin mangled any sense of orientation I'd ever possessed. The blue-gray mixture of sky and clouds mixed with the blue-gray slurry of ocean. I thought I'd figured up from down until Raines dove towards the sun.

  My stomach, the only trustworthy internal barometer, was now somewhere around my ankles. I interpreted that as moving upward. We passed through a cloud of charred ozone and smoke that penetrated the inner sanctum of the cockpit. The smell summoned memories of barbecues and the over-chlorinated sterility of bleach.

  Those were the thoughts my mind linked together in what I was confident were my final moments of life.

  When the initial shock of the explosion subsided, and I regained my equilibrium, I had the clarity of mind to take in our circumstances and appreciate our extraordinary luck.

  We climbed higher. The enemy Kestrel disappeared, but I wasn't getting any warm and fuzzy feelings of safety.

  In confirmation of fears left unspoken, alarms screamed a fresh tantrum. The other Kestrel appeared shortly after on the holographic radar.

  I searched for something encouraging to say but landed on, "Shit. Shit. Shit."

  Raines didn't notice. She strangled the flight stick, her unwavering attention fixed on the world of blue before us.

  Overhead an orange light streaked across the sky. It moved so quickly my brain barely processed the commercial airliner before it disappeared, a speck on the horizon. Then I understood why she'd taken us so high. Saw her destination.

  "The ElMag High?" I said, blurting the words with equal measures of question, statement, and admonishment.

  "It's our best chance."

  "Yeah, to die."

  "What would you prefer?"

  The Kestrel, designed for maneuverability within the tight high-walled confines of a major metropolis area was, by necessity, squat, bordering on bulky, with the equivalent aerodynamics of two bricks glued together. It'd never been intended to withstand the extreme speeds reached in the ElMag High.

  I couldn't think of a worse place to take a Kestrel.

  High-speed, long-distance travel was made possible thanks to the electromagnetic catapult created by a path of nanobots suspended at thirty thousand feet. The Electromagnetic Highway spanned Unity and the desecrated East, until it ended at the Japanese border—not that they'd let anyone near their airspace, but theoretically it was possible.

  "Anything. And this time I really mean anything," I said, trying to answer Raines' question with a modicum of objectivity. "At least with missiles there's a chance they'll miss. This flying box will break apart the moment we get on the Highway."

  "We'll have time before the wings fall off."

  "Time for what?"

  "To get back out."

  "Forgive me if my confidence is not inspired by your technical prowess on this issue."

  "Hey, you could've been hacking that guy's Kestrel instead of squawking like a child afraid of their shadow. I'm doing the heavy lifting, so as far as I'm concerned you've lost your right to a vote. Now quit being a baby, it's not like you have anything to lose."

  Raines made a justified critique—I hadn't done much in the current phase of our escape beyond holding on—but her cavalier attitude filled me with a unique brand of dread I'd yet to encounter.

  I sank into my chair, accepting that nothing would come from arguing the point. The alarms chiming in the cockpit joined in my resignation, and faded, along with the enemy Kestrel on the radar.

  No doubt he understood the limitations of his vehicle.

  Glad to see somebody had retained hold of their common sense.

  A final siren issued a feeble warning, but there was nothing an alarm, flashing lights, or a terrified ex-cop could do to change the situation. We punched a hole through the ElMag High and smashed into an invisible wall. The Highway's propulsion wave redirected our flight path instantly, firing us towards the manmade peaks of Terminus.

  A window of three seconds followed where everything appeared fine. The Kestrel accelerated quickly, but that was nothing compared to the hairpin juking Raines had inflicted on my organs moments before.

  The problem was, unlike Raines' crafty maneuvers earlier, on the Highway we continued accelerating until the walls of the Kestrel thrummed like a tuning fork. A crack splintered the windshield. Harmonic resonance threatened to tear apart the delicate bonds holding metal to glass.

  I wondered for a brief moment how shattered bulletproof glass would look.

  Raines cut the engines, but even without their assistance we continued accelerating across the ElMag High.

  "Get us out of here." My tone was less encouraging than I'd intended.

  "Too much inertia. The engines are too weak to push us out," Raines said.

  "This is a perfect I told you so moment."

  "Do it and I will eject you."

  I kept all further comments to myself. The crack across the windshield sprang new branches. Air heaved against what remained of the frail glass. It probed for a weakness to exploit, threatening to sweep into the cockpit and snuff us out.

  Asphyxiation on account of too much air felt too paradoxical a way to die. Though, in the end, I suppose breathing eventually does us all in.

  Terminus shimmered in the distance, an oasis of safety. But with hundreds of miles separating us from the deceleration point, I wasn't getting my hopes up. I would've crossed my fingers for luck, but they'd become one with the armrest.

  Then came the lurch. A giant's hand plucked our vehicle from the sky and used us to season his dinner.

  The world tumbled, shifted, shattered, and twisted until it was nothing I recognized. My stomach played musical chairs with my heart on the dance floor of my throat. The Kestrel shuddered like a dog throwing off rainwater. I caught a glimpse of something tearing free from the side of the vehicle and zipping past my window, flipping end over end.

  "Was that a wing?" I said, my voice an octave higher than normal. "I thought you said we wouldn't lose them."

  "No, I said we'd have time before we lost them."

  "That wasn't much time at all."

  If Raines responded it was lost to the wail of alarms that'd regained their breath. She flipped a switch that appeared to have no effect on our current situation until a half second later when the vehicle spun left and bounced free of the Highway.

  One wing wasn't enough to maintain any kind of control, but Raines tried anyhow. We spiraled towards the ocean floor thousands of feet below.

  With nothing to do but wait for Mother Nature's unforgiving embrace, I closed my eyes and listened.

  Realizing the futility of their cries, or perhaps having run out of power, the alarms ceased their cycling. Silence fell over the cockpit, save the sound of wind rushing over jagged edges of the no longer aerodynamic Kestrel.

  Seconds ticked over slowly. The air whistling past reminded me of the tide sliding along a pebbl
e-strewn beach, on a day spent in the sun. Diana was beside me, stretched out on her towel, ivory skin exposed to the heat, glistening with the ocean breeze settling in salty droplets along her arms and shoulders.

  She buried her nose in the crook of my neck, warm breath causing the hairs riding the ridge of my spine to prickle.

  "What should we name her?" Diana asked with her eyes closed.

  I traced my finger along the curve of her stomach that had only just begun to soften in the weeks prior. The sun made a rare appearance, penetrating the heavy armor of clouds. Its rays danced on the white-capped waves washing into shore. I searched the horizon for an answer, acutely aware that this would be the first of many life-altering decisions I'd be forced to make on behalf of another soul.

  The burden of that responsibility couldn't be underestimated.

  "It's not too early for that?"

  "She's already here," Diana said, her voice drifting softly on the breeze. "I feel her."

  "You mean your nanocomp can feel her."

  "No, I mean I can feel her. In a place the nanites could never touch.

  "Hm..."

  "You're jealous."

  "Maybe."

  "And scared."

  "Maybe that, too."

  "Well, I never..." Diana laid her head on my lap. "And here I thought nothing scared the great Tom Mandel, the man who laughs in the face of death."

  "Babies are scarier than death," I said, running my fingers through Diana's hair.

  Despite the odds, we'd won the birthright lottery. We'd tried for years so perhaps it was inevitable, but after so many failed attempts I'd begun to wonder if getting selected might be the hardest part of events still to come. Now I sat on the warm sand, letting the sun roast me while trying to tame the butterflies in my stomach.

  Diana was unfazed. She'd mentally prepared herself better than I had.

  I settled myself by allowing my mind to wander. To think of the man or woman whose death was our opportunity at a family. Unity only had room for so many people. One in, one out. Those were the rules. We were doing our part to bring one in.

  It was the stupidest thing I'd ever done.

  But also the best.

  "It won't be so bad," she said. "You'll see."

  The tide rolled in, creeping ever closer. The sound grew stronger, angrier.

  Something jarred my world, dragging me out of the memory and back to the chaos of the cockpit.

  Raines yelled, "Stay and die if you want." She pointed with an outstretched hand, straining against the force of the spin pinning us to our seats.

  I followed the path of her finger and saw the red handle overhead. The muscles in my forehead twitched, causing the gash on the side of my face to squeal with renewed vigor as I threaded fingers through the handle and yanked down.

  The roof above me popped off. The wind slapping at my hair and clothing sounded nothing like the waves now.

  It was the mourning cry of a prehistoric beast set on destruction.

  A rocket shot the chair, and me by extension, up and out of the cockpit. After a five-second burst the rockets died. My upward rise through the clouds slowed as gravity got its hands on me once again.

  I hovered at the apex and listened to the breeze slip past. Something detached from the seat. I fell a dozen feet before the parachute unfurled and caught. I clutched at the seatbelt strapped to my chest, thankful in a way I couldn't express with words that I'd actually buckled in.

  An explosion of smart-metal bloomed where the Kestrel crashed into the rigid waves. Flames from the wreckage lapped at my dangling feet.

  The burning debris became a point of reference for distance. I realized then just how fast I was dropping.

  We must have ejected too late.

  The parachute dragged against the hot, moist air, but it wasn't going to be a soft landing.

  I plummeted through black smoke billowing off the wreckage. Noxious fumes from burning metal assaulted my nostrils and singed my lungs.

  I closed my eyes, denying my body the opportunity to brace for impact, and drew on the memory of Diana on the beach.

  "Let's name her Mirama," I whispered.

  "What's that mean?"

  "Where the river touches the sky."

  "Mirama," Diana said, tasting the word on her tongue.

  She smiled at me.

  I smiled back.

  And then I hit.

  Somebody dimmed the power to my brain, as if I'd missed a couple monthly payments. I remained conscious, but had no control over any of the voluntary acts associated with living.

  My brain tried to reboot, but in the meantime my body operated on autopilot.

  Turns out, the body, when left to its own devices, does stupid things. My spasming lungs decided that right then was the ideal moment to take a breath. For their efforts, I received a mouthful of tangy salt water that burned everything on its journey through esophagus and windpipe before pooling in my lungs.

  This new source of pain climbed atop the pile of others threatening to overwhelm my diluted senses. The nanocomp did what it could to mitigate the damage, but there was a lot of damage.

  I clawed at the seatbelt holding me to the death sentence my sinking chair had become, with fingers struggling to interpret panic-riddled commands issued by my brain.

  A riptide swirled, dragging me deeper into the ocean's depths.

  I fumbled with the clasp. Something caught. The belt released its grip. The dull glow of firelight burned on the surface. An impossible distance considering I'd only been submerged a moment.

  With arms and legs turned to lead weights, I thrashed towards the smoldering wreckage.

  My eyeballs bulged with the shifting pressure. Salt water sat in my lungs like acid.

  The ring of fire dancing on the surface became the light at the end of the tunnel. I'd get to that light quicker if I stopped fighting, took another breath.

  So close. Muscles screamed. Heart ached.

  I coughed.

  Bubbles bled from my mouth and nose.

  A silent euphoria cozied up to my brain. The darkness from the depths below tugged at me. I sank, unable to resist the pull.

  With the knowledge that I wouldn't make it, I closed my eyes and drifted.

  My brain powered down.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The First Time Is The Hardest

  Something turned on. A switch lying dormant flipped and I opened my eyes to the blinding yellow sphere of the sun staring down at me.

  Death is a dark place. A stark contrast to the bluish-yellow smear I now struggled to process. The light induced an orgasm of nausea.

  I closed my eyes and tried again.

  The world came into focus, but still I struggled to make sense of my situation.

  My life-support nanites decided that was as good a time as any to purge my stomach, lungs, and whatever else of all fluids, solids, and organs no longer vital to survival. The contents of my body erupted from my mouth like a ruptured hose. Seawater, burning worse on the way up than it had on the way down, departed with explosive force.

  The pain became my master.

  I flopped onto my stomach, a marionette dancing to an unheard rhythm. I writhed, grabbing handfuls of sand to brace against the next wave of vomit.

  Seconds turned over into minutes, which evolved into years.

  Slowly the pounding drum behind my eyeballs subsided. Clarity returned. I wiped away the bile that coated my lips with the palm of a sand-encrusted hand.

  An error message from my nanocomp flashed in the corner of my eye.

  Fatal Error: Mandatory Reboot

  Stand by...

  I'd never seen that one before, but I knew enough about the nanocomp to understand what had happened.

  I'd died.

  My nanocomp must not have liked that and decided to reboot. A desperation-fueled act considering a brain linked with a nanocomp can’t function without said nanocomp. The moment the nanocomp rebooted, not only was I dead, I was bra
in dead. That's double dead.

  The thunder rolling around my skull paid homage to that fact.

  I surveyed the beach upon which I sat. Clumps of tangled seaweed stained the sand an unfortunate shade of brown. Driftwood washed ashore alongside metallic debris from the crash. The burning wreckage of the Kestrel smoldered less than a half mile off shore.

  The daze clouding my mind lifted and my thoughts snapped back to Raines.

  I jumped to my feet and screamed her name over the tide crashing into shore. I waited for a response. Nothing came. Nothing loud enough to hear over the pounding of my heart at least.

  A new kind of panic gripped me. It had nothing to do with self-preservation of the body and everything to do with self-preservation of the heart.

  The world couldn't take Raines from me. Not now. The world wasn't fair, but it couldn't be that cruel.

  I jogged along the water's edge, scanning the horizon with all the power my nanotized mind could throw at my optic implants.

  Nothing.

  My heart tripped, stuttered, and stumbled. Breaths came in fast, shallow spurts.

  I was panicking. Knowing that, however, did nothing to help the situation.

  "Raines," I yelled again.

  This was all wrong. I could find her, but I had to calm down and focus. I clenched and released my fists three times and forced a long, slow breath. The tension ebbed enough for me to slip into the Stream.

  In the wake of the Warden's death, Raines and I would be high-value targets on the Peacekeepers' Most Wanted list, which made going into the Stream a dangerous move. They'd track my location, but without Raines none of that mattered.

  I pinged her GPS, locked on, and connected with her nanocomp. The systems linked and exchanged a flood of information.

  She wasn't far, but that didn't necessarily make her close either.

  Sprinting in the direction indicated by the nanites, I stopped where a line of Kestrel parts rimmed the beach. I scanned the bobbing pieces of debris still surfing the waves, looking for the one shaped like a human.