Scarcity

by Robert Calbeck

  His laptop emitted a high-pitched whine as it worked.

  The signal cracked and fuzzed. A moment later the decryption caught up to the audio.

  “…escaped again?” an angry male voice said in a southern drawl.

  This is promising, Qwiz thought. He began recording the audio to a MPEG file.

  Another man responded who sounded decidedly European. German perhaps. “There was a transmission that indicated they jumped overboard.”

  “And it took you this long to know it had been faked?”

  “The carbon enforcement agent failed to check in for two days, we can safely assume he is dead or compromised.”

  The southern accent made an angry noise that Qwiz wasn’t able to make out.

  “Calm down. He has merely shown us that he is a formidable quarry.” The voice was cold, calculating, and dangerous. Qwiz shivered as he heard it.

  “He’s a goddamn scientist. The only thing ‘formidable’ here is the incompetence of your people. He’s killed four of them now.”

  Qwiz found himself leaning in toward the screen in anticipation. What other scientist could they be talking about but Luthor?

  “It only serves to help us. Tenrel is stuck on a seabus and now we won’t underestimate him when he arrives.”

  Qwiz couldn't believe his luck. After searching for only a week, he had found the Stalker. At least, Qwiz assumed the icy voice was the Stalker. He sounded like he was in charge.

  “I don’t see the smogging sense of letting him arrive. Like you said, he’s stuck on a boat. If we inform the crew that Tenrel is there, you’d have 12,000 people looking for him. He’d never escape.”

  “And if our special agents are repeatedly failing, you expect untrained civilians to be able to bring him in?”

  “Sure, he might kill some of them, but who cares? He’s got nowhere to hide. What’s the worst-case scenario here? The bastard kills the whole damn crew and holds the passengers hostage? Then we just arrest him wherever he’s forced to dock.”

  “You are a fool,” said Stalker.

  “It’s a good plan.”

  “There are too many variables that we can’t control. Why wouldn’t he just take a lifeboat and disappear? Even worse, he could take over the ship. What do you suppose would happen if someone took 12,000 hostages? Do you think the media might cover that?”

  “Sure, so?”

  “You heard his audio with Al’Halsimi. He wants an open mic. He intends to give the synthesis method to everyone for free. Even China. A massive hostage situation would give him that opportunity. And there is no way we could suppress that in real-time if he takes control of that ship.”

  The Texan let loose a string of curses that even Bill might have blushed at. “How the hell can we stop him from doing that?”

  “He has been laying low, so long as we do not push him, I doubt he would try something so extreme. We let him think he is safe and play his hand.”

  “So, we let him arrive safely, then strike?”

  “I am authorizing the entire New York Saber unit for your use in this operation. I want you to lead them personally.”

  “About time we allocated enough damn people.”

  Qwiz’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he stared at the screen. Sabers! Luthor, Michael and Tanya were walking—sailing—into a trap. He had to warn them. But how?

  “Do not squander this opportunity.”

  “Just watch and learn. You don’t send two amateurs, you send overwhelming force, crush him under your heel, and then piss on his corpse.”

  “By all means, teach me. Just get them in custody.” Stalker said. “What progress have you made on Tenrel’s hard-drives from the lab?”

  “We got every last stick of data Tenrel ever touched at that lab. But we are having a hell of time recovering anything. The encryption is a bitch. We still don’t even know if he stored anything there.”

  So the men who searched our lab were working for Stalker? Qwiz thought. But he’s working in the EU, those men were American. Why are they helping him?

  “I don’t like having that technology in multiple places. There are too many chances for something to happen.”

  “I won’t let it out of my sight. Got a lead on the Mole?”

  “Whoever did this hid their tracks well. There is no trace of that omega abort code. I could not have done a more complete job myself.”

  “Does that mean it’s someone inside the Sabers?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Who else has enough clearance for a complete wipe?”

  “It could be someone high up in the government. It wouldn’t be the first time the Jimenez administration has interfered, but I have no way of knowing if it’s him.”

  “If we can’t find the mole, we’ll have to satisfy ourselves by finding those two bastards he helped escape.”

  “It appears Tenrel made a phone call to one of them right before you went in. I have people analyzing the audio, but there isn’t enough data to work with. We needed one more sentence for a voice ID from the CPI database. If he so much as says ‘126’ online, we’ll find him. Call me when you have Tenrel in custody.”

  Qwiz gulped. They had been talking about him. He needed to make sure CPI didn’t get any more voice data to work with.

  The little light flickered out indicating that the connection had been terminated. Qwiz racked his brain to find a way to alert Luthor before the Stalker’s accomplice captured him. It didn’t matter if they had his voice recording. Luthor was going to need a miracle to merely survive disembarkation, let alone have a chance to publish their findings.

  But then again, how were they supposed to do that, exactly? To get anything posted on the internet required going through government censorship. Qwiz could hack into systems and networks, but anything uploaded was still routed through the censors. Qwiz had plenty of experience with screened emails, albeit in a much more extreme way. He simply couldn’t imagine how on earth they would ever accomplish their goal without someone in the government stealing it first.

  Qwiz decided not to worry about the research, saving their lives took priority. He quickly found a voice modulator program in his audio driver. After changing his voice, he looked up a phone number from the internet and dialed it from his computer.

  Chapter 13:

  New York Harbor, United States of the West

  Tanya felt she had won a decisive victory in their argument. It was one thing to battle nameless rogues surprising them in the night, it was another entirely to shoot at Americans.

  Tanya watched through a porthole as the Seabus passed through the wall of endless windmills that guarded the East Coast. The turning blades marched in unison to an unseen conductor in an endless coastal procession. The USW had been building them and installing them constantly for the last twenty years. The result was the most massive, continuous wind-farm in the world. It stretched from Boston—farther north than that and sea ice became an increasing problem—to Florida. The only breaks were shipping lanes that allowed boats in and out. Floating on top of the sea itself bobbed countless tidal generators. They harnessed the up and down motion of the waves to generate electricity. Around New York the ocean was literally blanketed with them.

  Tanya picked at her bulky uniform. It was uncomfortable and yellow. Tanya hated yellow. Somehow Vika had acquired employee uniforms for them; how exactly she procured them from the ship’s laundromat without a pass was anyone’s guess. She probably had to snap a few more necks, just in case. Tanya thought bitterly. I wish she’d just sleep around to get what she wants instead.

  With their uniforms, they left via the crew exit without notice and slipped away into the loading dock. It was easy. Tanya had not expected easy, she might have been more amenable to this course of action otherwise. The primary security was for passengers leaving or entering the ship. The dock seemed devoid of checkpoints except for the exit leading into the port proper.

  That was closed up as tight as a submarine’s hull�
�or so Vika had said. They had no intention of going through that way, they intended to access the roof and exit down the sheer walls behind the guard station. Such a feat was nearly impossible without defying gravity. Fortunately for them, that was not a problem anymore.

  Vika scrambled up the side of a pile of stacked steel containers. Deftly grabbing one BOG while throwing another higher up, she jumped and jogged all the way up the side without stopping. She acted as though she had walked up walls her whole life.

  She lay prone on the top of the rusty containers, scanning for any guards, ensuring they were safe before they began their own, albeit slower, ascent. At least slower for the boys. Tanya was certain she could have made it up almost as fast as Vika. Vika would knock on the containers repeatedly if she saw anyone coming, carp or not.

  A knocking came from up above. It didn’t stop. Tanya tried to duck behind a container.

  “You there! Stop!” Too late.

  Tanya froze. A carp held his gun out, pointed at them.

  #

  Luthor stared at the barrel of the gun, completely unable to think or move. This was exactly what Tanya had warned against. He wasn’t sure they would be able to escape the docks even with the 126 if the other guards were alerted. There were just too many carps roaming around when a seabus arrived. Michael also seemed to be frozen in place, as if his neural synapses had turned to stone.

  Tanya strode forward confidently as if she didn’t even see the gun.

  She affected the single least intelligent voice Luthor had ever heard from her. It was almost comical – if not for the gun. “Oh officer, we were just looking for you!”

  The officer looked confused, but lowered his sidearm. “You… you were?”

  “Oh yes! Thank you for finding us.”

  “Do you realize this is a restricted area?”

  “My goodness, it is? I am afraid we took a wrong turn when we were getting off the seabus. We ended up out here.” Tanya slumped her shoulders. “I thought I knew a way past the crowds, but I just got us lost!”

  The officer didn’t seem to register their uniforms. “Ma’am, you are required to enter the country through customs.”

  Tanya turned and shouted back at them. “I told you it wasn’t pronounced costumes.” Luthor actually had to fight back a smirk. Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we? This guy must be a total moron if he is buying even a second of your charade.

  Tanya turned back to the officer. “Would you please point us in the right direction?”

  “Ma’am I will have to escort you back myself.”

  “You don’t need to do that, sir. Just point us in the right direction and we won’t bother you anymore.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, miss. In a restricted area, you need a police escort or you will be arrested.” The carp softened enough to look sympathetic, like he didn’t want the poor simpletons to get into any more trouble.

  “I promise, we won’t be a problem sir.”

  “No, I insist. This is what they pay me for.” He flashed her a smile. “This way, miss. I will lead you to the short line.” He gently guided her toward the customs station in the next building with a hand on her back. Michael and Luthor followed. Vika stayed hidden on top of the container stacks. At least with her BOGs she would be able to escape. Luthor patted his own 126 for comfort. It was nice knowing they were there.

  Luthor shot a glance at Michael. Are you ready? We are about to be arrested. Michael just shrugged, but made no attempt to escape. At least Tanya had given them a fighting chance to look innocent. It would have been much worse to be caught standing horizontally instead of vertically while they climbed the containers. Luthor took a deep breath, hoping Tanya was right about the trial. If she were wrong, these could be the last free steps he ever took.

  They walked through a massive warehouse where full containers of food were being guarded by heavily armed men as they were loaded by crane onto the seabus. The empties were stacked next to them in multicolored pyramids of storage.

  The adjoining building overflowed with a mass of humanity as the ship disgorged its passengers. People clumped up in giant queues that snaked for hundreds of meters to wait to gain entrance to the United States of the West. It was very reminiscent of their exodus in Europe. Even if they were arrested, the one bright spot was that he wouldn’t have to endure the incarceration of that damn line again.

  With a carp for a guide they made their way to the rear of the building. It seemed to be a separate scanning station for VIPs. Only three people stood in front of them.

  Luthor and Tanya locked eyes silently. The moment of truth. It was clear that there was no way that they were going to be able to slip though the security sieve by anonymity or by managing to don their Seebee gloves. There was the infinitesimally small chance that the CPI databases had not yet been updated with the terrorist label tagged on each of them. But that hope felt hollow, like rolling dice, but needing 13 to win.

  Tanya went first, exposing the back of her hand to the scanner. It beeped angrily, a machine gun rattling off digital decibels instead of bullets. Luthor had never heard the bad-beep before, but it was a befitting noise to announce a criminal. Tanya made an effort to look surprised. But it didn’t matter; they all knew this was going to happen. She was handcuffed immediately.

  “I wonder if you are going to flag in the system too?” the carp said. His kindly countenance when talking with valley-girl-Tanya transformed into a sneer. He took out his gun; he didn’t exactly point it at him, but made Luthor very aware of its presence. It was a not-so-subtle order to undergo a CPI scan.

  The shrill squawking poured out of the speakers again as Luthor scanned his CPI chip. The people in the massive queue to their left stared openly; they had probably never heard the bad-beep either. Rough hands forced him into a pair of handcuffs, shoving him next to Tanya. Michael likewise failed and was cuffed. Anger fizzled under a mask of defeat on his face.

  They were pushed and prodded into a low room resembling a small post office, but with prisoners instead of parcels. They were frisked and searched thoroughly. No one noticed the small lumps of putty on the backside of Luthor’s belt.

  Still in cuffs, they were split up. Luther expected to be taken to an interrogation room with a one-way window. He suspected the next move in their playbook would be to try to catch the three of them in a lie. They would ask each of them the same questions one by one, and search for any inconsistencies. Given that this was their contingency plan, they had already agreed to tell the truth. Conveniently, the truth was they were innocent—which didn’t hurt his chances.

  The room did indeed have a one-way mirror. Luthor’s face looked back timidly in its metallic sheen. He imagined the sneering carp behind it, making jokes about Luthor’s ineptitude. Costumes? Really Tanya? Is that the best you can come up with? His feet were shackled to a solid steel chair with circular holes in the back. Sturdy bolts fastened it to the floor.

  Half an hour later the door opened. A man in an official government green and black coat limped in. He had a military air, despite the obvious prosthetic taking the place of his entire right leg. He was Mexican—or tan enough to resemble it—with graying black hair combed as if to emphasize the early stages of male pattern baldness. A prominent scar stretched from his nose to his left ear. Luthor could scarcely believe it, but it was Garcia. His old sergeant from his frostbitten years in the 501st.

  “Smog-it, but it’s good to see you Tenrel.” Garcia said. “It’s been years.” He slapped a manila envelope on the glossy table. “What are the odds that we would meet up again here? I would have a preferred a bar, maybe a double of whiskey.”

  “That’s the truth,” Luthor said, not having a clue how to act. Luthor hadn’t seen him since he went to grad school, and now they were reunited with him in chains, accused of terrorism. Fun. “You look good. How’d you end up here?”

  Garcia had aged, but so had everyone after Titan. He still appeared sharp and fit, just like the
old Garcia, and still in charge. There had been jokes that he could have ordered Anti’s ice to melt and it would have obeyed. Luthor was not looking forward to being on the receiving end of his interrogation.

  He sat down opposite Luthor. “I decided since I gave the military all my innocence, most of my sanity and a leg, they owed me a decent job. I got placed in border patrol, so here I am.

  “Unfortunately, with the seabus unloading, we won’t have time to catch up. Oh, and don’t worry,” he said glancing at the one-way mirror, “I told big brother to sit this one out.”

  Luthor put his hands on the table in what he hoped was an innocent way. “If it’s just you and me, then just tell me what it is they think I have done, and we can get down to business.”

  “You were never one to sit on your thumb and spin, were you?”

  “When you’ve been put in the situation I have, you don’t have a lot of options, so we might as well cut to the chase.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Garcia shook his head, “I never thought I would be here with one of my own men. Damn it Ten, why’d it have to be you?” His eyes glassed over, he was thinking of Titan. It was one of the reasons Luthor hadn’t kept in touch, seeing Garcia—particularly his missing leg— reminded him of the worst of it.

  Garcia looked up, his eyes lanced into Luthor’s as one accustomed to detecting lies. Luthor met his gaze; after what they’d been through together, he wouldn’t have lied to Garcia even if he had tried to blow up the IEC.

  Garcia began reading off Luthor’s charges like a grocery list. “The Coalition has placed you on the known terrorist list, believed to be in league with 2180. They say you were building a bomb intended for the IEC. They report that you murdered two carbon police who discovered your intention and then you illegally fled the country. Your apartment also inexplicably exploded killing 41 people. From the bomb residue, they say you had another bomb there that destabilized.” He folded his hands on the table with finality.