Mental note: don’t build bombs. “You can’t honestly believe that I was trying to blow up the IEC.”
Garcia raised his brows, it was his job to determine the truth of immigrants and criminals entering the country. “Convince me.”
“This is bullshit and you know it, Garcia. You know me! This is not me!” Luthor stopped shouting with effort. If Anti-Luthor got out it would not help his cause. He had to remain in control. “Do you really believe I would support 2180? I’m a smogging scientist for God’s sake! You think I want to destroy the world with carbon?”
“You wouldn’t be the first pissed off soldier to find solace in banned energy. The group was founded by ex-soldiers, you know. They thought if we would have just used our coal, we wouldn’t have needed to fight the war in the first place.”
Luthor looked at his hands. Everyone saw 2180 followers as stone-age, blind radicals who didn’t care if the world burned around them so long as those fires warmed their houses. And in truth, that’s probably what they were—ex-soldiers or not. Coal was the bane of the carbon-free world, and its supporters were rightly considered to be equivalent with Satan himself. Now Luthor had been attached to those same devils that hated everything the IEC stood for. They believed the world already had all the energy it needed until the year 2180 solely in coal and natural gas. They preached its affordability to mine and ease to convert to electricity, they denied anthropogenic global warming, and were probably the craziest, least educated smoggers in the hemisphere. And now thanks to propaganda and lies, Luthor had unwittingly become their herald.
“Please,” Luthor said, “you have to see past this crap.”
“Luthor, I want to help you. But this has the potential to be a major international incident.” He stared more intently at Luthor. “Enough incidents can lead to war.”
“You would throw me under the bus just so the world governments can roll on without any bumps in the road?”
“I am not going to abandon you here. I’m just suggesting if we don’t go through the proper channels this could threaten peace. You know how tenuous our relations with the EU are lately. I will not be a party to anything that leads to another war. Even if that means abandoning one of my men. Even you.”
“Right,” Luthor said bitterly, “what was that line you always told us? Don’t be a hero? Looks like you’ve got that part down.”
Garcia looked hurt. “You would really say that after Titan?”
“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Damn right I didn’t. I want to help, but you are going to need give me something bombproof.”
There was a long silence. Garcia appeared to take this job every bit as seriously as he took the military. He would never compromise. Right now Luthor sat chained to the floor, stuck between two very powerful governments, and Garcia had no intention of saving him before he was smashed between them.
Luthor had hoped that Garcia would just believe him out of loyalty. Luthor sighed. He reached into his belt and grabbed one of his three BOGs. He slapped the little orange lump of putty-like polymer on the table. The only indication that it had the potential to radically change the world was the small bump in the middle which held the plastic beads encasing element 126.
“What the hell is that?” Garcia snapped. Luthor realized that it had a striking resemblance to the plastic explosives they had been trained with for the campaign in Antarctica. Yet more “proof” that he had been building a bomb.
“This,” Luthor said, “is the reason why the EU wants me at any cost.”
#
Luthor was relieved that his former CO still trusted him enough to listen to his story. He folded his hands on the table, not interrupting once until he had finished. At the end he remained quiet for another few minutes, considering.
“Ten, I know you’re an accomplished scientist now, but gravity?” His expression was the epitome of incredulity.
“Can’t you feel it?” Luthor said.
“Feel what?
Mental note: not everyone is as accustomed to the small gravity changes I am.
Luthor grabbed another BOG from his belt. He mashed them together and Luthor felt the gravity clench. He tossed them casually to Garcia. Luthor’s innards lurched as the gravity dimple moved across the table. His shackles kept him from being yanked toward the BOG’s but Garcia slid toward the table. As he caught it, his eyes grew wider. With the power physically moving his body, Garcia had definitely noticed the feeling. He held the 126 in his hands as one might hold a stick of enriched Uranium.
“This is going to be the single strangest thing that has ever happened to you, but throw it at the ceiling. It will stick.”
Garcia, who Luthor had always known to be fearless, now hesitated. The gravity distortion had clearly unnerved him. Finally, with a swift, decisive motion he stuck the 126 to the ceiling. He began floating up, out of his chair which was bolted to the ground.
“Holy shit!” he yelled, drifting up toward the ceiling. Rotating in the air while flailing his arms wildly, he cried out.
After an awkward bump—which helped Luthor feel slightly less pathetic for his own disastrous first attempt—Garcia managed to kneel upside down on the ceiling, his eyelids peeling back into his skull. Then he started laughing.
“Thank God we don’t pay to run the cameras in this place anymore.”
Luthor laughed, it was a good sign to have him veering from the topic of Luthor’s incarceration. “Walk away from it when you want to come down.” Luthor said.
Knowing what to expect this time, Garcia floated down without swearing. Carefully standing on the chair and bracing himself against the ceiling, he retrieved the bizarre little ball, placing it back on the table. Luthor immediately separated the two BOGs and felt a marked dissipation of altered gravity.
“You really can control gravity.”
“With this powering my generator, I can create limitless, carbon-free energy. Can’t you see how Europe might be willing to lie, murder, and steal to get their hands on my research? This element, if mass produced, could completely revolutionize the world, or if someone gains a monopoly, could be used to control it. I, for one, want to keep it out of the wrong hands.”
“Ten, right now all I have is your word that you’re innocent and this smogging ridiculous gravity trick. For me, that’s good enough—I’m sorry I ever doubted you. But if you want me to have your back, I am going to need more evidence.”
Luthor held up one of the BOGs, “how is this not enough?”
“It certainly provides you with credibility, but just because you have something that can control gravity doesn’t necessarily mean people will believe you weren’t intending it for the purposes of terrorism.”
Luthor swore. “They murdered my friend and threatened to do the same to us! It was self-defense damn it! What did you want me to do?”
“Calm down. Look, I am on your side here and that is a big start. I am going to make sure this gets to trial and that it gets publicity.”
“What if they try us as terrorists? That would mean a closed military tribunal. No publicity at all.”
“Trust me, it will be a civilian trial.”
“What about extradition? How are you going to stop them from shipping me back to Europe? That’s where the goddamn Sabers tried to kill me. What can you do to stop forces that powerful?”
“Shut up, Tenrel. Please. This is what I do now. When have you ever known me not to do what I said I would do?”
Luthor didn’t respond. The man held to his word like the strong nuclear force. “It isn’t going to take too many people floating up to the ceiling, before people start believing you. You’re going to be okay.”
The door cracked open and a man in a faded leather jacket popped his head in, motioning for Garcia. Garcia stood and walked out, leaving Luthor alone with his thoughts and the blasted one-way mirror.
Luthor crossed his arms, trying his best not to look guilty. His left leg was cramping. He strain
ed against the ankle cuffs, wishing he could relieve the tension. A fair trial in the States wasn’t ideal, but it polluted a lot less than a lifetime of incarceration in Europe. And with Garcia on his side, he might actually have a chance of winning.
Garcia walked back in, “I just spoke with someone using a voice modulator calling himself the Vanguard. Do you have any idea who that is?”
Relief flowed over him in a cresting wave. Qwiz was alive. He had escaped and was aware enough to figure out that they were trying to get home. It was almost too good to be true. It was the first good news he had heard since that fateful morning that had transformed them into fugitives. The emotion got the better of him and Luthor laughed despite himself. “Yes! He is a coworker,” said Luthor.
“Well he just told me that there was a terrorist getting off a seabus from France today. Said his name was Luthor Tenrel.”
“What?” This doesn’t make any sense, why would Qwiz call to tell them something like that? Is he trying to get us arrested? I guess he didn’t understand my message after all.
“He said he believed that man—you—to be extremely dangerous. He said that if we get him into custody we should hold him in the highest possible security until ‘justice is done.’ What is he talking about?”
“I don’t have a clue.” Luthor said. “He must have read the stories about me and believed them.”
“He was adamant that I have ‘lots of extra men guarding you at all times’ because you were so dangerous.”
Luthor shrugged. It didn’t add up. Qwiz called himself the Vanguard, so no one would be able to find his identity—except Luthor. Not the action of a person trying to turn someone in. Not at all. If Qwiz really believed they were all dangerous terrorists then he would have wanted to give his real name to distance himself as far as possible from Luthor. Could it be Qwiz was trying to send him a message? If so, he was doing it in the least helpful way possible.
Garcia shrugged too. “I guess that is to be expected, if the media has been spun as much as you say. Regardless, I am still going to send two extra vehicles to escort you to the station. My ass is grass if the higher-ups find out I didn’t listen to a tip like this and something happens on the way. We will talk more later tonight when I meet you there.”
He left the room, leaving the door open behind him, a good sign. Luthor sat alone with thoughts spinning in his mind. He just couldn’t figure out what Qwiz’s call had been about. Why use the Vanguard? That was the most confusing part. He could have used a complete pseudonym to remain anonymous if he thought they were guilty. But the Vanguard meant he was trying to communicate with Luthor personally. Maybe that is all. Luthor wondered. He just needed an excuse to call immigration so made up that bit about me being extremely dangerous. If they already think I am a terrorist, a phone call isn’t going to change much is it? Luthor unclenched, forcing himself not to dwell on the other possibilities.
#
Tanya wished she could put her face in her hands so she could weep, this was all her fault. If only she had listened to Vika and not been so quick to give themselves up. It had made so much more sense in her mind, it wasn’t supposed to have happened like this. They were supposed to realize this was all just a big misunderstanding. Do we really look like terrorists?
The carps threw their belongings, including Luthor’s laptop with all his research, into the trunk of the lead car. Luthor stared at it as the trunk was closed, he wouldn’t like having it in someone else’s control—even if it was still broken. A hand on the top of Tanya’s head shoved her into the back of the small car. Michael grunted as he was jammed into the seat next to her. They crammed Luthor in last. The vehicle had never been designed to accommodate this many prisoners, of that she was certain.
The door shut with an ominous thump. Luthor leaned over and smiled at her. Smiled, at a time like this. “Everything is going to be okay,” he said. Something about the way he said combined with his familiar voice, really did make it better. She knew it was irrational, but didn’t much care at the moment. It was Luthor’s job to be rational as a scientist anyway.
“What’s going on?” Michael said.
“I met my old CO, Garcia. He was in charge in there. He believes us.”
“That’s fantastic!” Tanya replied. “Is he going to help?”
“How does a public civilian trial sound? He said he’s going to take care of everything.”
“How’d you convince him?” Michael said. “Mine outright laughed in my face!”
“It is hard not to believe someone when they can stick you to the ceiling,” Luthor said.
“Wait, you showed him 126?” Michael said. “Ah, come on man!”
“Look, it’s going to be just fine. He let me keep the 126 and we aren’t going to get extradited.”
“That’s fantastic news,” Tanya said, her head now spinning with possibilities. They had clawed their way out of Europe with the goal of being able to release Luthor’s research to the world. What better place to do that than a high-profile court case? She had been suggesting all along that they turn themselves in so that this might actually happen. Not only that, but they were going to be able to do it all without fulfilling the morbid predictions of more killing from Vika.
They glided down a claustrophobic street, presumably toward the nearest police station.
Two carp cars sandwiched them in front and behind as an escort.
Buildings rose up to stratospheric heights all around, several of them still under construction. New York had grown exponentially since the Oil Crash. All major cities with effective mass transit had burgeoned, and pretty much any other place where a gas-burning car wasn’t required to get around. Once gas became prohibitively expensive, the only choice for most people in the Suburbs was to sell everything they had and move someplace where they didn’t need a car.
It was still hard to believe how poorly many cities had been designed in those days. Suburban sprawl was such an inefficient and expensive design. The majority of the population of America had lived in places so spread out that it was impossible to get anywhere without a car. No wonder the world ran out of crude so quickly. Tanya thought. People had used gasoline just to pick up groceries. So unnecessary. Why hadn’t the world been able to see where they were headed? Now all but a few suburban cities were veritable ghost towns, inhabited only by scavengers, criminals, and Markless. Even the carps had given up patrolling their naked, burned-out, and picked-over streets. Once they left, even those with electric cars followed suit and fled for the cities. The only regular travel to the sprawl was by the wildly successful—and well-armed— scavenger companies. They picked over the abandoned suburbs and sold the scrap and useful items back to the big cities.
The surroundings darkened as they passed under a massive solar farm. Increasingly, they were being built over the roadways, the only place in the city left to build. Not much more than a concrete overpass completely covering the road, the solar farms often stretched for blocks. The tops were used to house solar panels, windmills, and grow food.
They drove on in the gloom under the solar farm. Fading, blue-hued LEDs imbedded in the concrete sides managed to push away total darkness. Rotting garbage piled high in the corners hid the equally unsanitary population of homeless. They crowded the sides of the street like ants. The storefronts had long since abandoned the stretch of road, bricking over their doors and moving their wares to the new prime real-estate on the platform above.
As they exited the tunnel, skyscrapers again shot up on either side. As they passed a small alley a large gas-burning SUV pulled out in front of them. It was amazing to see all that power contained in such a small place. All that waste. Whoever was driving could have paid someone to pull them around in a rickshaw for months instead of driving that machine for a single hour. She tried not to pay attention to the exhaust emitting from underneath the bumper or think about its effect on the climate.
After a minute of following the SUV through the man-made canyon of build
ings they passed under another solar farm, this one much longer. Stairs ran up the sidewalk leading to a safer walking path above the farm. The tunnel was so massive the light from the other side failed to illuminate the dark center. The homeless congregation stayed at the periphery.
At the very center of the solar farm angry red lights popped up on the SUV in front of the lead carp car forcing it to skid to a halt. The carp driving their car swore and slammed on the brakes to avoid an accident. The seatbelt dug into her bra uncomfortably as she was jerked forward. Brake lights stained the inside of the car like blood.
“Who the hell does this guy think he is?” the driver yelled. He picked up a comm and shouted into it, “Go put the fear of carbon in that smogger!” Tanya couldn’t hear the reply.
“I don’t care if he is driving the goddamn presidential limo, he can’t block traffic at the center of a farm! Get out there now, I’ll call it in.”
Then, without warning, the car in front of them exploded.
Blinded by the flash and deafened by the shock wave, Tanya couldn’t think. The fire ball blasted out the glass windows and lifted the lightweight electric car into the air. It crunched back on the pavement, a flaming husk of a vehicle.
“Get out!” the driver screamed, unlocking the security doors from the front. He sounded like he was shouting at them through a pillow. Her ears hadn’t recovered from the assault. In seconds, the carp had his gun out and had bolted outside.
They hastily unbuckled, but froze as gunshots rent the air. They cut clearly through her foggy ears. The carp collapsed back into his seat, forehead covered in blood.
Seconds later, both side doors were pulled open and Tanya found herself being yanked outside. Men in black gelvar and balaclavas held her fast while they hand-cuffed her. Not again! How can this be happening again?
Michael thrashed, straining to free himself against his captors. There had to be a dozen of them. One man hit him across the back of his knees with the butt of an assault rifle. He dropped to the ground. Another wrenched his arms cruelly behind his back and cuffed him. Luthor was also on his knees, head down in defeat, cuffed as well.
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