Rick looked stricken. “I did and, Misha, I am so sorry. I hope you—”
Sokolov pinched up her face, “Pfft, I’m not sorry. I feel great.” She winked at him. “Not as great as when you were fixing me, but still, pretty damn great.”
“So, her injuries are repaired?” asked Omandi in a flat tone that clearly conveyed how much she wanted to shift from some aspects of their current conversation.
The doctor nodded, “Yes, completely. I visualized the damage and adjusted the programming for Misha’s nanites to more effectively heal her. They would have gotten her there, eventually, but only after she’d rested sufficiently.”
Sokolov furrowed her brow then rolled up her shirt to expose the previously wounded area. “No scar,” she said.
“Of course not,” replied Rick defensively. “I said you were completely healed. If there remained a scar then—”
“You don’t understand, Doc,” said Misha, “I like the scars. They help me keep track of things and remind me not to make the same mistake twice.”
“But,” he began.
Misha shook her head and placed a finger on his lips. “Nope. Next time you heal me, and I really do hope there will be a next time, please leave the scar, okay?”
The doctor opened his mouth to respond but Omandi intervened. “Don’t take the bait, Doctor. It will not end well for you if you do. Misha likes to tempt people into some strange games and I’ve learned that the only way to win is not to play.”
Damien turned his hand terminal toward Charlotte. “Now, James is calling me. What do you want me to tell him?”
“Tell him the same thing I asked Misha to convey,” answered Omandi with frustration.
Damien spoke softly into the device while Charlotte continued talking with Richard. “Uh, Captain,” began the android, “James says, the Galileo’s sensors are picking up increased traffic in the area and—”
“It’s the French Quarter,” said Omandi, “it barely gets going until midnight. I suspect this is just normal activity. Does he have any reason to believe otherwise?”
The science officer nodded. “Yes. As you know, Coleman now has overall systems control for Ice Station Zebra, Galileo, and Bladerunner, wherever that is. Coleman says, in addition to traffic that is abnormal for this day and time, there are also encrypted mobile communications occurring.”
Misha stood up. “Ok, that’s it. I’ve been warning you nicely, Captain. Now I’m going to engage my mother-bear-bitch persona. That’s the one that doesn’t really give a shit about any objections you might have. We are leaving. Doc, grab whatever you absolutely have to take with you.” She projected her voice toward Damien’s hand terminal. “James, take Galileo to the LZ where you dropped us off. Confirm?”
The Irishman’s voice sounded slightly tinny and Damien thumbed up the volume control. “Not that I don’t like having you order me around Misha, but I really need the captain to do so,” he said.
Sokolov glared at Charlotte. “Don’t test me on this one, Captain, please. I’ve been in enough scrapes to know that the kind of encrypted traffic Coleman is picking up means nothing but bad news.”
Omandi nodded. “Lt. Branson, the order is given. Please arrive to pick us up in—” Charlotte broke off and softened her tone as she turned to Richard. “Rick, I know you must still have a million questions, but I’ve learned the hard way what happens when I don’t trust my security officer. How much time do you absolutely need?”
Doctor Carpenter gave her a wan smile. “While I appreciate the care you’ve taken so far with respect to background explanations, it wasn’t necessary.”
“Really, why’s that?” asked Charlotte.
Richard stood and walked over to a corner of his small examination room and lifted the lid from an antique wooden trunk. He pulled a large leather backpack from within and hoisted it on one shoulder. Carpenter adjusted his pack and smiled. “I’ve known this day was coming for quite some time, Captain Omandi. Doctor Howard first came to me when I was a freshman in college. More than any of Howard’s other children I needed explicit understanding and training about my enhanced capabilities.” Rick chuckled, “I wasn’t even planning on going to medical school before Doctor Howard explained the nanites and showed me how I could control them. Prior to that, they were autonomous just like they are in Misha. The fact that I never got sick was a minor curiosity that I had simply chalked up to a better than average immune system.”
Misha stood and faced the doctor. “So, just how much do you know?”
He shrugged. “I know about how the 1945 Trinity detonation started an alien death-clock for our species. I know Doctor Howard was given some advanced alien technologies and used some of those to create the eugenics program of which we all are a part. Finally, I know that Charlotte and I are the first generation of his children. Judging from your apparent age, Misha, I suspect you are generation two. Howard told me there would be a third generation focused around clairvoyance and psionics. He even asked my help with it some years ago because the third generation had so many failures. Do you know if he ever succeeded?”
Charlotte nodded. “Our communications officer is third generation.”
“She must be very young, then,” said Carpenter.
“Yeah, she’s in her late teens,” interjected Misha, then narrowed her eyes. “If you knew all this, why in hell didn’t you say something? We’ve spent almost two hours spoon-feeding you information to keep you from slipping into some kind of fugue state.”
“Which I very much appreciate,” said the Doctor and set his pack down on the closed storage chest. “I didn’t want to be rude and, besides, you did provide some very useful information that I didn’t yet have, the Galileo, Bladerunner, and Ice Station Zebra all sound fascinating.”
“So, you are ready to go, with just that?” asked Charlotte gesturing to his backpack. “What about your patients?” Before he could answer Omandi moved toward him and squatted down in front of the leather pack. She ran her finger along the shield logo. “Where did you get this?” she asked.
“Hmm, oh, it’s from my grandmother. She bequeathed it to me in her will. I’ve had it ever since I was little. It’s over forty years old, but—”
Charlotte glanced over to Misha, “Look familiar to you, Lieutenant?”
“Yeah,” grumbled Misha, “it’s the same brand as that beast duffle I threw over your balcony. Fucking Howard. He’s been messing with us for at least three generations.”
Carpenter shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Omandi stood to face Damien and asked, “Do you have any memories of this?”
The android frowned. “Nothing specific to either of you, however, I do remember Doctor Howard acquiring a significant number of Saddleback Leather items throughout his life.”
“He’s an ass,” offered Misha, then said, “Grab your bag, Doc, we’re leaving.”
Carpenter nodded, then pulled his own hand terminal from inside his jacket pocket. He unlocked it and activated its voice assistant. “Siri, execute Armageddon script.”
A pleasant female voice responded. “Hello Rick, are you sure you want to transfer all patient records and upcoming appointments as defined by your armageddon protocol? This cannot be undone.”
Doctor Carpenter briefly looked across the room and at the three pairs of eyes that stared back at him. “I’m sure.”
“Please use the phrase, ‘confirm execution,’” said the female voice.
Rick took a deep breath. “Confirm execution.”
“Thank you, Rick,” said the voice, “All patient appointments, records, and prescriptions have been successfully transferred. All your personal records have been deleted. This hand terminal will now be wiped. Goodbye.” The device went black and Carpenter stared at it for several heartbeats then tossed it on the trunk.
He looked up and nodded at Charlotte. “Where to, Captain?”
Misha had just opened the back door to Doctor Carpenter’s office when her hand
terminal gave a distinct series of pulses. She slammed the door and cursed.
“What is it?” asked Omandi as Sokolov pulled the device from a pocket and unlocked it.
“We waited too long. Damn it to hell and back. When am I going to learn?”
“That doesn’t tell me what it is, Lieutenant,” growled Charlotte.
“Sorry, sir, it was an emergency transmission from James, well, really from Coleman. Local police have cordoned off this block because of a gas leak.”
“The infrastructure here is almost two centuries old,” offered Rick, “We do have gas leaks from—”
“No Doc,” said Misha, “In my entire life, never once has a gas leak been an actual gas leak. In fact, if you look up gas leak in my personal dictionary, there’s a picture of me getting shot next to it. Some hostiles are gonna breach this place any second. Get back inside. Damien, close the door between Rick’s office and the examination room, then everyone crouch down away from any windows.”
Less than a minute later all four of them were huddled together in Carpenter’s small private office while Misha’s fingers swiped furiously along her hand terminal. With a final tap, the device emitted a bright beam of light that she directed at the nearest wall. James, Coleman, and a rotating Howard Technologies logo all appeared in a three way, split-screen, projection.
“Who, or what, are they?” asked Rick.
Misha held up a hand, silencing him and directed her attention to the wall. “James, where are you?”
“At the landing site, like the captain ordered,” replied Branson.
“Get back here, then. I’m positive the whole building is already surrounded and whatever blackhats are waiting for us out there, they want us in the open. We obviously aren’t going to oblige, but they won’t wait very long before coming in after us.”
“On my way,” said James, “but how are you going to get to the Gal? There’s no roof access and I couldn’t land there, regardless. It’s way too fragile. I could maybe hover a few inches off—”
Coleman broke in, “Lt. Sokolov, I detect fifteen heat signatures converging on your location. They are armed and communicating via the encrypted mobile signals I noted before.”
“Well, shit,” grumbled Misha as she turned up the power setting on her HID weapon. The security officer nodded at the rotating logo and called over to Charlotte. “Why don’t you see if your red-eyed friend can deus ex machina our collective asses out of this mess.”
Omandi caught her meaning and said, “You’re the tactician, Lieutenant, tell the daemon what you need.”
Sokolov frowned. “I don’t think it works that way, Captain, but fine. I’ll give it a shot.” The security officer addressed the rotating logo and said, “Daemon. This is Lt. Misha Sokolov. Acknowledge.”
An instant later the logo broke apart and restructured itself into the, now familiar, face of Howard’s daemon. Its red irises swept the room, then focused on Misha. “I see you, Misha Sokolov.”
“Great. You are about to see us all murdered unless we get some backup or immediate extraction. Figure out one or both.”
“I’m sorry, Lt. Sokolov,” said the daemon, “you are not authorized to issue commands. Only Captain Omandi is authorized to issue commands.”
Charlotte drew near her security officer and said, “Daemon, I authorize you to accept tactical commands from Lt. Sokolov for the next sixty minutes.”
“I am sorry, Captain Omandi, but you are not authorized to alter my structural permissions without concurrence of the first officer.”
“I don’t have a first officer, yet,” growled Omandi.
“That is correct, Captain.”
Charlotte ground her teeth in frustration. “Ok, Misha, I’ll issue the daemon instructions. When, I miss something vital, just stop me.” Sokolov gave her a curt nod and Omandi narrowed her eyes at the daemon. “How long do I have before the fifteen hostiles breach our position?”
“There are sixteen hostiles, Captain, organized in four teams of four. They are communicating via an encrypted 6G network.”
“Can you decrypt it and—”
“Decryption complete. Hostiles are United States special forces operating under a United Nations security council resolution. They are not yet in optimal position. Their mission commander estimates seven minutes and has requested final breach authorization. There appears to be some concern that Lt. Sokolov might terminate you rather than allow you to be captured.”
Charlotte shot Misha a glance and the other woman shrugged. “I don’t know where they get this stuff, Captain. I’m telling you, my reputation with all these governments has gone to complete shit ever since Ukraine, but I’m not going to kill you under any circumstances.”
“God’s sake, Misha, I know that,” said Omandi. She gestured outward, “but they don’t. We can use that. I consulted with the US government on counter terrorism engagement protocols. Right now, there’s a bunch of folks gathered around a long table, in a stuffy room, several floors beneath the Whitehouse. Several of those people are poring over data about Misha Sociopath Sokolov. Daemon, can you insert intelligence that reinforces their opinion that Misha will not allow me to be taken alive?”
“Yes, Captain. There is currently an open communication between US and Chinese intelligence agencies. I can insert your requested communication in the next Chinese data package. Would you like me to do so?”
“Yes,” said Omandi.
“Package created. Standby. Package delivered. Standby. Package opened. Standby. Standby. Standby. Assault team has been issued new rules of engagement. They are to take position and not breach until further instructions. I estimate you have fifteen minutes.”
Charlotte let out a breath and smiled at Rick’s relieved expression. “Sorry,” he said, “this is not at all what I was expecting.”
“Trust me, doctor,” offered Damien, “this isn’t what any of us expected.”
“Oh no,” sneered Misha, “I was expecting it.”
“Quiet,” barked Omandi. “Daemon. What are our options for backup during the available time window?”
“There are no options within the remaining fourteen minute time window.”
“Wait, what? None? You found a jet for me in seven minutes and had it stall outside a Nairobi condo. You could do that, but you can’t find us any backup options?”
The daemon’s face shattered and reformed several times in quick succession. “Allow me to clarify, Captain. I can find no backup support options that will alter your current situation in any meaningful way.”
“What about buying us more time?” asked Misha.
“Can you extend the time before hostiles attack?” asked Charlotte.
“No.”
Omandi shook her head. “Can you extend the time before they are able to get to us?” For several seconds the daemon face continued to shatter and reform.
“Did you break it?” asked Misha.
“It’s thinking,” said Damien.
Misha gave a mirthless laugh, “Holy shit, if that thing takes this long to think about anything, we must be really f—”
“Yes,” said the daemon. “Lt. Branson can extend the Galileo’s plasmatic shields to cover entry points. The shields were not designed for this function and he will need to rapidly reposition the Galileo to accomplish this. I estimate less than a 20% chance of success.”
“Screw him, Captain,” said James through her still open hand terminal. “If it’s possible for the Gal to shield you guys, I can get her to do it.”
Omandi nodded. “Good, then deploy the Galileo’s shields around us.”
“Okay,” said James, drawing out the word, “How do I do that?”
“Daemon,” said Omandi, “Provide Lt. Branson instructions on how to deploy shields in the manner you suggested.”
“The Galileo’s shields are not designed for this function. They will need to be configured.”
“Then, reconfigure them.”
“Unable to comply, Capta
in Omandi. I do not have access to Galileo or Bladerunner internal systems. My lack of access is part of Doctor Howard’s Skynet safety protocol and cannot be overridden. The only person with both authorization and the requisite skills is your chief engineer.”
“I don’t have a God blessed chief engineer!” yelled Omandi.
“Incorrect,” said the daemon. “Chief Engineer Karishma Patel has been seated for seven-hundred-forty-two days. She is currently onsite at the Bladerunner construction site.”
“What!” exclaimed Misha and Charlotte in unison. Omandi turned accusingly toward Damien.
The android raised both hands and took a step back. “I’m sorry, Captain. I have no memory of this Karishma person being contacted. In fact, I have no memory of her at all except that she’s one of Howard-Prime’s engineering candidates.”
Charlotte pointed at Damien, “I swear, if your previous self wasn’t already dead, I’d fucking kill him myself. Why the hell didn’t I know about her?”
The daemon replied, “Doctor Howard believed that Lt. Commander Patel needed to work in isolation because the Bladerunner’s location—”
“Stop,” hissed Omandi. “Where is she?”
“I’m sorry, Captain, the Bladerunner’s location is trigger-locked by Doctor Damien Howard. Would you like me to open a visual link with the chief engineer?”
Omandi noted how everyone’s eyes focused on her and felt the familiar calm that had always been present during times of intense stress. Her voice split the silence without even the lightest trace of dread or fear. She perceived the change in her crew almost immediately. They relaxed because she relaxed. “Daemon,” she said, “connect me with the Bladerunner.”
Chapter 24
Karishma Patel
James, Coleman, and the daemon faded from the split-screen view projected by Misha’s hand terminal. They were replaced by the singular image of a large oval room with numerous displays. On each of them glowed the face of Howard’s daemon. A brown skinned woman sat with her back to whatever camera the daemon used to create its connection. Her hair was pulled back in a rough tail and she appeared to be looking from one monitor to the next.
Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children Page 27