The GODD Chip (The Unity of Four Book 1)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  Ellie’s reasoning module detected critical flaws in Hawkeye’s instructions. “I will proceed as directed, but if NASF has already sent their commandos, it is too late to stop them. I require time to assemble and weaponize a team. An Athena and a Steel are no match against a platoon of NASF Vipers. There is also the matter of securing air transport. Under the best of circumstances, the commandos will arrive on the island before we are even ready to depart.”

  “Yeah, that’s possible, but Carapach has suspended NASF fly-over rights. That means they’ll have to divert through the Northlands or head south over Texas, and they will also need to find friendly territory to land and refuel before they cross the Pacific Ocean. NASF has no aircraft capable of flying direct to Kauai.”

  While Hawkeye’s points would shrink NASF’s time advantage, Ellie still estimated the New Atlantian androids would arrive before she could accumulate the necessary resources. She shared her reservations and made a recommendation. “Contact the Limahuli village. Warn them. Seek their help in hiding Avana.”

  “If we could, we would, but there is no comms network on the island.”

  “What about drones? Beacon must have some here in Flathead or nearby.”

  “We do, but their range is too limited. They’d splash in the ocean long before reaching Kauai. Believe me, I have considered every option imaginable. You are our best hope.” Hawkeye paused briefly and then handed Ellie a slip of paper. “I’ve already sent feelers out to contacts in Pacifica to arrange air transport. Therefore, you only need to concentrate on assembling a team. Go to this address. Bentworth, the man who runs the android shop in town, lives there. Wake him up, take him to the shop, buy as many androids and weapons as you need. Tell Bentworth to bill the ranch. I will contact you as soon as I have an update on transport.”

  Hawkeye left without further discussion, leaving Ellie with a list of additional questions waiting in her brain core’s queue. With no time to waste, she dumped the queue and ordered the RV to abort Akecheta’s recharge. Seconds later, the retrofitted Steel undocked. As Ake turned toward Ellie, she said, “Here is the address of the human who operates the android shop in town. Take the RV. Wake him and bring him to the shop, forcibly if necessary. When you get there, secure the Makoas he’s repairing. Load them on the RV and alert me as soon as you have them.”

  “Copy that.”

  Ellie commanded the RV to open the mid-cabin door. As soon as it swung open, she disembarked and began to run toward the lodge.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Ake asked.

  “Focus on your task, Ake. I’ll meet you at the shop as soon as I can.”

  On the run to the lodge, Ellie consulted her time clock. It was 4:23 a.m. The jakali hunter would be angry at the early wake-up, but there was no way around the inconvenience.

  As soon as she entered the hotel, she scanned the lobby and zeroed in on the reception desk. It appeared to be staffed by a Caucasian android in sleep mode. Ellie approached apace. Whether aided by motion detectors or ultra-sensitive audio sensors, the desk android detected her presence and stirred to readiness. With a broad smile, he straightened his tie and said, “Good morning. How may I help you?”

  “I need to speak to a guest. Caelan Horn. Ring him, please.”

  “It’s rather late to disturb a guest. Is this an emergency?”

  “It is.”

  “May I inquire as to the nature of the emergency?”

  “No, you may not. It’s a private matter, but suffice it to say lives are at stake.”

  The desk clerk froze for a moment. Ellie suspected he was accessing the lodge’s security protocols. Her speculation was confirmed when he pointed to a hand reader on the counter. “Identification, please.”

  Ellie slid her hand into the device’s maw. The dual-purpose reader scanned for human fingerprints and android ID chips. When the device completed its scan, a green light appeared. The clerk studied his holocomputer and then said, “Are you sure this cannot wait until after six? The lodge highly discourages disturbing guests between midnight and six a.m.”

  “If it could wait, I would not be here now. Now, would I?”

  “No, I suppose not. One moment please.” The clerk tapped his fingers on the computer’s holopad and walked a few steps away. Seconds later, Ellie heard him say, “I am sorry to disturb you at this hour, Mr. Horn, but there is an android in the lobby who has requested to speak with you. Her name is Ellie…yes, I suggested she return later this morning but she wishes to speak with you now. She claims it is an emergency…I’m afraid I don’t know…she says it is a private matter…are you sure, sir? I can easily tell her to return at a time of your preference…yes, I see. Very well, sir. Again, my apologies for disturbing you.”

  The clerk pointed Ellie to the lobby elevators. “Room 424. Knock lightly, so as to avoid disturbing other guests.”

  Caelan clasped his hands on his knees and steadied himself on the edge of the bed. Squinting through the harsh glow of the bedside lamp, he looked around for his robe. It should have been lying on the armchair next to the bed or on the hook by the bathroom door. But it was nowhere in sight. “Where did I put the bloody thing?”

  Pushing up to stand, Caelan’s alcohol-bathed brain swooned. He grabbed for the ball-shaped knob of the headboard and steadied himself. Looking down, he saw a corner of his threadbare maroon robe peeking beyond the footboard. He staggered forward and bent down to grab the garment just as there was a knock at the door.

  “Hold onto your bloomers, luv. Be there shortly.”

  As he dragged the robe on, Caelan contemplated the android’s supposed emergency. A mere four hours ago, when he joined her down at the lake, she had been as relaxed and carefree as an android could be. What had happened in the wee hours since? What was so important that she could not wait until later in the morning? After all, Athenas in Caelan’s experience were primarily passive androids. They were not prone to act impulsively, particularly when interacting with humans. It was this dichotomy alone that had led Caelan to tell the receptionist to send Ellie up to his room.

  With the robe now on and tied, he cracked open the door. Ellie stared back at him with a serious, determined look on her face, a far different expression than Caelan had expected. Comfort bots like Ellie were programmed to be emotive. Under conditions of stress, they were more apt to appear fearful or distraught than steely-eyed.

  “Oy, luv. Now, why might you be rousing a drunken old man in the middle of the night?” Before he finished speaking, Ellie slammed the door shut and pushed past him. Caelan laughed. “By all means, come in.”

  “I need your help,” Ellie said.

  “Aye, that I can see. What kind of help?”

  “I want to hire you and your Makoas.”

  Caelan frowned. “You woke me to offer me a job?”

  “I had no choice. I am leaving Flathead this morning and I need you to come with me.”

  “Leaving? Not more than three hours ago, you said you expected a long stay in Flathead. What changed?”

  “I received new orders.”

  “New orders, eh?” Caelan sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed his arms. “Tell me about them.”

  For several seconds, Ellie stared back at him, her face devoid of expression. Finally, her eyes fluttered and she said, “There is a teenaged girl in urgent need of protection. I don’t have enough resources to do the job.”

  Ah, so that’s it, Caelan thought. She’s a bodyguard. The longer he pondered the thought, the more it explained about her personality, appearance and her interest in his Makoas. “I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong man, luv. I’m a hunter, not a bodyguard.”

  Ellie edged closer and said, “You rescue people from jakalis. Is that not true? You protect the ones you rescue and return them to their families.”

  “Aye, that’s technically true, I guess. But you make it sound nobler than it is. To me, rescues are secondary to killing jakalis. You have to understand, the people I manage to rescue are few
and far between. More often than not, I return dead bodies to families.”

  “Then sell me your Makoas. I will pay you a generous price for the lot. Enough to replace them twice over.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before, luv. My Makoas are not for sale.” Caelan reached out and took hold of her hand. “But I am sympathetic. Jakalis are nasty beasts, and they’re gettin’ smarter and bolder each and every day. I can understand why you want help. Tell me about the girl. You say she needs protection. From jakalis?”

  He was surprised by the warmth of Ellie’s hand, and by the light squeeze she gave in response to his. She sat down beside him and said, “The place she lives is infested with them…but jakalis are only part of what threatens her safety.”

  “What could be more threatening than living in a land infested with jakalis?”

  The grip of her hand tightened. “Being hunted by a platoon of Viper androids.”

  Of all the threats Caelan might have imagined, being hunted by Vipers would not have been among them. “Uh…and why, pray tell, would a platoon of Vipers be hunting a teenaged girl in a jakali-infested territory?”

  In the absence of a response from Ellie, Caelan’s mind lingered on the word teenaged, and then a possible answer struck him like a thunderbolt. “My Lord, she’s a jakali, isn’t she?” He let go of Ellie’s hand. “You’re trying to protect a jakali? And you want my help?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Ellie said, her eyes pleading with Caelan.

  “I’m afraid it is for me, luv. I despise the beasts. I’ll be damned if I help you save one.”

  Ellie coiled her fist. Caelan frowned. “No need to get worked up, luv. No offense intended.”

  When she unloaded the punch at his head, it happened so quickly, Caelan was helpless to fend off the blow. He staggered back and fell to the floor, Just before passing out, he murmured “Bloody hell.”

  CHAPTER 20: THE WINDING ROAD

  Beacon Laboratory

  Eagle Butte, South Dakota, Carapach

  The sheer number of tendrils emanating from the GODD chip was astounding. Yon’s eyes traveled around the holoscan image, her mind desperately trying to make sense of the spaghetti weave of nerves and capillaries connected to the chip.

  For as long as Yon had wondered what the chip might look like and how it might work, she had never imagined the sophistication of the nanochip on the screen. Defying explanation, the chip looked as if it had become part of Hoot’s body. It was no larger than the fingernail of Yon’s pinky and was connected with Hoot’s blood and nerve networks.

  While Yon had expected the chip’s integration with Hoot’s bloodstream, the connection between the chip and Hoot’s neural network came as a surprise. But, after pondering it, she was able to formulate a theory to explain the neural integration.

  The brain regulated the body’s release of hormones. Hormones played an integral role in the binding of DNA proteins. Hormones also played an integral role in stimulating puberty, the period of human development when hormone surges turned the bodies of children into adults. It was during puberty that gutations began to appear. The hormone surges ate away at poorly constructed synthetic protein binds.

  Yon surmised that Mugabe had incorporated a neural feedback loop to dampen the release of hormones during puberty, to slow the breakout of gutations and provide her smart-proteins the time to detect and repair gutations before they became permanent. This theory seemed to also explain Hoot’s diminutive proportions. Her chip hadn’t been defective. Her small stature was a side effect of the GODD chip. It dampened hormone release and thereby muted Hoot’s physical development.

  Turning her attention to Billy Hearns, Yon thought of Sarah’s description of what had happened when the chip was inserted in her son. She had said the chip made him sick. Had the sickness been caused by the chip managing the hormones circulating in his body? Had the same thing happened to Hoot twenty-five years ago? Was it simply the price one paid to heal gutations?

  Mariah Bloom had told Sarah that Billy’s symptoms would pass, which likely meant it took time for the GODD chip to fully enmesh itself into his neural network and establish firm control of hormone release. Yon wondered what might have happened had Sarah left the chip in Billy a little longer. His gutations might be cured by now.

  Baker Street Rowhouse

  Thunder Bay, The Northlands

  Miriam Heinz tugged up the hem of her skirt as she ascended the brick stairs. When she reached the covered landing, the overweight woman paused to slide the hem back into place and to adjust the tote bag slung over her shoulder. Seconds later, she hovered her hand over a holopad next to the rowhouse’s ornately etched glass door and then entered the building.

  Peering at the scene through binoculars from the privacy of a faux-tradesman’s truck parked across the street, NASF platoon leader Captain George Glick watched lights illuminate the first-floor windows. He lowered the binoculars and turned toward a bank of video screens in the back of the command vehicle.

  His team had broken into the rowhouse before dawn and placed surveillance cameras in both the first-floor offices of the tutor, Ms. Heinz, and the unoccupied suite on the second floor. As Glick watched the feed of one of those cameras, showing Heinz making coffee in a kitchenette, he tapped his earbud radio. “Blue team, go.”

  He had hoped to avoid accosting innocents like Heinz, but he now had no choice. Glick was tasked with finding Mariah Bloom before Beacon did and Heinz occupied the office suite below the empty one supposedly belonging to Bloom. His team’s earlier search of Bloom’s suite had yielded only one significant piece of intelligence — there was a complete absence of human DNA in the empty space. The second-floor suite had been thoroughly and intentionally sanitized.

  And while Glick’s team found fingerprints, hairs and skin cells on the walls, railings and steps of the stairwell leading to Bloom’s suite, Glick highly doubted any of the samples would be of value. He was equally skeptical of the DNA samples collected from Heinz’ first-floor suite. In his experience, someone concerned enough to sanitize DNA evidence from the second-floor suite would not have carelessly left their DNA in the stairwell or tutor’s suite.

  Also, given that Thunder Bay was like other settlements in the Northlands — self-governing entities unaffiliated with any country — Glick suspected many of the town’s residents did not contribute their DNA to the World Gene Registry. Still, Glick had dutifully sent all of the samples to the NASF lab in Duluth for processing and comparison with the WGR and New Atlantia’s Gene Registry. Maybe they would get lucky.

  Aside from the DNA samples, Glick’s team found no mentions in the tutor’s paper files related to Beacon, Billy Hearns, Jakali Syndrome or Mariah Bloom. It was possible the documents in the files were coded, but from all appearances, the papers were nothing more than student records and business-related documents. Glick hoped her holocomputer would yield something more meaningful, but it had not been in the suite. Presumably, it was in the large tote bag the woman had hauled up the rowhouse’s steps. Glick would shortly find out whether his presumption was accurate.

  Turning back to gaze out of the truck windows, Glick observed four of his Viper androids disguised as civilians come into view on the otherwise empty street. From the north came two joggers, one a white male, the other a black female. Approaching the rowhouse from the opposite direction was a bearded Hispanic man in a peacoat. Trailing behind him was another white Viper posing as a uniformed delivery man. He carried a large package and whistled while he walked.

  One by one, they entered the rowhouse. Glick spun around in time to see the startled Heinz on the video screen. She dropped her full coffee mug as she came face to face with the bearded man aiming a laser pistol at her. Seconds later, Glick received a message in his earbud radio from the bearded Viper. “Premises secured. Target in custody.”

  “Well done,” Glick said. “I’ll be right there.”

  Exiting the truck, the NASF captain hustled toward the rowhouse
. Now, if we can just squeeze some intel from the woman…

  Approaching Thunder Bay

  The Northlands

  The journey into the Northlands had taken far longer than Takoda thought was advisable. Each extra hour they spent trekking toward Thunder Bay was another hour head start for NASF. But as Maj. Spiers had reminded Takoda before they departed Eagle Butte, “Getting there fast won’t mean a thing if NASF sees us coming.”

  Spiers had been speaking of NASF’s satellite surveillance when he made the point. He assured Takoda that NASF had tracked every vehicle that had made the trip from Cannon Ball to Eagle Butte. Cassidy had reinforced Spiers’ contention before they left for Thunder Bay. “They also undoubtedly have eyes on this garage. Every person, every vehicle going in and out of the garage will be tracked. The only way to beat the surveillance is to trick them by every means at our disposal.”

  That had meant employing several ruses, including disguises, decoy vehicles, and changing up their vehicle on multiple occasions en route into the Northlands. Takoda had never seen Beacon deploy so many of its members and assets to make it all work. Eventually, once they entered into the thick forestlands of northwestern Carapach, territory very familiar to Takoda, they abandoned the last of their cars to hike through the woods while carrying a canoe. The boat aided their crossing of numerous small lakes that dotted the border between Carapach and the Northlands.

  Twenty-two hours later, they ditched the canoe when they reached a small village close to the major east-west road linking the settlement of Winnipeg with Thunder Bay. They were met there by a Beacon operative who provided them new disguises and a pickup truck. As they began the final leg of the trip, Spiers had said, “Well, looks like your Beacon friends’ trickery worked.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Takoda asked.

  “We’re still alive.”

  That had been two hours ago. Now, they were just an hour outside of Thunder Bay. As Takoda steered the pickup along the empty two-lane road, Spiers sat beside him with a laser rifle on his lap. If not for Takoda’s greater fear of NASF and the potential for a run-in with sleeping jakalis hiding in the forest on both sides of the road, the weapon in Spiers’ hands would have concerned him.