by T. C. Edge
He took a breath, his words ringing out with a note of passion. Chloe glanced around again and saw several nodding heads.
“Each of us here have taken it upon ourselves to halt this progress, to hold humanity back from the precipice that they don’t even know is there. We are being led blindly, Miss Phantom, into the abyss. And to prevent it, sometimes sacrifices must be made…”
Ah, so there it is, thought Chloe, almost impressed, almost convinced. Lead in with a powerful speech, and then bring out the big guns. Tell me it’s my duty to do whatever it takes to help, even if that means giving my life…
“We have been brought here today for you, Miss Phantom,” continued Colonel Slattery. “For the secrets in your blood, and the dangers they pose. We have deliberated before on what we’d do if we found you, and have been torn each time. There is no easy decision here. But with our combined wisdom, and perhaps your own, we will reach the right one in the end.”
He seemed to be towing the line, sitting on the fence. But Chloe’s read on him was very clear - this man would be happy to make that tough call. If he had it his way, it would be lights out for her before the day was up.
“Now, let us consider our options. Who would like to go first?”
“I will go first.”
The response was immediate, coming from Chloe’s back. She turned and saw the auburn-haired woman lift straight from her seat with a smile. She held an aura of affability that was in stark contrast to the Colonel, her eyes kind and body language open and relaxed. Even her voice sung with a pleasant tone, unlike the caustic bark the room had just endured.
“Right, Councillor Mitchell,” said Colonel Slattery. “Please, tell us your thoughts.”
“Gladly,” beamed the lady. She looked directly at Chloe. Ragan hovered nearby, watching intently. “My dear Miss Phantom, my name is Martha Mitchell, and I’m a resident of the Mid-States of America.” She checked herself. “Well, that’s only half true. In reality, though most of us reside here or there, this is where we truly belong. We are men and women of no nation. None of us would wish to swear fealty to these governments who are so obsessed with war. Even our resident Colonel,” she added, gesturing towards Slattery, “has long since turned his back on the WSA. But I digress…”
She drew a long breath into her lungs, and softened her tone further. Linking eyes with Chloe, she put on a motherly tone.
“Is it OK if I call you Chloe?”
Chloe nodded hastily, and tried to speak. Her attempt at saying ‘yes’ merely came out as a nervous squeak.
“OK, Chloe,” said Martha, a look of pain building on her face. “I cannot even begin to imagine how horrible these years have been for you. How terrifying. How hopeless. How lonely. I have spent long hours thinking about you, many nights of introspection, wondering just what I can do to help. And now, seeing you here before us, my heart truly glows. I make you a solemn promise, my dear - I will always be there for you. I will always fight your corner.”
Chloe’s calm was beginning to weaken. There was something powerful about being reassured like this, by a woman who adopted such a motherly air. It was akin to a warm embrace, and a simple declaration that, ‘everything will be all right’. Sometimes, those words alone were plenty to break even the most stoic-hearted man in times of need.
And this, for Chloe, was a time of need. In a room of stony faces and glaring eyes, she had an ally, a supporter. It was plenty to wet her eyes, and weaken her knees right there before them all.
Thankfully, Martha spoke again before she could crumble, drawing the attention of the room.
“Now, everyone here, my dear Chloe, knows my position. And I know theirs. As Colonel Slattery alluded to, we have spend much time discussing your fate, though I hate the idea of it. Who are we, after all, to determine what happens to you?”
“We are the gate-keepers, Martha,” came an old voice in response, “between the innocent people of this world, and the terrors of science that will consume them.”
Chloe looked upon a man of gaunt complexion. Though sitting, he appeared tall, his frame narrow and thin, his hair white and eyes grey as slabs of cold stone.
Martha turned to him.
“My question was rhetorical, Benedict, and not directed at you. We all know our purpose here, and now so does Chloe. But you betray yourself with your own words. You say we are here to protect the innocent, and I whole-heartedly agree.” She stretched her arm out at Chloe. “And who is more innocent than this girl? This girl who has endured so much, forced to do terrible things to stay alive. If we don’t try to save her now, then we are no better than anyone else. We are hypocrites.”
“No, we are not,” retorted the man called Benedict. “You cannot lay yourself down to save one soul. We are talking about the fate of humanity. Individuals do not count, not if they harbour such dangers that can only be expunged through…”
He stopped and looked at Chloe. A silence fell upon the room.
Still standing, it was broken by Martha, whose voice was shallow when she completed Benedict’s sentence.
“Expunged by death,” she said, looking directly at Chloe. “There is no point in us tiptoeing around the issue anymore, ladies and gentlemen. My dear girl, this is the truth of it. Most around this table will see you dead to keep those secrets from getting out. But not me. There are other solutions that are available to us.” She looked over the rest of the council. “We owe it to this poor girl to do all we can to save her. She has earned that right. She has done more than any of us in keeping these secrets at bay. Without even knowing it, she has evaded capture for three long years, and given us this time to grow, to built this resistance. Without her, it would already be too late. Now, tell me I’m wrong.”
Her words rang out across the room. Eyes turned thoughtful. Men and women of conviction were forced into doubt. And all the while, Chloe stood in silence, too frightened to do anything but look at her feet, only glancing at the councillors’ expressions to gauge their thoughts.
She’d been in war zones. She’d been hunted by nano-vamps. She’d lived for three years in fear and doubt, never able to settle.
But she’d never been so nervous as she was right now.
“You see, no one has a response,” said Martha. “Because we all know, in our heart of hearts, that Chloe doesn’t need to lose her life for this cause. That there are alternatives that we must consider…”
“What alternatives?”
It was another voice, another man. His accent was precise, clipped, coming with a suggestion of high society. Chloe looked at him and noted the slightly arrogant slant to his eyes, masking an inner pain. He was handsome, and had the appearance of a man in his forties, though the truth could be far different. He stood, revealing a well proportioned frame, and turned his eyes onto the girl on show.
“Miss Phantom,” he said. “My name is Archie Westham, and though I feel compassion for your predicament, I fear that Councillor Mitchell isn’t presenting things fairly. She is giving you hope, and that isn’t fair. She speaks of alternatives, but I see none. I apologise if you think me heartless, but I agree with Benedict, as do others around this table who haven’t yet had their say. Seeing you here before us, perhaps, has weakened their resolve. But the reality hasn’t changed. You represent a terrible threat to us all. I am sorry to say it, but your death is the only option I’m willing to consider.”
“Coward,” said Martha swiftly, still standing. Archie’s eyes swept to hers, leading to a brief standoff. “You have grown cold and callous over the years, Archibald. You don’t value life as you should.”
“On the contrary, Martha, I value life a great deal. I believe that is the purpose of this very council, this very organisation. I see the bigger picture. Perhaps you’re blind to it. We all appreciate your good heart, Martha, but in this particular instance, it’s out of place. A hard decision needs to be made. This is not a time to be soft. And still, we hear nothing of these alternatives…”
“We
ll, if you’d let me speak, then perhaps we would,” complained Martha, her friendly demeanour sharpening to something more threatening. She raised her hands to her sides, and glanced about the darkened room. “Look around you, ladies and gentlemen. We are in a fortress, hidden from sight. There is no reason why Chloe cannot stay here.”
“Here?” queried Archie with a slight huff. “And how long will that last? How long before someone gets wind of her presence, and comes to try to take her? We cannot place a band aid over a gaping wound. There is no point in a quick-fix, a temporary solution.” He looked at Chloe, who was having trouble making eye contact with anyone. “And,” he added, “it wouldn’t be fair on the girl, keeping her locked up on this base. It’s no place to live permanently.”
Colonel Slattery shifted his position. Archie Westham’s eyes noted the movement and slid over.
“Ah, of course, it’s rather different for you, Colonel. You are a military man. This place is…home to you.”
Slattery’s narrow eyes rested on Archie for a moment, before turning away. It seemed to lead to a brief impasse, both Archie and Martha dropping to their seats as the Colonel rose again.
“I think we need to hear another voice on this issue,” he said. He stretched his hand towards a nervous, mousy-haired woman of fairly youthful years, huddled in her seat and looking especially uncomfortable in these surroundings. The white coat she was wearing, as with Slattery’s military fatigues, suggested her line of expertise. “Professor Horton, your depth of knowledge on this vastly outstrips our own. Please, tell us just what we’re facing.”
Slattery sat down once again, and the woman nervously rose to her feet. Her eyes stayed low, only glancing up occasionally as she looked at Chloe to make her introduction. And when she spoke, her voice came in bursts, a symptom of both her awkward social manner and incredibly sharp mind.
“Yes, good…good morning, everyone. And…hi, Chloe.” She glanced up and tried a smile. It was unnatural, and fell swiftly away. “As…Colonel Slattery says, I do have an intimate understanding of the threat posed by this…um, information. I worked closely on the synthetic development programme over in the Western States, and I’ve seen firsthand how these new artificial lifeforms can operate and function. They will give unlimited power if…if the puzzle comes together…”
“And the final piece of that puzzle, Stephanie?” asked Slattery.
“Um, yes,” murmured Professor Horton. She glanced at Chloe again. “It’s…in her. Until now, all transference tests have failed. We…we tried to ‘remote control’ these synthetic bodies, but it didn’t work. We tried advanced AI, but again, didn’t have the right control. Only…um…the might of a full human consciousness is capable of properly completing these bodies. That data is a long way from completion.”
Colonel Slattery took over again, standing as Stephanie dropped gratefully back into her seat.
“A long way from completion, indeed,” he said, perhaps fed up of Professor Horton’s nervous, juddering manner of speech He also appeared to be a man who liked to control things, to run the room at his own pace. “The WSA have been working hard to find their own solution to the problem, to no avail. No other nation or tech company has come close. Only the NDSA, who managed to salvage some of Professor Phantom’s research data from the wreckage of the fire in his lab, have gotten anywhere. Yet even they require the final piece of that puzzle, which as we know lies hidden in Miss Phantom’s nanites. The simple truth, ladies and gentlemen, is that this key can never get out. I believe…”
“You believe that Chloe needs to die,” cut in Martha suddenly. “Just like Mr Oppenheimer here,” she gestured to Benedict, “and to Mr Westham. All three of you are of the same mind and always have been. And yes, even Professor Horton is likely to be swayed by not only the force of the awful things she’s seen, but the force of your opinion, Jeremiah. And the others,” she said, “gesturing to the final two women, and man remaining. “Councillors Beecham, Winterbottom, and Gutenberg. All are likely to fall under the power of your persuasion, Colonel Slattery, even though they have a great deal more compassion for this girl standing before us than you do. But you know what I believe, aside from doing all we can to save young Chloe? I believe, Councillors, that she deserves to speak. How dare we sit here and debate her life with such dispassion? This entire meeting is a farce, and we should all be ashamed of ourselves…”
Her eyes worked around the room with a motherly rebuke. Even the likes of Benedict and Archie appeared to show some shame and contrition at her words. Only Colonel Slattery remained of hardened, incorrigible disposition.
Martha look a long breath to steady herself, and then turned her eyes upon Chloe. She raised a smile that was a light in that dark, desolate room, and her voice turned soft as silk.
“Now, Chloe, let me apologise for my colleagues,” she said. “Please…tell us what you want.”
26
What do I want?
The question came quite abruptly for Chloe, the floor suddenly handed over to her, and her alone. She’d spent the last few minutes standing there, silent, having her future debated by strangers. She knew that there were three, at least, who would happily sign off on her death. The young professor would probably make four, though wouldn’t feel so good about it.
The other three who hadn’t been heard from were, if Martha was right, a little more forgiving to Chloe’s plight. And Martha herself? Well, the woman was a wonder. Without her voice, Chloe’s fate would already be sealed.
But, the question was a strange one, and came with the most blatant of answers. And when Chloe spoke, her words began with a croak.
“I…want to live,” she whispered, the room suddenly so silent. “I guess that’s…obvious.”
“Obvious indeed,” smiled Martha. “You want to live, like all people do. It is the basis of all human instinct, to survive. And you’re…what? Only 19 years old?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Martha shook her head, her eyes pained.
“Only a teenager,” she whispered. “Barely more than a child.”
Chloe couldn’t really agree. Technically, it was true, but she’d seen and done so much she felt like she was older and wiser than people three times her age. Still, she knew where Martha was going with this, tugging on the heartstrings. She let it play out, despite the simmering feeling of anger that was now beginning to boil.
How dare these people decide my fate. How dare they…
Martha let the moment extend for a few seconds. No one had the temerity to interrupt it.
Then, she spoke once more, leading Chloe on.
“So, Chloe, you want to live. Of course you do. But, you understand the importance of what lies inside you?”
“Of course,” Chloe said, her voice growing in strength. “I can see…where people are coming from.”
“How admirable,” smiled Martha. “I daresay you’re a better and braver person than all of us around this table. So, you understand the importance, and the threat, yet you wish to live?”
“If…that can happen…yes,” said Chloe. “I suppose I thought that, maybe, the data could be extracted from me, from my nanites? It’s clear enough you can’t do that here. But,” she frowned, thinking ahead, “surely they can somewhere? I mean, why else would people be hunting me if they couldn’t actually access the information?”
She looked around the table as she posed the question. When she came upon Martha’s face again, she found that the lady was smiling. And nodding.
“Precisely,” Martha said. “Why would you be hunted if the information was useless? Here, of course, we only want to get rid of it, hence the rather macabre solution posed by some of my colleagues. But, that isn’t true of anyone else. The secrets within you are a great prize, absolutely priceless to whoever obtains them. What use would those secrets be if they couldn’t be extracted?”
Martha let her words sink into the dark corners of the room. Then she turned to her side and a little behind her, to wh
ere Ragan was standing. She gestured him forward, and he moved from the shadows and into the light.
“We all know Ragan well,” Martha said. “He’s been our finest spy and tracker, and was the very one to bring Chloe here to this base. Such are his skills, that he’s managed to gain deep cover within the CID in New York. And therein lies the path for you, Chloe. Therein lies your freedom.”
“Freedom?” whispered Chloe, the word sounding so alien, so incongruent with her life.
“Yes, freedom,” said Martha. “There are but a few places on this continent where advanced nano robotics can be safely infused into a human body. And fewer still where nanites can be read and have their data extracted in its entirety. It just so happens that one such lab exists in the CID headquarters in New York. And, by something more than chance, something I would term ‘fate’, we happen to have a deep cover agent for the CID within our ranks. A man who has their utter trust. A man who is highly proficient in infiltration and extraction. A man who has told me before how he can bring you in, have the data extracted, and then bring you out again safe and sound.” She looked up to Ragan, whose eyes were grafted onto Chloe’s. “Isn’t that right, Agent Hunt?”
Ragan nodded firmly, standing tall and strong, his posture perfect. When he spoke, his conviction was total.
Had this been his plan all along? Had this been theirs, his and Martha’s, to show Chloe’s innocence, to try to get the council onside, and then present this alternative option?