by T. C. Edge
“Sir?” said Quinn once more, increasingly firm. “Where is the falcon, sir?”
Slattery blinked, and gulped. He looked at Jason, who appeared as a blur before him.
“Tell him,” he said to the young officer.
Jason looked on, worried.
“Colonel, I think you need to sit down. You’ve gone very pale, sir.”
There was a body to Slattery’s side all of a sudden, one he hadn’t seen coming. Long arms tipped by wizened fingers reached out and ushered him towards a seat.
“Jeremiah, you’re pushing yourself too hard,” came Oppenheimer’s smooth, deep voice. “Take a seat. Rest a while.”
Slattery managed - just about - to shove the older man off. He shook his head and took a step away, almost stumbling. He managed to reach the table, flattening his palms on its surface to steady himself.
“I’ll rest when the job is done,” he grunted. He drew a long breath. “Jason, coordinate with Captain Quinn. Direct him to the falcon…” His voice wavered. “I want it shot down. Now, Lieutenant!”
“Of course, Colonel,” said Jason hastily, turning to the screen. He began typing on the glowing keyboard built into the table, speaking hastily down the line to Captain Quinn, relaying coordinates, speed, trajectory, altitude, and other details that…
He stopped. The sound of light tapping ended. His voice cut off abruptly.
Then he spoke once more, drawing Slattery’s failing eyes back to the screen.
“Sir,” Jason said, voice fractured. “It looks like they’ve found the tracker.”
Slattery’s blurring eyes refocused on the screen with some difficulty. He looked at the satellite map. It no longer held two dots, but one. A blue one.
The red dot was gone.
“They must have found it and disabled it, sir,” said Jason nervously, looking over.
Slattery stood up from the table, his heart beating strangely fast. His eyes drooped, his limbs slumped. The darkness began to gather, seeping in from the sides, the top, the bottom of his sight, like a slick of oil spreading quickly over clear water.
He felt himself teeter, and before he could even perceive the sensation of his legs giving way, or his heart constricting violently, or his frame collapsing heavily to the floor, the blackness took over.
He’d pushed himself too far, for too long, all for the good of this cause.
And this was his reward.
60
“Chloe, can you hear me…Chloe, are you all right?”
The soft words trickled into Chloe’s ears like a potion, comforting and warming and waking her from a troubled sleep. Her mind had been accosted by devilry in her dreams, of warped shapes of men marching across the lands, decimating all before them. She’d seen New York, her old home, turned to ash. She’d seen LA in the same state. She’d seen countless other cities and settlements burned and destroyed, an endless fire raging across the world, unquenchable, untameable. Unbeatable.
The future, Chloe thought as she writhed and wriggled behind her eyes. This is the future my father has created…
She felt a light jolt, and woke, suddenly, to find Ragan’s face so close to hers. He gasped and quickly calmed at his touch. His hands were gently placed upon her - one to her cheek, another to her shoulder - coaxing her awake. He breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes opened, quickly alert, nanites flaring, firing up.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her, soft smile rising. He looked worried.
She blinked, and looked around. She was still in her seat, locked into her harness. Ahead, down the passage, Tanner continued to pilot the craft, which had now levelled out, cruising quickly but calmly through less stormy skies.
She frowned, and shook her head, trying to stir a memory. Then it came; the attack, the other jet behind them. They’d been shot at, forcing Tanner into some frantic aerial stunts. It had quickly grown too much for her; the force, the pressure. She’d lost consciousness, the darkness flooding her vision. But where were they now?
“What…happened?” she croaked, frowning.
Ragan clipped open her restraints, releasing her. Her chest heaved with the sudden freedom.
“We lost them,” Ragan said. “It was the eagle, another jet used by the Crimson Corps.”
“They tried to shoot us down…” Chloe said absentmindedly, voice shallow, small.
Ragan nodded, eyes downcast.
“We’re on our own now,” he said.
He pulled her up from her chair, her head throbbing. She winced and rubbed her brow, as Remus hopped along her shoulder, watching her with concern. She looked around and found Nadia at the rear of the plane beside the briefing table. Upon it, a little device sat, blackened and cracked, emitting a light trail of smoke.
“What’s that?” asked Chloe. Ragan led her over.
“Tracker, one we missed,” said Nadia. “It’s how they knew where we were.”
“How did we miss that?” Chloe asked. She looked to Ragan. “Didn’t you disable all tracking devices when we went dark?”
“All methods of tracking us that I knew about, yes,” said Ragan. “They should only have been able to zero in on our position using the transponder, or via comms link. I deactivated the former, and we never made contact. I didn’t think to scan the jet for further traps.”
“So you never knew about this?” asked Chloe.
Of course he didn’t, she thought. Otherwise he’d have disabled it before.
“Must have been installed in secret,” said Ragan, shaking his head. “My scanner picked it up, hidden on the underside of the briefing table.”
“Jeez. Slattery has as bad trust issues as I do,” remarked Chloe.
“I’m not sure he even knew about it himself,” said Nadia, inspecting it. She looked up, hazel eyes lit by the interior lights above. “Think about it - no one came looking for us in those woods did they? We went dark right after Devil’s Pike. If Slattery knew, someone would have tracked us to the woods. They had plenty of time.”
“Or maybe they were just waiting to see how things played out?” suggested Chloe.
“Possibly. Then again, I know what Benedict Oppenheimer’s like. He’s just the sort to keep a personal tracker on board for his own use. He was the one who donated the jet to Project Dawn,” Nadia explained, seeing Chloe’s confused expression.
“Whatever the case, it doesn’t matter now,” said Ragan. “We’ve crossed a line. There’s no going back to base and making this right. And I don’t even trust to get in contact with Slattery now, even to try to explain things. Whether they’re trying to kill us for their own ends, or because they think we’ve gone dark to steal the data ourselves, it doesn’t matter. We’re in this alone.”
His words left a heavy sensation of isolation in the air, one that Chloe was used to. She’d sequestered herself away from the world for so long that this felt so depressingly familiar. Yet now, she had allies, friends she could trust and count on. Their experiences together were yet in their fledgling stage, but she felt a kinship with them, and now more than ever. All were outcasts like her, taken in by Project Dawn. Now, that last connection had been severed. It was the four of them only, alone. And while a stark change in fortune for the others, for Chloe it was a step in the right direction.
She looked at Ragan and Nadia now with an affection she could never have expected. She felt bonded to them, Ragan in particular, even after so short a time. She didn’t realise it - or perhaps she did, but only refused to think about it - but she’d longed so heavily for this affinity with others, this connection. Even amid all that was going on, she was buoyed by being in the company of this group.
So as Ragan and Nadia battled with the implications of what had happened, thinking themselves cut off, alone, lost souls with no affiliations at all, Chloe thought the opposite. She’d never had affiliations. She’d always been alone. And she’d take these three above an entire organisation of anti-technologists. She’d take them over a nation. Even if the NDSA was to wel
come her back with open arms, she’d brush the offer aside, and stand next to these three instead.
She didn’t need a cause to fight for. She didn’t need to operate within an organisation in order to feel purpose, or a point to her life. She needed nothing but her own heart to guide her, her path pointed out by her morality, her soul, her sense of good and evil.
This was her group now, her tribe, her family. This was her cause.
The short silence was broken by Tanner coming from the cockpit, expression unlike Chloe had yet seen it. He appeared tense, serious, his jaw clamped shut and eyes icy and narrow. It seemed the stress of escape was still in his veins. The joker in the pack had become their saviour, and Chloe saw him in a whole new light.
“You girls OK?” he asked as he came. “Sorry about all that just now. I didn’t see any other way…”
Nadia stepped towards him as he spoke, then wrapped her arms around his chest. He looked taken aback, even more so when she let him go, grabbed his face in her palms, and pulled him into a fierce kiss. His eyes bulged with shock, lips hanging open as Nadia withdrew.
“That’s for saving our lives,” she said. “You were…amazing, Cliff.”
A twinkle reappeared in Tanner’s eye, one side of his mouth curling into a small - still surprised - grin. “I should save your lives more often,” he mused.
“Well don’t be expecting a kiss from me,” said Ragan. He stepped forward and took Tanner’s hand, shaking it firmly.
“I guess that’s your equivalent,” smiled Tanner. His eyes turned to Chloe, playfully expectant.
She drew forward, lifted to her tiptoes, and kissed him on both cheeks, one after the other. “Thank you so much,” she whispered. “I’ll return the favour one day.”
“You already have, Chloe,” said Tanner. “You and Remus saved us all down at the farm. Something you’ll realise when you spend time with us - we all owe each other about a dozen life debts.”
“Then I’ve got some catching up to do.”
“Having seen what you can do, I’m sure that won’t take long,” said Tanner. His eyes then moved to the table, spotting the broken device. “You found something, then? A tracker?”
Ragan filled Tanner in on what had happened, and the group set their minds back into gear. It was as though their slump had been cast aside by the frenetic aerial chase, the group drawn closer together by the threat to their lives. The issue of returning to base had also been put to bed. All agreed now that there was no going back.
Instead, they were at an impasse, a fork in the road. Should they continue this hunt for the data, find some new way of tracking Mikel, and chase him down? He’d only escaped less than an hour ago, and his jet wasn’t anywhere near as fast as theirs. If they could locate him, somehow, then they just might be able to intercept him again.
The thought was one that Chloe shared with the group, a positive if slightly naive one. The others gently told her that they had no means of tracking Mikel, the assumption being that he’d have disabled the transponder within his little jet. Seeing as it essentially served as an escape pod for the falcon, there was an easily accessible link between the two. Tanner quickly checked to make sure, and soon confirmed that Mikel had cut ties.
The other option on the table was simply to give up. It had its merits, given the circumstances, though Chloe’s thoughts weren’t up to considering it quite yet. Oddly, it was Ragan who brought it to the table, his expression quite serious - as it so often was - when he mentioned the possibility.
The reaction of the group was lukewarm. It was fairly obvious that they remained disheartened by the chase so far, their ability to remain upbeat starting to wane. Chloe didn’t like what she saw. She was first to speak, and in firm denial of the option.
“We have a duty to complete the job,” she asserted, finding her audience surprised by her forthrightness. “Or, at least, I do.” Her voice faltered a little. “This is all my father’s doing. And now…it falls to me to make it right.” She looked around the group. “I could use some help, though, if that’s OK…”
Ragan smiled, as did the others.
“It’s as much my burden as yours, Chloe,” he said. “Perhaps more. You can’t be blamed for what your father did. Until recently, you didn’t even know about any of this. I’ve had it in mind for years, we all have.” He looked to Tanner and Nadia. Both nodded. “We swore an oath to Project Dawn, and even without them, we’re going to see this done. Right?”
They nodded once more.
“If it means finding Mikel, I’m obviously in,” said Tanner. “I know I said a few things in the cockpit,” he said to Ragan directly. “But…forget all of that. I’m still committed.”
“Good,” said Ragan.
“Same here,” said Nadia. “We’ve come so close, and I ain’t giving up now.”
The group looked around at each other, eyes sharpening, wills fixing. They didn’t need Project Dawn. They didn’t need the backing of the Crimson Corps. They just needed each other. They could do this alone.
“Soooo…” said Tanner, ending the silence. “Where do we start then?”
“Martha Mitchell,” said Ragan quickly. “Mikel can do nothing with that data on his own, and we know he was working for her…” He stopped, a sudden thought flashing to mind. He began feeling around in his pockets, one after another.
“What are you doing?” asked Tanner, bemused.
Ragan continued to search his body for a moment. The others looked around, brows lifting.
“Um…Ragan,” said Nadia. “You going to fill us in?”
Finally, Ragan’s frenzied search relented. He ran his fingers through his short black hair, nodding.
“The comms device,” he said. “The one we took off Mikel. The one he used - I used - to contact Martha.” He looked around. “It’s gone.”
“Gone?” said Tanner.
“Mikel must have taken it,” said Chloe, thinking fast. “When he grabbed you and took the sensory grenade.” Ragan’s eyes flicked away at the mention of the device that ended their mission so abruptly. He clearly still felt bad about it. “He must have stolen the comms device at the same time,” Chloe continued. “It must have been his plan all along.” Her mind was rushing, voice equally speedy in its delivery. “He got the money, and the data, and almost had us too.” She raised her eyes, reluctantly impressed.
“Damn,” nodded Nadia. “He played us like a cat with mice. Well, least we know where he’s headed then, right?”
“Not exactly,” said Ragan. “We know he’s likely to be arranging a new trade with Martha, but we don’t know where or when. She might well be back at base still.”
“No way,” said Tanner. “From what you told us, and the way that call with her went, she’ll have left the base immediately. She won’t be sticking around waiting for Slattery to take her in. Nah, she’ll be heading home. She’ll probably have one of her cronies collect the data for her. Those bodyguards of hers are nano-enhanced, ex soldiers of the Ravens. It’ll be one of them probably…”
“Sorry, hang on,” said Chloe, frowning and trying to keep up. “Who are the Ravens, exactly?”
“You never encountered them when you were on the run?” queried Tanner.
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know who they are, so…”
“They’re the special forces of the Mid-States,” said Ragan. “Basically their equivalent of the Panthers, Spectres, and Southern Queens. They’re not as prolific, seeing as the MSA have barely been involved in the war for some time. They wouldn’t have hunted you because the MSA have no interest in getting the data. They have no synthetic program, at least not as far as I know. We tracked most threats over at the CID, and never even thought about the MSA.”
The group shared uneasy looks.
“Sometimes your enemy is one you don’t even know is there,” murmured Nadia quietly, looking around the group. “Who really knows what’s been going on in the MSA. They’ve become very secretive in recent years. They know th
ey don’t have the clout to fight the WSA or NDSA in a full blown war. Perhaps they’re more of a threat than we - than anyone - realises.”
“Really?” huffed Tanner, doubtful. “The Mid-States? They’re a bunch of doves, preaching out against war. They have no interest in it anymore…”
“Or so they’ve made us think,” said Nadia thoughtfully. “Martha Mitchell is a resident there, a prominent one at that. She’s not the end game here; she’s working for someone. Who do you think that is, exactly, if not her own nation?”
“Could be anyone,” said Tanner, trying to dismiss the idea. “She was working with Project Dawn, so clearly her loyalty…”
“She was working as a spy, Cliff. Or did you forget that part? Her loyalty has probably always been to her nation. They’ve been stamped under the boot of the other nations for years. Maybe this is their revenge.”
Chloe watched the debate, narrow-eyed, thinking, with nothing to contribute. She’d spent her time evading capture, not analysing the political discourse, the current state of play between the nations of the Disunited States. Sure, she knew the gist of it, but not much more.
It seemed to her that Tanner’s perception of the Mid-States was how everyone saw the smallest nation on the continent: militarily, politically, and economically weaker than all the rest. They had been ignored and forgotten in this hunt, this fight. But by logical reasoning, a covert move by them to get their hands on the data made perfect sense, if only to deny it from the others. Or, more worryingly, to use the research to fuel their own military power. To use it to gain vengeance.
She zoned in again to find Tanner and Chloe continuing the heated discussion, until Ragan drew it to a close with a raise of the hand and a calming word.
“Look, let’s work with what we have, OK,” he said, looking from one to the next. “We have this lead on Martha, but it isn’t much. As Tanner says, she’s probably left the base, but that doesn’t mean much either. Most likely, she’ll have gone home, but we can’t be sure…”