The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

She moved behind Admiral Cho’s desk, took a seat, and indicated that Lendra and Truman should sit as well.

  “I want you to call Eli,” Zora said, pointing to the PlusPhone on the desk. “I’ve lowered the dampening field temporarily. Tell him I’ve taken command, not Curtik. And we’re going to do things my way from now on.”

  “Why don’t you call him yourself?” Lendra asked.

  “He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Zora answered.

  “How do you know?”

  Zora leaned forward, her intense eyes focusing on Lendra’s face. “Do I seem like an idiot to you?”

  Lendra’s head jerked back a few inches. “Of course not. I’m sorry. Did I say something to offend you?”

  “I called him,” Zora said, leaning back in her chair. “Or at least I tried to. He didn’t answer. His tech assistant, Jay-Edgar, told me he’d only talk to Curtik. Wouldn’t even take a message from me. Why do you think that is?”

  Lendra shrugged. “Perhaps he doesn’t know how to deal with you. Before I left, he briefed me on the program and how he intended Curtik to lead the attack against Earth.”

  “What does it matter which of us leads?”

  “I think he feels more comfortable with Curtik’s brand of aggression. And I suspect he’s a little afraid of what you’ll do.”

  Zora laughed. “The great and powerful Oz? He isn’t afraid of anyone. I think he’s just trying to piss me off so I’ll attack right away like Curtik would have.”

  Lendra shrugged. “He knew what to expect from Curtik, where the attacks would come, how to counter them. You’re an unknown entity. You could win.”

  “Oh, I intend to win,” Zora said. “But I don’t think I want to attack Eli’s targets. If I fire on the governments he chose, they’ll just set up new ones. So instead, we’re asking every government to dismantle its nuclear and bio-chemical weapons, stop all aggressive actions. You do that and we’ll let your people live. Simple, no?”

  Truman shook his head, as if marveling at her naiveté. He said, “That will never happen. Even if the United States complies, no one else will. And there’s no way the United States will comply.”

  Without taking her eyes from Zora’s face, Lendra said, “She doesn’t expect them to comply, Colonel.”

  “That’s true,” Zora said. “But I want to at least make the offer. Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise me.”

  “And how long do we have?”

  Zora’s face went blank, accessing her implant, no doubt. Lendra looked up at the screens lining the walls—light cloth fabrics made from conductive metamaterial. On each screen a different scene was displayed: a few from the Moon but most from Earth. Washington, DC; Paris; London; Beijing; New Delhi; Rio de Janeiro; Jakarta. After a moment, Zora said, “I think forty-eight hours is about right. That seems fair, doesn’t it?”

  “Two days?” Lendra said.

  “Impossible,” Truman said. “No nation will be able to make a decision about that in forty-eight hours.”

  Zora turned to face him, her brow furrowing. “Let me explain something, Colonel. The old days are gone. Whatever quaint notion you might have about how to deal with a problem like this—how to wriggle out of complying—forget it. We’ll deliver a mass transmission to every nation outlining my ultimatum with instructions on how to relay the codes verifying that weapons systems have been disarmed.”

  Zora swung her chair from side to side like a little girl. Lendra found her fascinating—a militaristic version of herself. This girl was what Lendra might have become had Eli begun his program a few years earlier. Lendra pushed that thought aside and said, “Why offer terms we can’t possibly meet?”

  Zora stopped the chair and leaned forward. “Shall I tell you what will happen?”

  Lendra sat back in her chair with a grim smile. “Why not?”

  “Your governments—and even the great and powerful Oz—will beg for more time, insisting that a decision can’t be made so quickly, that others must be consulted or that the technological requirements are too complex for my demands to be met within the deadline. At the same time, behind the scenes, they’ll prepare to launch attacks at us—shielded missiles and rockets with nuclear warheads, not to mention attempts to align the Las-cannons on our position. They will fight to the death for the freedom to pursue their policies of madness and violence. They are convinced their way is the only correct way to rule, so everything else must be wrong. And they will never, ever give up the power they so desperately desire.”

  Zora smiled sadly. “But if I start killing them, they’ll just create new leaders, resolved to stop us. So they have to voluntarily step down.” She pointed to the PlusPhone again. “You have forty-seven hours and fifty-eight minutes left.”

  Lendra placed the call to Elias Leach. “You need to speak with Zora,” she said. “Curtik’s out of control and she’s in charge. And if you don’t listen to her, she’ll simply cut you out of the loop.”

  “Fine,” Eli said after the three-second lag. “I’ll conference in the President.”

  When President Hope appeared onscreen, sitting next to General Horowitz and Secretary of Defense Raskov, Zora outlined her demands.

  President Hope said, “That’s impossible. We can’t even reach the leaders of every country in forty-eight hours.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Zora said. “We’re already taking care of that for you—broadcasting to every country even as we speak.”

  During the lag time, President Hope’s expression changed from resolve to surprise and then anger, while General Horowitz and Secretary Raskov looked off camera. “Hold on a moment,” the President said as the sound muted and she too looked off camera. The screen went blue for a few seconds. When President Hope reappeared, she said, “It’s not as simple as flicking a switch. We can’t just disarm ourselves instantaneously.”

  “No, it’s way more complicated than that,” Zora agreed. “There are buttons to push and dials to turn and control bars to adjust. Why, the whole process could take many hundreds of seconds.”

  President Hope began to frown even before Zora finished speaking. Again, General Horowitz and Secretary Raskov looked off camera. Again, the screen went blue for a moment. Then President Hope said, “This is not a game. This is thousands, maybe millions, of lives at stake. We can’t just eliminate our defensive systems because you ordered it.”

  “Oh, it’s a game, all right,” Zora replied. “Just like all the wars started for illogical and unjustified reasons. Wars are philosophical games. I’ve just increased the stakes. You can argue about it among yourselves if you want, but I’m done talking. I’ve given you my terms. You can either do as I ask or see if I’m bluffing—makes no difference to me. Thank you for your attention and have a nice day.”

  Zora cut the connection. “That went well,” she said.

  “May I see Jeremiah now?” Lendra asked. “Or at least Dr. Poole.”

  “Ah.” Zora smiled. “You’re tense. Nervous. I think you mean to harm our good Dr. Poole. Why would Eli want to do that?”

  Lendra stared back at Zora, hoping her face betrayed nothing, but shocked that Zora had figured out why she’d been sent.

  “You’ve never killed anyone before, have you,” Zora said. She stood, indicating that the conversation was over. When Aspen entered the office, Zora said, “Show these two to their room. Something cozy, with a view of Earth and their very own bathroom.”

  “I know just the place,” Aspen said. “It’s only got one bed though. You’ll have to share. Don’t worry. You’ll have complete privacy.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Taditha Poole sipped her cup of tea, fighting back the nausea, while Rendela sat beside her, as if content to wait all day. Why did she feel so ill? She turned to Rendela, who shook her dark hair and said, “Zora’s still busy. But your request is important to her. She’ll be with you shortly.”
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  Rendela laughed.

  “No, it’s not that,” Poole said. “I was wondering if I can run a blood test on myself—see if I’m coming down with something.”

  Rendela shrugged. “It’s your blood.”

  Poole took a sample and placed it in the diagnosticon. While she was waiting for the machine to display its report, she focused on one of the screens, which showed an image of Earth. She ramped up the magnification until she could see Naples, Florida, her hometown. How she longed to return there. But she sensed that she’d never touch Earth again. God, she was tired of the Moon. For a while, Jack Marschenko had made it bearable, but now it was only a cold and desolate rock again. After a moment of staring at her hometown, she broke the silence:

  “I hope you didn’t kill anyone on that LTV.”

  “We all know you have a thing for Elite Ops troopers, Doctor,” Rendela replied.

  “I’m concerned about your well-being. What is Zora up to?”

  “About five-feet, six inches. Now sit back and enjoy the tranquility. It’s only going to get worse.”

  Rendela was right. It was bound to get worse. Nothing was going according to Eli’s plan. Curtik was supposed to be in charge. He would have attacked the governments Eli dictated should fall. Or would he? Maybe he would have been even more out of control, attacking civilian populations. And perhaps that was Eli’s plan all along. Perhaps that was why he insisted Curtik lead the attacks. Curtik’s rash arrogance would have led to his downfall. Zora was much more careful. Did Eli know what sort of battle he was in for now? Did he care?

  And how could these kids be better than the data indicated? She’d been monitoring them for two years. Was there some hidden human element that didn’t register on her scans? Or had they been holding back from the beginning? Was there some pre-capture component to their minds that she hadn’t anticipated, some essentially human imprint that didn’t show up on any scan?

  Their forced evolution had been so carefully calibrated. Then again, so had the Escala, and yet a few of them had become insanely violent. So if in fact there were some atavistic human condition buried in the cadets, perhaps it only affected a small number of them. Perhaps Damon’s devolution was tied to this same phenomenon.

  “What’s up, Doc?” Zora said.

  When Poole turned to face her, Zora chomped down on a large carrot, which made Rendela roar with laughter. Poole had been so focused on her thoughts that she hadn’t heard the door open. She kept her voice under control, saying, “I’m glad you finally have time to see me.”

  “Are you upset?”

  “Frankly, yes. And disappointed.”

  “Well, you raised me. So any criticism of me is really an indictment of your abilities. Perhaps, to keep you from making the same mistake again, we should take your child off your hands, just like Eli took us away from our families.”

  “My child?”

  Zora pointed to the diagnosticon. “Take a look. You’re pregnant.”

  Poole glanced at the diagnosticon. Sure enough, she was. “You connected to the diagnosticon with your implant. But how can I be . . . ”

  “I’m afraid I have no time to explain the birds and bees to you, Doctor.”

  Poole opened her mouth, but no words came out. She glanced at Rendela, hoping for help of some sort, but Rendela only smiled and looked away. “Please,” Poole finally managed to say. She wasn’t sure why she was saying it, what sort of favor she was after; she only knew she needed help.

  “I’ve been busy,” Zora said, “going over the strategy mapped out by Eli and Cho, and looking over your notes on our progress. I’ve asked Devereaux to join us. Would you come with me, please?”

  Rendela grabbed Poole’s arm and steered her along, following Zora toward what used to be Cho’s office. As they passed Curtik in the hallway, he smirked at Poole and stuck out his tongue at Zora. Neither Zora nor Rendela saw it. But Curtik noticed Poole watching and chuckled.

  When they reached Cho’s office, Devereaux was already inside, seated in front of the desk, Aspen standing behind him, her Las-rifle pointed at the floor. Devereaux wore the same calm expression he brought to every occasion, unsurprised and indulgent. He nodded to Poole, Zora and Rendela, including each in the warmth of his smile. Poole smiled back, her muscles relaxing.

  “What’s up, Doc?” Aspen said as she too lifted a large carrot to her mouth and chomped down on it. She laughed, as did Rendela, Zora and even Devereaux.

  Zora moved around the desk and sat in Cho’s big chair. She had to know she looked faintly ridiculous sitting there. Zora pointed to the other chair. “Have a seat, Doctor.”

  Devereaux said, “I had hoped to be able to study the Susquehanna Virus further.”

  Zora leaned back and cocked her head. “You’ll get your chance. But this is more important. Did you look at that data I forwarded?”

  Devereaux nodded. “Your genetic and nano-tech records. Fascinating material. But you didn’t tell me what specifically you want me to check.”

  “I want to know what they’ve done to us,” Zora said. “I don’t trust Dr. Poole, so I want to hear it from you. What’s the matter with us? We’re adults now. Yet we’re . . .”

  “Why don’t we want sex?” Aspen said.

  Devereaux looked at Poole, his dark eyes fixing her to her chair like pins in a butterfly. She’d met him before, of course, but she’d never before noticed how singular his gaze could be, how unwavering. She resisted an urge to squirm. Yet his voice, when he spoke, was gentle enough: “You didn’t explain it to them?”

  “I haven’t had the chance,” Poole replied. “Zora hasn’t condescended to speak with me since the takeover.”

  “All right.” Zora placed her palms on the desk and turned her attention to Poole. “Tell me.”

  Poole took a breath, gathering her thoughts. “You obviously know about the controls that keep you from harming me. And you overrode them somehow or you wouldn’t have been able to murder Admiral Cho. I still don’t know how that was possible.”

  “Simple, Doctor. We treated it like a game. We just put him in the airlock like he was a naughty boy—which he was.”

  “But Curtik opened the outer doors.”

  “Yes,” Zora agreed, “but he was wearing a QuikHeal bandage. And he’s Curtik. I don’t think any of the rest of us could have done it. He has something extra in him that allows him to go beyond where we’re supposed to go. That’s why we need him. He can do things—terrible things—that we can’t. I’d hate to turn him loose on you. So talk.”

  “We created a series of psychological and chemical barricades to sexual development as a means of furthering aggressive behavior.”

  “So we would attack Earth.”

  “Yes. And even though you’ve technically gone through puberty, the parts of your brain stimulated by thoughts of sex—the pleasure centers—receive electrical impulses that interfere with their normal circuitry and divert the expected responses away from the urges that cross your mind.”

  “In other words, when we have thoughts of a sexual nature, we don’t derive pleasure from them the way we should.”

  “Correct. Instead, your brains divert your thoughts to images of conquest, keeping you on task for your mission. And of course the boys receive a chemical cocktail that prevents them from maintaining erections.”

  Zora nodded. “How soon can you reverse it?”

  “I don’t know if—”

  “Perhaps I should rephrase the question,” Zora said. She looked over Poole’s shoulder. “Rendela, what’s the status of the airlock?”

  “It’s lonely,” Rendela answered.

  Aspen giggled; Zora smiled; Poole’s throat dried up.

  Devereaux said, “I wouldn’t recommend what you’re thinking of doing.”

  Zora stabbed a finger at Poole. “Putting her in the airlock? It’s plent
y roomy.”

  Devereaux shook his head. “This is the biggest thing that will ever happen to you. It will change you irreversibly. I suspect that you weren’t designed to be sexual beings. You’re not emotionally prepared for your adult bodies. If you become sexually charged, the experience could overwhelm and ultimately destroy you.”

  Zora shook her head. “I don’t care. I want to be a real person. We all do. Even Curtik, though he probably won’t admit it. Besides, don’t you want us to fail? We’re the bad guys. And according to the vids, bad guys don’t win. It’s frustrating.”

  Poole said, “You’re not bad guys.”

  “Aren’t we?” Zora turned to Devereaux. “Are we bad?”

  Devereaux shrugged. “What you’re planning is wrong.” He turned his dark brown eyes to Poole and stared at her with disconcerting intensity. “You may have meant well, Doctor. But Eli’s plan cannot work over the long term. Cooperation, not competition, is the only lasting solution for Earth’s problems.”

  Zora looked at Devereaux. “You know about Eli’s plan?”

  “Jeremiah told me about it. But it assumes that humanity cannot change—that we’re destined to think and act a certain way, and that we’ll destroy ourselves without an external guiding force—like God. Or you.”

  “Well spoken,” Zora replied. “We are certainly Eli’s greatest achievement—transgenic and nano-modifications, intellectual and physical enhancements.”

  “And stunted emotional growth,” Devereaux finished.

  Zora leaned forward, her shoulders hunched as she glared at Devereaux. Poole knew how intimidating Zora could be when she focused all her energy on you. Yet Devereaux looked calm. Zora nodded slowly and said, “Why aren’t you afraid of us? Dr. Poole is.”

  “Dr. Poole is a sensible woman,” Devereaux said. “She knows you’re angry with her. And you have every right to be. But you have no reason to be angry with me. Even if you were and you decided to kill me, I couldn’t do anything about it. I’m powerless.” He pointed to his head. “This is the only thing of value I possess—my only weapon. And whether I live or die, my ideas will continue for a while, which is about as much as anyone can ask. Still, if it makes you feel any better, you do perturb me.”