The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  On the south wall, the lanky Wally2 sat before a series of screens he’d set up. He fed incoming data to one of the screens while Sally2 looked over his shoulder like a vulture, dark and menacing. She had the muscular look of an Escala. No wonder Brosk had thought she might be one. And perhaps she was. Perhaps she wanted to live.

  Wally2 said, “That’s an awfully long message.”

  Sally2 said, “The message will be considerably shorter. Twenty-three, can you come over here and help with the decoding?”

  Sally23 stepped beside Wally2 and glanced at the long series of letters and numbers. She opened her PlusPhone’s UNCRYPT program and began changing parameters as the program queried various nonsensical clusters.

  “A message from Sally1 is rare,” Sally2 said. “It’s essential that we get this decoded as quickly as possible.”

  “So why am I here?” Wally2 asked. “Sally23 handles these.”

  “Sally23 needs to complete her assignment with Brosk. She may not be here to help you in the future. So you need to learn as much as you can about how she decrypts messages.”

  Sally23 felt her heart beating faster than normal. How soon was Sally2 planning to kill her? Soon, apparently.

  “Things are falling apart out there.” Sally2 gestured toward the other screens, which showed the Indian Army mobilizing along its borders with Bangladesh, Pakistan and China in an attempt to prevent virus-infected immigrants from reaching its populace. Meanwhile, China was also mobilizing troops along its borders. A few skirmishes had already occurred. “Look at all that destruction. Paranoia. Nations attacking each other for no reason. We already have a Sally cell in China. It’s too late for them.”

  Sally2 turned to Sally23. “You saw what Jones did. And those other two, especially the black woman—all three were enhanced. That’s what humans will become someday if we don’t stop them. Can you imagine a planet of super-humans waging war on each other? What would wars be like if people like Jones and Brosk were fighting them?”

  Or you? Sally23 wondered. She shrugged, trying to maintain a calm demeanor, emulating Brosk’s control. It was important that she seem completely on board with the plan. “You’re preaching to the choir,” she said as she continued finessing the UNCRYPT program. She glanced toward the wall screen that showed Trogan on a cot, drugs keeping him docile. She could recall no instance where he had acted anything other than honorably. His real crime was that he was nano- and genetically enhanced. If all humans were like him, perhaps the Sally movement wouldn’t have become necessary.

  Sally2 began to pace. “Hurry up,” she said. “We must learn what Sally1 wants.”

  Sally23 said, “The program can only go so fast. Do you want me to check on Brosk while we’re waiting?”

  “No. I’ll do it.” Sally2 made her way to Brosk’s room and stepped inside. She closed the door behind her, but Sally23 watched the screen. Brosk looked to be asleep. Sally2 bent over him, checking the IV drip, which was almost empty. She changed it out with another packet. Sally23 wondered what she was giving him and why she was using an IV. It couldn’t be the virus; she’d already infected him with that.

  It felt strange suddenly, being under a death sentence. Before, when she felt so certain of what she was doing, when living felt so hard, death had felt distant and unimportant. Now, however, with the feelings she had developed for Trogan, and with the likelihood that the two of them would be sacrificed soon, she struggled to avoid panic.

  Sally2 emerged from Brosk’s room just as the program finished its decryption.

  “Decoding complete,” Sally23 said as Sally2 crossed over to her side. She read aloud the text on the screen: “Jones in DC, not London. Other CINTEP agents your position. Use all means available to isolate and eliminate agents and Brosk.”

  Kill Brosk?

  Sally23 felt her heart thumping in her chest. Her throat constricted as a warm flush came over her face. Would Sally2 kill him immediately? She could feel her pulse racing and wondered for a moment if she was having a heart attack. Was the virus finally asserting itself?

  “You okay?” Wally2 asked.

  “This is a mistake,” Sally23 replied.

  Sally2 smiled. “I’ll enjoy killing him.”

  “Not yet,” Sally23 said. She took a deep breath, her thoughts fleeing in myriad directions. She collected herself as much as she could. “We need to use Brosk to attract the CINTEP agents. If we kill him now, how will we lure them in to eliminate them?”

  Sally2 frowned for a moment, then shook her head as she sighed. “I know what you’re up to.”

  Sally23 wondered if Sally2 could read the fear in her face. “We’re all going to die. We’ve all been infected. Why kill Brosk now when he can still be of value to us?”

  “Because Sally1 wants him dead.”

  “I thought this organization prized independent thinking, not blind adherence to orders that make no sense.”

  Wally2 stared at her, his mouth slightly open. The other Wallys stopped what they were doing too. They turned to watch her and Sally2, their eyes shifting between the two of them.

  Sally2 glared at her, small spots of red appearing on her cheeks. “We don’t question Sally1.”

  “She’s human, like us. She can make mistakes. And this is one of them. Killing Brosk now means we won’t be able to eliminate the other CINTEP agents. Our security team’s gone. Our dispersal Sallies are out in the field. We’re,” Sally23 gestured to the room, “all that’s left. We’re not warriors. The Wallys are techs. Who does that leave to eliminate the CINTEP agents? You and me? How are we supposed to do that? The only way we can succeed is by luring them in again. And for that we need Brosk. We’re supposed to be a separate cell. Let’s act like one.”

  “I have other resources at my command. You think these few people,” Sally2 gestured toward the Wallys, “are all there is?”

  Sally23 heard something in Sally2’s voice—a small catch, a pause, indecision—and she immediately understood that this small group in fact constituted the entirety of Sally2’s team. Sally2 had always been a bit paranoid, reluctant to bring new recruits into the group. Her dispersal team consisted of only three other Sallies now that Sally16 had been killed in Indonesia. And she’d relied too heavily on Andre for security matters. So now that the CINTEP agents had destroyed Andre’s squad, no one remained to carry out security tasks but the Wallys.

  “Omigod.” Sally23 shook her head. “We’re the last remnants of this cell, aren’t we? Jakarta was more than four times our size. I just assumed there were other squads I wasn’t familiar with, but we’re it. We’re all that’s left to carry out the mission.”

  Sally2’s face colored. She spoke mechanically, as if she hadn’t heard Sally23: “Sally8 returns today. Sally17 arrives tomorrow morning. And Sally18 will be back tomorrow night. It’s essential that we continue providing canisters for them. We must have the deathblow ready for London. The Wallys will take care of that.”

  “Which still leaves the CINTEP agents,” Sally23 said. She struggled to keep the hope out of her voice.

  “You’re right,” Sally2 said. “We can use Brosk to destroy them. In fact, I’ve already implanted nano-explosives in his body.”

  The Wallys gasped.

  Sally23 said, “Nano-explosives are notoriously unstable. They could blow up any time.”

  At least now she knew what the IV drips contained.

  Sally2 said, “The nano-explosives will interface with the nanobots in his system, making him a walking time bomb. We’ll also dress him in linked metallic clothing to maximize the detonation and spread of the virus. I want you to accompany him to Hyde Park and wait for the CINTEP agents to show.”

  “Hyde Park?”

  “There’s a concert scheduled for tomorrow. It will be packed.”

  “If it doesn’t rain.”

  Sally2 waved her arms in dismissal.
“When the agents arrive, you will retreat to a safe distance and detonate the charges in Brosk’s body, killing him and the agents, after which you will disappear into the city. Most likely your cover has been blown, so you can’t return to us and you can’t leave the country. If you like, you can accelerate the progression of the virus in your system with a pill I will provide. Death will be quick and painless.”

  Sally23 stared at Sally2, feeling as if someone had just kicked her in the stomach. So this was how she was supposed to die, blown apart in an explosion alongside Brosk. Sally2 knew, of course, that there would be no escaping the CINTEP agents. She would also be controlling the detonator, only pretending to give that power to Sally23.

  “And one more thing,” Sally2 said. “I understand you may feel some temptation to run. It’s a natural human impulse. But if you run, you’ll just die that much sooner. And without the pill I provide, your death will be painful.

  “Also, Brosk is infected by multiple strains of the virus. And he’s been rigged to explode in less than forty-eight hours. Plus, I programmed him to believe that you were the one who infected him. I tweaked his anger response. So you’ll have to maintain perfect control with the box. If you try to take him with you, you’ll have to give him freedom of movement and he’ll kill you. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.” Sally23 shrugged. She felt like throwing herself at Sally2, gouging out the older woman’s eyes and beating her to death. No. Remember Brosk. Stay in control. “Any more surprises?”

  Sally2 held up a small controller, her thumb on the button. “With this remote detonator, I can blow up Brosk anytime before the explosives in his body reach critical mass.”

  “You’re making another mistake sending us to Hyde Park,” Sally23 said. She found herself thinking rapidly, logically, piecing together the most efficient way to die. “We should change our modus operandi if you want to lure the CINTEP agents in. They’ll know it’s a trap if we go to a park again. Better to head for Heathrow or Gatwick—make it look like we’re trying to get out of the country.”

  “You’d never get past security.”

  “We wouldn’t try. We’d just get close. Or maybe we should try for King’s Cross or Piccadilly—some well-populated area with lots of commuters. I could park Brosk on a bench and wait for the CINTEP agents to approach. When they get near him, I’d trigger the explosion. Of course, I’d probably have to stay with him. An unresponsive man on a bench might draw the police before CINTEP could arrive. But it would be an instantaneous death—no suffering.”

  Sally2 frowned slightly, her nose scrunching up as her eyes turned inward with thought. No doubt she was puzzling out why Sally23 would be so helpful in arranging her own murder. How marvelous the human brain, Sally23 thought, when even a non-enhanced human like me can read the signs of another person thinking. I’ll take you down yet, you bitch.

  “You might be right,” Sally2 finally said. “But you couldn’t even get on the tube with Brosk. Security’s too tight in the underground. Anyway, my controller hasn’t the range to reach that far. It has to be Hyde Park.”

  “Now who doesn’t trust whom? Perhaps Brosk was right. Perhaps you don’t intend to die, if you think that we all want to live so badly.”

  Sally23 stared at Sally2, meeting the taller woman’s eyes with a challenge. She felt no fear in this moment. Death came inevitably. Whether Sally2 killed her now or in Hyde Park, whether Brosk killed her or the virus did, whether she escaped to live another ten or twenty disease-ravaged years, death would eventually catch her. She no longer felt like running from it. Death or life: it made no difference.

  Sally2 turned and walked away, disappearing into Brosk’s room. Sally23 noticed Wally2 studying her. He sat back, his eyes widening slightly before he looked away. The Wallys along the wall continued to stare at her.

  “What?” she asked, flinging out her arms.

  “Nothing.” The Asian Wallys jumped in unison before returning to their tasks, while Wally2 kept his head down as if fascinated by the incoming data stream. Standing beside him, Sally23 suddenly remembered the biometric equipment in Brosk’s room. Sally2 was probably looking over the recorded data from Sally23’s implant, checking her blood pressure, pulse and emotional responses, seeking any sign of deception. Good luck with that, you bitch. I’m serious. I don’t care anymore. We’re all going to die—and especially you. I’ll make sure of that—somehow.

  Chapter 20

  The Spook Hotel, so-called because it was where Britain’s Combined Intelligence Service housed its visitors, struck Zora as an eerie place. Located in the old Scotland Yard building, it gave off an intimidating vibe. Its windows had been replaced with screens showing images of London landmarks like Big Ben, Westminster Bridge and the London Eye. But she knew they were false, like the “windows” on the Moon.

  Last night, while studying the files on mind transference in preparation for Devereaux’s procedure today, she’d heard a couple having loud sex in the room next door. The screaming and moaning had led her to fantasize about Jeremiah, despite her efforts to stay focused on her task. She wanted him to touch her, caress her, pleasure her the way the man next door was doing to his partner. But even the fantasy died as the logical part of her brain told her it would never happen, that Jeremiah was too noble and principled to make love to a woman he deemed a girl.

  She walked into the lobby, having gotten less than an hour of sleep, her neck stiff, and spotted the two Eastern European massage therapists who flirted with her every time she passed. Handsome men with dark hair and tattoos all over their muscular arms, they played cards night and day. As usual, one of them called out to her: “We give good massage. Loosen muscles. You relax.” He spoke in an accent that reminded her of Crazy Vigg, who had given his life on the Moon so that others might live.

  She stopped and shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” They jumped to their feet. “You not regret. We fix you up good.”

  They led her to a small room off the lobby with two massage tables and a screen she disrobed behind. When she emerged wearing only a towel, they gestured to one of the tables—no flirting now. They radiated calm. Music came from hidden speakers, soft and low and probably embedded with subliminal messages of relaxation. Already she felt better. She climbed onto the table and they oiled up their hands. Sliding her towel off, one of them began working her lower body, while the other concentrated on her neck and back. Again she thought of Jeremiah. How would it feel to have his hands on her body?

  Then she thought of Devereaux and felt ashamed. What would it be like to be imprisoned in a robot? Would Devereaux still be himself? The mind-body connection is incredibly strong. How would being separated from his body affect Devereaux’s mind?

  Plus, caution dictated that they copy his mind rather than wipe it and transfer it to the organic computer. That way, if something went wrong, they would still have the original mind of Walt Devereaux so they could try again. And it was an easier procedure—less chance of a cascading system failure. But if they did that, how would Devereaux react to being two different entities, with a consciousness in each? Frankly, the whole thing scared her.

  The masseur working her legs moved up to her rump, causing her to tense.

  “Relax,” he said as he kneaded her muscles. “I not hurt you.”

  But she couldn’t. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t trust him enough. If Jeremiah were doing the massaging, that would be different, but these men—she knew nothing about them.

  “Sorry,” she said. “That’s enough. I have to go.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. Thank you.”

  As she dressed behind the screen, Major Somers’ voice came through her earpiece: “Conference starts in ten minutes.”

  She tipped the masseurs on her way out, then made for the conference room they’d used yesterday. Ned stood inside the door. Curtik and Major Somers were
already there: Curtik on one side of the large table, Major Somers sitting stiffly on the other. Curtik manipulated some sort of plastic assembly with his mechanical hand while Major Somers barely glanced at her.

  Ned gestured to a spot at the head of the table, which she took. On the far wall, holo-projections emerged with the images of Lendra and Dr. Poole sitting in Lendra’s office. Dr. Poole waved to Zora and she waved back. Beside them, in a holo-projection coming from Atlanta, Walt Devereaux lay on an operating table, his head cut open. Zora could see his folded cerebral cortex swelling outside his skull, making his head look lopsided and alien.

  Was he conscious? Was he in pain? It looked like he was sedated. Looming above him, the gigantic and shaggy Quark wore hospital scrubs and a mask, but she could sense the rage in his glare. Three surgeon-technicians stood beside Devereaux, monitoring the machines that kept him alive. In the corner of the room, behind Quark, Zora saw a humanoid robot standing motionless. This was no doubt where they hoped to house Devereaux’s mind. Finally, sitting beside Devereaux and holding his hand was a thin black man Zora didn’t know. He too wore surgical scrubs and a mask. Occasionally he glanced at the camera, his eyes blinking rapidly as he fought back tears.

  Lendra engaged the audio connection from her end and said, “That’s Doug Robinson.” Her voice sounded slightly husky, as if she were having difficulty controlling her emotions. “He’s Devereaux’s communications liaison.”

  “And our friend,” Quark added.

  Zora nodded to him and he lifted a tentative hand, the other still firmly gripping Devereaux’s.

  In a third holo-projection space beside Devereaux, the Cambridge University team of scientists huddled together, perusing each other’s tablets and whispering urgently, ignoring the holo-projection cameras. A fourth holo-projection showed an image of a cave, from which Quekri, Zeriphi, Dr. Wellon and Aspen looked out at the cameras with tight smiles. Zora waved to Aspen, knowing it would be sixteen minutes before the image arrived on Mars.