“Does that mean we have your permission for this trip?” Aspen said.
“It does not,” Quekri said. “And I’m transmitting everything back to Earth so the Chinese will know this is nothing more than six teenagers on a joyride and not some conspiracy on our part to interfere with their mission.”
Aspen tried to open the hatch, then realized that the computerized controls for that function had also been damaged by the laser strike. “Benn,” she said. “We have to open the hatch manually.”
Benn unstrapped himself, got to his feet and unlocked the door, then pulled it inside the shuttle and secured it to the wall, out of the way. Aspen joined him. After studying the hatch on the Chinese vessel, Aspen lifted a small cover and found a button with a Chinese character on it. Her implant translated the character for her—open.
“Here goes,” Aspen said.
She hit the button.
A green light came on and the hatch door swung inward.
“Well,” Addam said, “only one direction to go now.”
Aspen touched the Las-pistol strapped to her thigh and stepped through the hatch into a small room—an airlock—followed by the others. As they studied the doorway into the ship proper, the hatch sealed behind them. They heard a rush of air, then the door to the vessel opened.
On the other side, in the dim lighting of a long, curving passage about ten feet tall stood a Chinese woman wearing a dark shirt and pants, with black hair down to her shoulders. She held herself still. Aspen could barely make out her face—just the glow of her eyes and the slight glint of white teeth.
She startled Aspen when she spoke in English:
“You should not have come.” Her voice sounded husky—her enunciation precise. “Death awaits you.”
Aspen felt a chill run down her back.
Benn said, “Hey, how come you speak English and not Chinese?”
The woman said, “We’ve been monitoring your transmissions. We heard you speaking in English, so I chose that language. Would you prefer me to speak Chinese, French, Spanish, Russian—”
“No,” Aspen interrupted her. “English is fine.” She looked down the dark, curving corridor they were standing in but saw no one in either direction. “Are you alone? Where is everyone?”
“The humans are either dead or dying,” the woman replied.
“The humans?” Benn said.
Quekri’s voice came through the comm unit: “That’s not a woman. That’s—”
Suddenly her voice cut out.
“What happened to that transmission?” Shiloh asked.
“I’m guessing she cut it off,” Addam said.
“It’s a robot,” Phan said. “It looks like a fourth generation Wong-Tech—humanoid appearance. But it’s so much more advanced. I’d swear it’s human.”
“Are you a robot?” Aspen asked.
“Yes,” the robot replied.
Phan stepped forward to study the robot, which stood motionless. From what Aspen could see, the machine looked like a real woman, with dark eyes and “skin” that had a healthy glow. She looked much more advanced than the model that housed Devereaux’s mind back on Earth, though that robot, Aspen knew, contained an extremely sophisticated organic computer capable of holding Devereaux’s mind, probably far more advanced than whatever sort of computer brain this model had.
Phan said, “This is incredibly advanced technology. They probably didn’t want us to know about it.”
“Is that why you didn’t answer our hails?” Shiloh asked. “We’ve been trying to contact you for ages.”
“We have specific orders to maintain communications silence,” the robot said.
“Is that because you’re classified technology?” Aspen asked.
“We were not allowed to communicate with you for operational reasons.”
“What operational reasons?”
“Military operational reasons,” the robot replied. “You are a hostile and dangerous subspecies.”
Benn drew his Las-pistol and pointed it at the robot, but it apparently didn’t notice. It continued to smile reassuringly.
“Put that away,” Aspen said to Benn as she held up a hand. “Are you planning to attack the Mars colony?”
“No,” the robot replied.
“Then what are the military operational reasons for keeping communications silence?”
“Some on board believe you will try to take command of our ship. Apparently they were correct, for here you are.”
“We’re not planning to take over your ship.”
The robot turned to face Benn. “You’re holding a weapon on me.”
Aspen said, “I told you to put that away.”
Benn said, “This robot told us death awaits us. That’s hardly a friendly greeting. I don’t trust it.”
Addam took a step forward, drawing everyone’s attention. “Are you in charge?” he asked the robot.
“Good question,” Aspen said.
“I am one of the units currently in command of this vessel,” the robot replied. “No humans remain able to function in that capacity.”
“Where are the humans?” Aspen asked. “Will you take us to them?”
“The living humans have been confined to stasis fields,” the robot said. “They’re dying. As you are now.”
“Hm,” Benn said as he lifted his Las-pistol and pointed it at the robot’s head. “Seems to me like you’re the only one in danger of being killed at the moment.”
“You may fire,” the robot said. “That won’t alter your destiny.”
“Which is?” Kammilee asked.
“You must be quarantined until you die. Returning to your people would only bring death to them.”
“We’re isolated in these self-contained suits,” Aspen said. “The virus has no way of getting inside. So as long as we properly decontaminate the suits upon our return, the virus won’t have a chance to infect the colony.”
“I’m afraid we cannot allow you to take that chance,” the robot said.
“It’s not your decision to make,” Aspen said.
“Actually, it is. The moment you chose to board this vessel, despite our warnings, you surrendered any choice in your future.”
Benn fired his Las-pistol, a long red burst that super-heated the robot’s head, setting its hair on fire and melting its face, disfiguring the pseudo-skin until the robot looked like something out of a horror vid, its eyes blackened and its mouth twisted into a psychotic leer. The robot went still.
“What’d you—” Phan sputtered. “Why’d you do that?”
“Stupid machine,” Benn said. “Didn’t even try to defend itself.”
Then—unbelievably— the robot slowly turned and walked away, only the slightest hesitation in its step.
“What the hell?” Benn asked as he raised his Las-pistol.
“Don’t,” Aspen said as she pushed his hand down.
“The robot’s brain isn’t stored in its head,” Phan said. “It was designed that way to protect against what just happened. These things are amazing!”
“I think it’s time we leave,” Aspen said.
“Too late,” Kammilee said, pointing down the hallway. “Behind you. More robots.”
Aspen turned. Sure enough, a handful of robots approached. They looked like quintuplets—all female, with only small differences in their facial features—though Aspen could tell they were robots because they moved in perfect synchronicity. Each carried a Las-pistol.
Take ’em out, Benn sent through his implant as he dove to the side, firing a continuous red pulse at the robots. He hit two, but the robots fired back. Addam, Shiloh, Phan and Kammilee all dove to the floor, firing red pulses at the robots, who dodged into nooks she hadn’t seen. Aspen realized she hadn’t moved. Also, the robots had fired blue pulses, so they weren’t in
tending to kill them.
Hold your fire, Aspen sent as a laser pulse struck her in the stomach. She fell to the floor, feeling like her gut was on fire. Glancing down, she saw that a small hole had been burned in the center of her Mars suit, leaving her exposed to the atmosphere of the ship. Probably the only reason she was still conscious was because much of the energy from the robots’ lasers had diffused across her Mars suit.
Benn lay still, a gaping tear in his Mars suit. Down the hallway behind them, Aspen noticed half a dozen more robots closing in.
Hold your fire, she sent again as she got to her feet.
Robots came at them from both directions, Las-pistols aimed at the cadets. As they approached they held out their hands. Aspen handed over her Las-pistol and the other cadets followed suit, except for Benn, who lay unconscious on the floor. Kammilee knelt beside Benn but, because she was trapped inside her suit, she could do little for him.
Every robot looked female in appearance, with only minor differences among them. One robot walked over to Aspen and said, “You shouldn’t have made us hurt you. I’m afraid that will only accelerate your deaths.”
Addam stepped over to Aspen’s side and said, “You going to kill us now?”
“No,” the robot replied. “Of course not. We mean you no harm. If you wish, we can treat your companion in our medical bay, but he will die soon, just like you.”
Chapter 30
Lendra Riley tried not to think about Sophie, lying in the infirmary, feverish and in pain, her tiny body connected to an AutoLife machine. The doctors had finally found the cause of the staph infection: the Susquehanna Virus, floating around in her corneal fluid. Somehow she had become infected and it had bypassed her immune system. Had Manyara done it? Lendra couldn’t recall a specific time when Manyara had been alone with Sophie, but it could have happened. And now the doctors said she might never recover. The only blessing was that Sophie was in a coma.
Enough, she told herself. Get a grip. Stop making yourself crazy. She contacted Dr. Poole via her interface.
“What kind of progress have you made with the Blantons?”
“The information apparently wasn’t deeply seated in the amygdala,” Dr. Poole said, “so I’m having trouble extracting it despite the hypnotic state and the drugs.”
“Well, a drone sub just recovered Manyara’s body. According to what she told Jeremiah, we have less than three hours until the virus is released.”
“Right. So unless we get the information from the Blantons quickly, we might not be able to stop it in time.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” Lendra said.”
“I will.”
Lendra turned to Jay-Edgar. “How long until Jeremiah gets back?”
“Ten minutes. And the President is calling.”
“Put her through.”
Via holo-projection, President Angelica Hope appeared before her, dark bags under her eyes. “Give me an update,” she said, her contralto voice sounding more hoarse than usual. Like Lendra, she probably hadn’t slept in over a day.
“We managed to track down Manyara Harris but, unfortunately, she killed herself during our attempt to capture her. We believe we have three hours left until her new strain of the virus is released. We still haven’t found her lab, but we’re hoping to have that information soon.”
“Have you been able to confirm that this new strain is more potent than previous incarnations?”
“Not yet. However, we’ve asked Professor Devereaux to help once we locate it. He might be able to discover some sort of antidote or vaccine in case we can’t stop the virus’ release. We’ve also got a Sally flying in from London with a CINTEP team. Professor Devereaux has already created a partial vaccine for her. It won’t cure her completely, but it should keep her alive for a while, perhaps long enough for her to give us whatever insights she can regarding the virus.”
President Hope tapped her fingernails on the desk in front of her. “And if we don’t find the virus before it’s released? How big a disaster are we looking at?”
Lendra shrugged. “We don’t have enough details on its genetic structure.”
“Then you’d best stop it before it’s released, Ms. Riley.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After disconnecting, she sat at her desk for a moment. Was there anything she could do, or would she be better served visiting Sophie?
Jay-Edgar interrupted her thoughts: “Eli says he has more background information on Manyara and voodoo.”
“Anything of pressing value?”
“No, just general information.”
“Archive it for me, please.”
“What’s going to happen to him?” Jay-Edgar asked. “And me?”
“He’ll be in prison for the rest of his life. He may be used for his knowledge at times like this, but otherwise I imagine he’ll be kept in the dark about the world around him. That will be his greatest punishment.”
“And me?”
“I don’t know,” Lendra said. She wanted him to think he might escape unscathed, so she didn’t tell him the truth. If she could replace him, she would, but he was so damned insightful as to what she needed that she couldn’t spare him just now. When this crisis was over she would train a replacement. “I’ll do what I can for you.”
Jay-Edgar nodded. “I understand. Jeremiah’s back. Should I send him to interrogation room one?”
“Yes,” Lendra replied. “I’ll be there as well.”
She stepped out into the hall, looked left toward the infirmary, wishing Eli were still in charge of CINTEP so she could visit Sophie, hold her daughter, sing to her like Jeremiah had—the hell with the world. What had it ever done for her? Then she took a couple of deep breaths and turned right toward interrogation room one. She waited only a moment outside the door before Jeremiah and Hannah emerged from the stairway to the roof, the two Elite Ops troopers crowding along behind them.
She hoped Jeremiah would give her another hug, but when he reached her, he just said, “Sophie?”
“She’s on an AutoLife machine,” Lendra replied. “They found traces of the virus. I think Manyara infected her.”
Jeremiah went still. He stared past her toward the infirmary, but she couldn’t read his expression. He might have been a statue. She knew this was how he reacted to intense pain. He became cold and unemotional, detaching himself from the source until he could process it and conquer it. But how did you conquer the death of your child?
“Go,” Jeremiah finally said. “Please wait in your office with Gil, Finn and Hannah.” Jeremiah entered interrogation room one, pulling the door shut behind him. It locked with a loud click.
Hannah sighed. “He said he had a plan, but he wouldn’t tell us what it was. You think he’ll kill the Blantons?”
“I don’t know,” Lendra said, leading the way back to her office. They all stepped inside, Gil and Finn removing their helmets. Jay-Edgar already had the footage of interrogation room one on the screen. The Blantons sat beside each other staring blankly ahead, their mouths slack, both of them hooked up to AutoLife machines, though they appeared to still be breathing on their own. Dr. Poole had probably hooked them up as a precaution. They looked much as they had before, two attractive people, wearing CINTEP coveralls, though they were both sweating. It couldn’t be just the bright lights, for Dr. Poole looked relatively comfortable.
“We’re hooked in,” Jay-Edgar said. “They can hear and see us.”
“Anything yet?” Jeremiah asked Dr. Poole.
She shook her head. “No luck retrieving the information. I had to be a little aggressive with the drugs. I’m afraid they may need life support if I try to do more. Frankly, I’m out of ideas.”
“Get me three sensory helmets,” Jeremiah said as he took a seat in front of Rebecca and strapped himself in, “one for each of us.”
“N
o, Jeremiah,” Lendra said. “You can’t do that. It’s not compatible with your transgenic modifications.”
“We don’t have any choice,” Jeremiah said.
“What is he planning?” Hannah asked.
“Linking up with the Blantons,” Jay-Edgar replied, “like Ned did with Hector.”
“They could die at any moment,” Dr. Poole said. “Their minds are not rational.”
“With the drugs they’re on,” Lendra said, “you could be severely brain damaged.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Jeremiah asked.
“Let someone else link with them.”
“I’ll do it,” Hannah said.
“Or me,” Finn said. “Gil and I are used to linking with the Elite Ops.”
“That’s a good idea,” Lendra said.
“No,” Jeremiah said. “It’s too dangerous. And it requires a feather touch. Besides, this is my job.”
“Not anymore,” Lendra said. “You’re retired.”
“I can’t let anyone else take this risk. Get the helmets.”
Dr. Poole grabbed three helmets from a shelf and placed two of them atop the Blantons’ heads. She handed the third one to Jeremiah.
“Full linkage,” Jeremiah said as he put the helmet on.
Dr. Poole looked at the camera pickup and said, “That is extremely dangerous at the best of times. Ned was only eighty percent linked. Full linkage might kill you. You would be absorbed into their minds, and with all the drugs in their systems, you might never be able to escape. And just the act of linking with them could send them into cardiac arrest. If they die while you’re linked to them, you could die too.”
“Jeremiah,” Lendra said. “You can’t. Dr. Poole, I’m refusing to allow a full linkage.”
Jeremiah said, “We only get one shot at this. If they die, we’re done. If we fail because we didn’t go deep enough, we won’t be able to do it again. Right?”
Dr. Poole turned back to Jeremiah. “That’s true. They may not survive the procedure given the state they’re in, and their minds would certainly be contaminated by the link, so even if they live, the odds of connecting successfully a second time are extremely slim.” She again looked up at the camera pickup. “It’s your call.”
The Susquehanna Virus Box Set Page 119