The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  “I’ll be running the drones,” said Jeremiah. “Plus Dr. Poole and I will prep for the interrogation, making sure the drug combos are perfect.”

  Lendra said, “A jet-copter’s on the roof, ready to go. Your disguises are inside—the same as before.”

  Curtik headed for the door. Hannah reached it first. But Zora hung back.

  “Coming?” Curtik said.

  Zora frowned. “I still have concerns. Fowler is paranoid. He’s undoubtedly got some sort of defense we haven’t found. Probably some cutting edge tech from White Knight Security.”

  “If we get in and out like we planned, we won’t have to deal with the Elite Ops,” Curtik said.

  “Still, White Knight bought all Carlton Security’s assets and now possesses all Carlton’s secrets. They could have a secret communication method we don’t know about. And don’t forget Richard Carlton was working on some pretty nasty stuff, including mind control.”

  “Fear not,” said Curtik. “We have God on our side.” He laughed at the absurdity of it. Do we really have God on our side? And even if we do, would he save us?

  Zora shook her head, but she followed him and Hannah out the door.

  An hour later, the jet-copter in silent mode, their neo-skin masks in place, they landed a mile away from Fowler’s compound in a clearing inside a wooded tract. When the jet-copter door opened, Ned Jefferson stood outside, a short, slim black man with a fringe of white hair around the ears. He looked as far from a secret agent as you could get, except that he wore an interface like Zora and Hannah, and carried a Las-pistol in his right hand.

  “Neddy!” Curtik said.

  “Curtik.” Ned smiled, though there was sadness behind it, and Curtik recalled that Ned had fond memories of working with Julianna. Seeing her neo-skin face on Curtik’s body probably brought all that back. “Zora.” Ned placed his left hand on Zora’s shoulder and nodded to Hannah. “Hannah. Good to see you all. We go in on foot. The jet-copter will pick us up when we’ve got Fowler.”

  “Do we know our sensory readings are accurate? They might have more security personnel than we’re seeing,” Hannah said as they began to jog toward Fowler’s mansion.

  “We’re pretty sure it’s just fourteen,” Zora replied. “We haven’t seen any indicators of heavier traffic to this location.”

  “Might there be others who don’t show up on the scanners or the infrared vids?”

  “You think they might be using scatterers?” Ned asked.

  “It seems likely,” Hannah replied, “given his mindset and the fact that Zora and Curtik broke into his office last week.”

  Curtik flexed his mechanical hand, its strength comforting him. He looked up. Several drones hovered above them for a moment, then jetted off. “He’ll be on alert, but I don’t think he’s gonna have an army on site. He’ll assume that if there’s an attack, he can get reinforcements here quickly. I’m sure Jay-Edgar and Devereaux can keep him from communicating with the Elite Ops, at least for as long as we’re inside.”

  Footage of Fowler’s compound streamed through Curtik’s implant, the main house well lit, the brick wall ten feet high, eight security guards patrolling the grounds with weapons Curtik hadn’t seen before. They looked like a cross between Las-pistols and stun clubs.

  “What are those?” Curtik asked.

  “I think they’re Infernos,” said Zora.

  “What’s an Inferno?”

  “You never pay attention. A combination microwave weapon and Las-pistol. Scott Wilson from White Knight Security claims that they won’t harm you. They only make you feel like you’re on fire. Devereaux thinks he’s lying. Shields might help, but Jeremiah believes White Knight’s new models can penetrate shields to a point. Not that it matters, since we don’t have shields.”

  “Then I guess we shouldn’t get hit,” Curtik said. “We taking out all the guards before going inside?”

  “That’s the plan,” Ned replied. “And Jeremiah will handle all the defensive drones on site.”

  “Only two guards for each of us?” Curtik asked. “Can I have one of yours, Hannah? Neddy?”

  Ned laughed. “You can have mine. I’ll back you up.”

  “Thanks, Neddy.”

  Curtik ran faster, eager to reach the compound. He unholstered his Las-pistol and checked the setting: high stun. Perfect. There was still nothing like authorized violence to make him feel alive.

  Chapter 21

  Zora worried that Curtik was taking this all too lightly. These security guards, although not Elite Ops troopers, were still dangerous—all ex-military, a few ex-Special Forces. It would take a rapid strike to immobilize them before they could plan a counter attack. And lethal force had been ruled out. Not that she wanted to kill them, but it would have made planning the assault easier.

  As they came upon Fowler’s place, Jeremiah said, “Curtik left, Zora right, Ned and Hannah straight ahead. I’m blowing the gate and cutting power to the compound in five seconds.”

  A drone whistled by Zora’s ear. She confirmed the location of the eight guards via her interface as a pop sounded, no louder than a firecracker. The gate fell backwards to the ground. Rushing inside, she darted right, Las-pistol in hand, her interface night vision feature allowing her to see as if it were daytime, but the eight guards had vanished from her interface.

  “Dampening field,” Ned called out. “All internal communications just went offline.”

  “Well, that’s not ideal,” said Curtik.

  The yard looked as if it had been manicured by a grounds crew, though Fowler may have achieved that look through hybrid grass. Two security guards ran toward her, wearing night vision goggles, their Infernos firing red pulses. One of the lethal pulses brushed Zora’s shoulder, burning her as she dove left and fired twice. The two men dropped as the pain in her shoulder intensified. Another two guards fired at Hannah and Ned from behind a low wall while two others ran toward Curtik. One carried a dark tube.

  Zora’s combat suit dispersed an anesthetic to her shoulder, deadening the pain to a degree, though it still hurt. She yelled: “Avoid the Infernos at all costs.”

  “Whoa,” Curtik yelled. “Is that a particle beam cannon?”

  The guard carrying the tube fired as Curtik dove to his right and sent out a purple laser pulse. The wall behind Curtik exploded. Ned and Hannah both fired at the second guard, felling him.

  “Yup,” Curtik said, “that’s a particle beam cannon.”

  “You okay?” Ned asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Zora?”

  “I’m okay. Took an Inferno hit in the shoulder.”

  More red pulses came from behind the low wall in front of the mansion.

  “Grab the cannon,” Ned shouted as he and Hannah directed long purple pulses at the guards behind the wall. “Fire at their position,” Ned added.

  Zora got to her feet, her right shoulder hurting worse, feeling like it was on fire. Sprinting toward the house, she weaved as she ran, switching the Las-pistol to her left hand, her eyes scanning left, right and up. A guard stood atop the roof, lining up Curtik with a Las-rifle. Zora fired again, center mass. He fell forward, toppling off the roof and plunging to the ground. Had he been one of the guards on her interface scanner before the attack?

  “Ned?” she called. “Hannah? Curtik? We got at least one more hostile somewhere outside. Any ideas?”

  Curtik reached the particle beam cannon, picked it up and fired at the low wall where the opposition had taken shelter. It too exploded, knocking a large hole in the house adjacent to the door.

  “Sweet,” Curtik said, “that’s a helluva kick.”

  The two guards, now exposed, fired at Curtik. Ned and Hannah took them out as Zora reached the house.

  “Hang on,” Curtik called as he ran toward her. “I’ll bring this tasty little thing along. Might need
to open a door.”

  “We’ll find the last one,” Ned promised as Zora and Curtik ducked down and entered the house through the jagged hole.

  They saw no one inside. Curtik went left, Zora right. The main room had a twenty-foot ceiling. A vast staircase led up to the second floor.

  “Six guards remaining,” Curtik called out.

  “Panic room is upstairs,” Zora said.

  “Panic room?”

  “Did you pay attention at all?”

  “Where is it?”

  “Left at the top of the stairs, end of the hall, far side of the master bedroom.”

  Curtik grinned. “Up and away I go.”

  He sprinted up the steps, taking them two at a time, while Zora put her back to the wall and edged around the room. A scraping noise came from behind a door eight feet in front of her. She stopped moving, crouched down and waited, trying to ignore the pain in her shoulder. At least with the dampening field activated, the house’s defenders would be hampered too. They’d have to rely on their vision and hearing.

  Curtik topped the stairs, particle beam cannon in his mechanical right hand, Las-pistol in his left, and ran down the hallway, apparently unconcerned that there might be an ambush or booby trap waiting.

  Zora let him go. She made no sound, no movement, becoming a statue.

  From above came the sizzle of Las-pistols, then a boom that sounded like a grenade going off, followed by more Las-pistol sizzles. From outside she heard what sounded like a jet-copter approaching. Good. That meant Ned and Hannah had stunned the last guard and stepped outside the dampening field of the grounds to summon their ride.

  Zora focused on the door.

  Three men charged out, dispersing right, left toward her, and up the stairs.

  As the nearest man spotted her, Zora took him out, then felled the man running right, saving the ascending guard for last. He too collapsed under a laser pulse. How many remained? Did Curtik have multiple defenders upstairs? Caution dictated that she wait for Curtik to bring Fowler out. But what if he was in trouble? She heard nothing.

  She pulled a pair of stun grenades from her pockets and tossed one to the far side of the room. Its concussion wave almost knocked her out. She tossed the next one through the door out which the men had run. After it exploded, she ran for the stairs, reaching for a third grenade.

  She threw it down the hall to the right as she turned left. It exploded as she reached Fowler’s bedroom. She took the opportunity to rush inside, saw a massive shape coming at her and managed to hold her fire when she realized it was Curtik, supporting an unconscious Fowler, dressed in silk pajamas.

  “Two guards down in the bedroom,” Curtik said. “One down in the panic room.”

  “I took out three downstairs,” Zora replied. She helped take Fowler’s weight as they scurried down the hall. The man was soft but heavy, decadent wealth giving him a robustness she found repulsive. His face looked like it had been hit by a concussive blast, perhaps from the particle beam cannon destroying the door to the panic room.

  “Trying to one-up me?” Curtik asked as they descended the stairs.

  “One-up? I took out three. You took out three. I think your math needs a little work. And actually, I was trying to tell you that we might have gotten all of them. But stay sharp.”

  “Gotcha.”

  When they reached the ground floor, they dragged Fowler toward the jagged hole to the outside. A scraping sound came from their left. Curtik released Fowler, spun and fired the particle beam cannon with his mechanical hand. Zora took Fowler’s weight and glanced over. A robot stood in the doorway, its top half blown apart.

  “Was it carrying a weapon?” Zora asked.

  “Don’t know,” Curtik replied as he lifted Fowler again. “Didn’t wait to find out.”

  They ran out of the house, dragging Fowler to the jet-copter that sat on the grounds. Ned and Hannah waited beside it, Hannah carrying one of the Infernos.

  In less than a minute they were on their way, Fowler slumped on the floor. Ned reached into a pack and began rummaging around.

  As they cleared the estate, the dampening field faded and Jeremiah’s voice came through. “Status?”

  “We’re fine,” Zora and Hannah replied together. Hannah gestured for Zora to continue as Ned retrieved a QuikHeal bandage from the pack and put it on Zora’s shoulder where the combat suit had been burned away. Her shoulder looked black where the Inferno’s pulse had struck it. Zora nodded her thanks.

  “We have Fowler,” Zora said. “He’s unconscious. Guards are down. No one sustained serious injuries. Ned’s with us. Curtik captured a particle beam cannon and Hannah has one of their new model Infernos.”

  Hannah added, “Zora was hit in the shoulder with an Inferno—a combo microwave and Las-rifle pulse. It’s pretty bad.”

  “Zora?” Jeremiah asked.

  “It only burns a little,” Zora answered, pleased that Jeremiah was concerned for her well-being. “Ned put a QuikHeal bandage on me.”

  “We’ll have medical standing by. What about Fowler?”

  Curtik nudged Fowler with his foot and Fowler moaned, his hands and feet moving slightly.

  “Come on, Fat Boy,” Curtik said. “Wake up. I think he’s comin’ around.”

  “Did you search him?” Jeremiah asked.

  “He’s in his PJs,” Curtik said.

  “He’s paranoid,” Jeremiah said. “He might have a weapon on him.”

  As Curtik searched Fowler, Zora noticed blood on the back of his left hand.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, gesturing toward his hand.

  “Bastard scratched me,” Curtik said, “and in pure reflex, kinda accidentally, I mighta punched him seven or eight times.”

  Curtik flexed his mechanical right hand, glinting in the night. As Fowler raised his head, Curtik punched him again. Fowler’s head fell back to the jet-copter’s floor.

  “Whoops,” Curtik said. “Sorry about that. My hand slipped. By the way, he’s clean. No weapons.”

  Chapter 22

  Aspen sat up in bed. Beside her, Addam slept. She’d heard or felt something. Poking Addam, she accessed her implant, got to her feet and opened the door. The hallway was empty. Her implant detected no unusual activity, but it registered what looked like a spike in internal communications—messages sent via implant. Yet there was no record in the general database.

  “What is it?” Addam asked.

  “Something’s happening.” Aspen sent pings to Benn, Kammilee, Phan and Shiloh, instructing them to get to her cabin immediately.

  Addam stared into the distance for a moment, accessing his implant. “How do you know? There’s no sign of a problem. Plus, it’s two in the morning ship-time.”

  “That’s when the Chescala will move,” Aspen replied, sending the message out via her implant as well so the other cadets could follow the conversation. “Middle of the night. Xinliu and Mei-Xing are probably both recharging.”

  “But there’d be some kind of warning, some sort of ruckus. Have you tried contacting the Chescala?”

  “No, but I pinged Xinliu and Mei-Xing and got nothing back. And if we try to contact the Chescala, they might figure out that we’re on to them.”

  “I still don’t see how they can beat the robots.”

  “We don’t know all the details of how the Chescala were planning to reprogram them. They might have installed backdoors to allow them to put the robots to sleep or freeze their motor skills. Perhaps one command can shut them all down.”

  “That seems unlikely,” Addam said as the other cadets entered the cabin.

  “But it’s possible,” said Phan. “If I’d been the one programming them, I’d have installed a backdoor as a safety mechanism, something I could access in case there were problems. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let the robots know I’d don
e it.”

  “So what do we do?” Benn asked. “And how do you know it’s happening now?”

  “It’s just a feeling,” Aspen replied. “I set my implant to alert me if signal traffic on any network showed a spike. I woke up, checked my implant and found nothing, but the alert activated.”

  “It could be a glitch,” said Kammilee.

  “Possibly, but we need to check it out.” Aspen turned to Phan. “You and Kammilee head to the lab. See if you can find anything, any way into the robots’ systems. The rest of us will head for the armory. If I’m right, that’s where the Chescala will be.”

  “Meaning they’ll be armed,” Addam said.

  “Most likely. But they were built for Mars, not a spaceship. They’re big and strong, but we’re faster and we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves.”

  “Such as?” Shiloh asked.

  “The ship, for one,” said Aspen. “It has a mind of its own. It won’t want to head for Mars. It wants to stay out here in space. It’ll help us. Won’t you?” Aspen patted the wall and felt a small vibration. “And I took the liberty of fashioning a shield yesterday. The robots didn’t stop me. It has no offensive capabilities and I couldn’t test it, but it might protect the wearer from a Las-weapon attack, provided it doesn’t have to absorb too many blasts.”

  They all looked at each other, knowing whoever wore the shield would be sent in first, put in the most danger. Aspen saw the hesitation on each face. How different they had become since their days on the Moon, when any one of them would have killed to be first into battle.

  “I figured to go in alone,” Aspen said as she reached for the shield, disguised as a small broach, “pretending I can’t sleep. The rest of you will hide around the curve. I’ll keep the shield off until the last possible moment. I’ll signal my attack and you back me up as quickly as you can. The ship can cut the lighting so we’re fighting in the dark. We’ll be expecting it, so that should give us a small edge. And hopefully, they’ll only leave one or two guards at the armory, giving us a decent shot at taking control of it.”