The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  “Amazing,” Hannah said.

  “He looks the same to me,” Ned offered. “Ugly.”

  Jeremiah laughed. “I suspect you suffer from an inferiority complex, having to live in my shadow all these years.”

  Dr. Poole gestured to the scanner. “According to this, you’re about to crash. We need to complete the treatment now.”

  “Okay,” Jeremiah said, “let’s go.”

  He strode out the door, single-minded. Taditha lowered the scanner, looked at Lendra for a second and then followed him. Lendra got the sense that the doctor had wanted to say something, but she had no idea what it was.

  “Incoming message from the President,” Devereaux said as the comm board chimed.

  Finally.

  Hannah reached over and opened the connection as Ned stepped out of range of the cameras. A holo-projection of President Hope appeared. “Ms. Riley,” she said. “Professor Devereaux. Where is Dr. Poole?”

  “She’s in the operating room with Jeremiah,” Lendra replied. “Thanks for getting back to me.”

  “What’s this about Dirk Hathaway, Scott Wilson, Walter Tompkins and Anderlin Everest? And what’s happened to Edwin Fowler? Did you take him?”

  She realized she had to tell the President the truth, partly because she deserved to know and partly to ascertain whether the President was involved in any way. “There’s a conspiracy, Madam President, to infect the population with a modified strain of the Susquehanna Virus. They’re all involved in it. We’ve got Fowler here now and he’s told us the truth about it. We need to go after the other conspirators.”

  President Hope’s eyes narrowed. Her jaw clenched. She said, “I thought we agreed to shut down Operations.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It wasn’t a CINTEP operation. Jeremiah and Devereaux have been working on this for a while now. Jeremiah set it up. And he’s been retired for a year.”

  “But you assisted or at least condoned the mission.”

  “These men are planning to infect us with the virus.”

  “I’m aware of that,” President Hope replied.

  Lendra gasped. She turned to Devereaux, who raised an eyebrow, which might have been a sign of his surprise, though she couldn’t be sure given that he had the ability to control his robotic body completely. Hannah, out of view of the cameras, startled, but Ned grabbed her arm and shook his head, calm as ever.

  “It’s being done for a good reason, Ms. Riley. The virus continues to spread. Eventually, we will all become infected with one of the lethal strains.”

  “So,” Devereaux said, “you plan to preempt that by infecting the population with what we believe are nonlethal variants in an effort to enable the body’s immune system, ensuring that people will be better able to fight off the deadlier strains when the virus attacks.”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “Who came up with this plan?” Devereaux asked.

  “Dr. Jaidev. I also discussed it with Hathaway, Fowler, Wilson, Tompkins and Everest. We all agreed it was the best way to save humanity.”

  “How do you know they told you the truth?” Devereaux asked.

  “I’m not an idiot, Professor. I’ve had their work verified by people I trust. The strains of the virus they’re working on are all nonlethal. Why? Does your research show something different?”

  “No, the strains seem to be nonlethal. However, they also carry encoded information that changes human behavior—makes people more subject to suggestion, more impulsive and more addictive.”

  President Hope nodded. “An unfortunate side effect. The scientists working on this have been unable to create versions that don’t incorporate those elements. It’s not for lack of trying, but this is a particularly nasty virus and there are only so many permutations that are nonlethal, that activate the immune system to protect against the deadly strains and at the same time are capable of being widely transmitted.”

  Devereaux went still for a moment, which he did whenever he was contemplating difficult problems. Was it possible he and Jeremiah had been wrong? Was this vast conspiracy nothing more than an attempt to save humanity?

  Lendra said, “Why didn’t you tell us about this, Madam President?”

  “I need to explain myself to you?”

  “It’s just that we’ve been working on the virus for a while now and it would have been helpful to know this.”

  “Your job is to find all traces of the lethal versions and rid the world of them.”

  “Which we cannot do if we don’t have an Operations department.”

  “If you had an Operations department you would likely have gone after Hathaway and the others. You might have brought all this out into the open. We can’t have that. This must be kept secret from the American people and from the world. They wouldn’t understand. They’d accuse us of what you’ve just accused us of—and in a way they’d be right. But we’re doing this for their own good. I want you to release Fowler and I want you to cease all operations going forward. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lendra replied.

  “And I don’t want you or Jeremiah or anyone else going after Hathaway, Wilson, Tompkins or Everest either. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  President Hope’s face softened. “I suppose this might all have been avoided if you had been told the truth, but we determined it was best to keep this information to ourselves for the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, now that you know, you will keep this to yourselves, understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Professor Devereaux?”

  Devereaux stirred. “Yes, Madam President. I understand.”

  Lendra said, “May I tell Dr. Poole? It might help her in the search for the remnants of the virus.”

  President Hope sighed. “I don’t see how, but I suppose, since you know, she should too. And Professor?”

  “Yes?”

  “I thank you for all your work on the virus. Without your research, we wouldn’t have been able to create these new strains. Your work will save millions, maybe billions. But unfortunately I can’t save you. There are too many people who want you shut down. I can delay for a little while—a day at the most—but if I veto the legislation, Congress will override it. Since this has been designated emergency legislation under the Bartt-Simpson law, I now have less than twenty-four hours to decide whether to issue the veto. If I do, I will lose considerable political influence.”

  “I understand.”

  “You won’t try to run, to escape.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I didn’t think so. I’m sorry, Professor. Hopefully this will just be a temporary shutdown. I know that doesn’t make it right, but my hands are tied.”

  The President signed off. Devereaux stood quietly, a faint hum emanating from him. Was that his power pack or was he actually humming?

  “What are we going to do?” Hannah asked.

  “Release Fowler,” Lendra replied. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

  “We’ll take him home,” Ned offered, tugging on Hannah’s sleeve, “as soon as Dr. Poole makes sure he’s fit to travel. We want to make certain he’s completely recovered from the truth drugs. In fact, I’d better go check on him now.”

  “Thank you,” Lendra said as they headed for the door.

  Devereaux turned toward the door as well. “I’d better get my things in order too,” he said. “Tell Jeremiah I wish him the best of luck.”

  “Professor?” Lendra said, not knowing what to say—wanting to tell him to run or hide or fight or do something other than accept this harsh sentence. And yet she knew he would succumb to the will of the nation’s leaders. He would die again to satisfy their primitive urges. Just as he’d allowed them to put him into a robotic shell, he’d allow them to take it away.

  He turned and smiled. “I’ve
wondered about this God hacker. I just might find out if it really is God.”

  He walked out the door, leaving her alone. Always alone. She thought of Sophie and decided to have a picnic lunch with her on the roof patio. If the world was going to fall apart and her hands were going to be tied, she might as well try to enjoy herself.

  Chapter 29

  After sealing the door behind her, Aspen slung the Las-rifle to her back, wincing at the movement, and looked around the charging room. Xinliu and Mei-Xing stood beside each other, backs against the wall, eyes closed. A dozen others stood lined up adjacent to them, looking like statues of Chinese women. She felt like an invader, like she was intruding on their privacy, and she wondered briefly if they possessed the human desire to keep certain things to themselves.

  Phan said, “We’ll try programming in commands to wake them up and if that doesn’t work, we’ll see if we can reverse the emergency sleep commands that were sent to them earlier.”

  “Good.”

  Shiloh and Phan set to work while Aspen moved to the back wall of the charging station and looked for an opening to the engine room. She put her ear to the wall and thought she detected movement on the other side though whether that was the natural sound of the engines or a group of Chescala, she couldn’t say. She needed to get to the engines but she didn’t want to use the corridor.

  “Several Chescala have taken up positions outside,” Addam said. He stood with his ear to the door. “I don’t think they’re going to try to break in yet. They’re wondering what happened to the sentries.” He lifted his head. “What are you thinking?”

  “We need to free the ship,” she said.

  “Can’t we just free the robots and let them free the ship?”

  Please hurry, Kammilee sent via implant. Benn’s unconscious. Fading fast.

  “Maybe, but I don’t trust the Chescala. They might blow up the ship if they think they’re going to lose.”

  “That would kill them too.”

  “Remember the Moon? Remember how we would have done anything to complete our mission?”

  “You think they’ve been conditioned to attack Mars no matter what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It makes sense,” Addam said. “You still think like a cadet. We’ve all moved on from those days, but you still understand that fanaticism. It’s like you never left the Moon.”

  Was that a compliment or an insult? She decided to let it go.

  “We’re not getting anywhere,” said Phan.

  “We’re missing something obvious,” Shiloh added. “It shouldn’t be this hard to reactivate them.”

  Could it be a manual switch? Kammilee sent.

  “Good idea,” Phan said. “Check the robots for any kind of pressure point that might be a switch.”

  Aspen hurried to the nearest robot while Addam stepped in front of Xinliu. Aspen’s left hip burned where she’d been shot. She tried not to think of the pain.

  “We can probably rule out hands and feet,” Phan said, “since they get used more often and even if the switch is an ‘on-only’ variety with no ‘off’ position, the designers probably wouldn’t place it in an area that gets used a lot.”

  Aspen checked the top of her robot’s head, running her fingers through the robot’s hair, checking behind its ears and the nape of its neck. Nothing seemed like a switch. Addam, she saw, was fondling Xinliu’s breasts.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “They probably don’t get used much since they’re just for show.”

  Shiloh hugged Mei-Xing, reaching around behind her back. She said, “The center of the back,” just as Mei-Xing opened her eyes and pushed her away.

  “What happened?” Mei-Xing said.

  Addam hugged Xinliu and Aspen hugged her robot, while Phan began hugging the others. Aspen found the soft spot in the center of her robot’s back and pressed it. The robot awoke and disengaged herself from Aspen’s hug. When Xinliu awoke, she also asked what happened.

  “You were put to sleep by the Chescala,” Aspen said. “They’ve taken over the ship. They sent some sort of emergency sleep command. You’d better find its source and figure out a way to block it in the future or they’ll be able to shut you down anytime they like.”

  “We need help for Benn,” Addam said. “He was shot by the Chescala while we were trying to rescue you.”

  The robots ignored him. For a few seconds the only movement was Phan hugging robots and waking them. Then Mei-Xing said, “WT-916 has found the command.”

  Xinliu said, “Share.”

  More waiting—a frustrating minute or more while the robots tried to figure out how to block future commands.

  Finally, Xinliu said, “Okay. We found a way to block further commands. Initiating blocks.”

  “Now can we get some help for Benn?” Aspen asked.

  “First we must free our companions,” Mei-Xing said.

  “No, first we have to save Benn,” said Aspen. “Without him, we wouldn’t have succeeded in rescuing you. Get a med robot to him immediately.”

  “You don’t give us orders,” Mei-Xing said.

  It doesn’t matter now, Kammilee sent.

  “Benn?” Addam asked.

  He’s gone.

  Aspen’s knees buckled, forcing her to sit. Shiloh pulled Phan into a hug, while Addam, who knew Benn best, turned away. Aspen hadn’t lost anyone until now. All the other cadets’ deaths had occurred under someone else’s command, during a time when she considered herself a warrior, when she was programmed to destroy and not worry about the loss of a few soldiers.

  This felt different—the loss of a person she’d promised Zora she would protect. Though he had never been a friend, Aspen had considered Benn an important part of the team. And since their arrival on the ship, he’d grown immensely, no longer the impetuous fighter he’d been under Curtik’s command.

  He’d sacrificed himself for her, for all of them. So his death was on her. She could blame only herself. And the Chescala. She felt a rage building inside, a burning sensation similar to what she’d felt on the Moon.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “We are too,” said Shiloh. “So sorry.”

  “We have to get to the infirmary,” Addam said.

  “No.” Aspen got to her feet, putting her weight on her right leg to lessen the pressure on her left hip. “Kammilee, you stay there. We’re taking back the ship.”

  “This is our fight,” Mei-Xing said. The robot turned to face Xinliu. “We predicted it would come to this one day.”

  Xinliu nodded.

  Aspen swung her Las-rifle around and pointed it at Mei-Xing as Addam, Phan and Shiloh leveled their Las-rifles at the robots.

  “You can help us,” Aspen said, “but it’s our fight too. It became our fight when they attacked us.”

  “We’re stronger, faster and less vulnerable to weapons fire,” Xinliu said. “Plus, you have been injured. Why not let us handle this?”

  “How many of your fellow robots were killed?” Aspen said. She pointed toward the door. “There are some weapons on the floor over there. You’re welcome to join us, but the only way to stop us is to attack us. And if you do, some of you are going to die.”

  Xinliu nodded. Mei-Xing stepped past them and picked up a Las-rifle. The remaining robots moved forward and selected as many weapons as they could find, leaving Xinliu and several others unarmed.

  “Pick up the Chescala,” Aspen said to the robots, gesturing toward the dead bodies. “Hold them in front of you. When we open the door, march out with them. Keep them in front of you as shields. We’ll come out behind you, firing.”

  “Are you planning to kill them?” Xinliu asked.

  “I’m planning to stop them,” Aspen said. “And the surest way to do that is by making certain they can’t hit us back.”

>   “They are human,” Xinliu said. “We cannot harm them. And we cannot allow you to harm them either.”

  “I can harm them,” Mei-Xing said. “Look what they did to us. Look what they were planning to do. They were going to destroy us.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Xinliu. “I ask that you not kill them.”

  They all looked at Aspen: robots and cadets alike. Her mouth watered in anticipation and she found it difficult to think clearly. All she wanted was to kill. Then she recalled her last few days on the Moon, when all she wanted was to destroy everything and everyone who wasn’t a cadet. Zora had managed to overcome that bloodlust. Even Curtik had moved beyond it. Was she less self-controlled than Curtik?

  “Purple pulses,” she said. “We stun ‘em, get the rest of the robots online and then retake the ship.”

  Chapter 30

  The rest of the treatment felt less exhilarating. Or maybe it was just that he was starving. Jeremiah ate two spicy bean-paste sandwiches loaded with nutri-mayo and various greens as well as two baskets of sweet potato chips while the med-tech units completed the transfusion process, the genetic changes enhancing his body yet again, pushing him further away from humanity, making him into a new kind of creature. The treatment still energized him to a point, infusing him with the desire to break free, to test out these new powers, but it didn’t feel overwhelming now. He could sit and simply relish the knowledge that he was stronger and faster. Free of pain. And he sensed a deep endurance building—something much greater than he’d ever felt before.

  His anxiety was gone too. He usually felt a constant tug, a pressure to do the right thing, to make up for all the evil he’d committed in his life, but now that knot of discomfort had vanished. He wondered if the treatment would cure the cancer. Devereaux had said no, so probably it wouldn’t, but he no longer felt sick.

  After finishing the two meals Dr. Poole provided, he closed his eyes and tested his senses. He heard Dr. Poole pressing the screen of her PlusPhone, then listened to her heartbeat, which sounded steady and strong, before focusing on the med-tech units. Beneath their hum he heard a softer sound—the movement of liquid through the intravenous tubes. He directed his attention upward and listened for the lights, detecting a faint hiss that might have been the electrical excitation of the LEDs.