[2016] Infinity Born

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[2016] Infinity Born Page 32

by Douglas E. Richards


  55

  Carr shook his head to clear it, snapping out of the trance he was in as he stared like an idiot at Isaac Jordan.

  The location of the all-biological version of the man was a mystery no longer.

  Of course this was where he was, thought Carr. As near to his daughter as possible since this Isaac Jordan had yet to interact with her. Once Jordan Two had been sacrificed, the original could tell Riley he had decided to visit her at the mansion to learn of her decision. He could make sure that when they did return to his waterfall-facing property, all signs of the demise of Jordan Two were gone.

  “Do they have Riley?” shouted Jordan anxiously as he, Carr, and Roberto Estrada made their way from the bedroom. Smoke was thickening within the guest house at an alarming rate as the fires spread.

  “No. She’s safe inside the mansion’s panic room.”

  Jordan blew out a long breath. “Thank you!” he bellowed, managing to show profound relief even in the middle of a literal firestorm.

  “What’s the play?” shouted Estrada urgently, nodding at Carr. “You said more were on the way. They’ll probably be waiting for us to emerge.”

  The lieutenant paused to analyze the situation, not from his own point of view but from the point of view of the enemy. This was an exercise that had saved his life on a number of occasions, but he had rarely found concentration this difficult. Not surprising since he was suffering from burns and two minor gunshot wounds, and was standing in a house that was burning and smoking around him, while alarms hammered at his brain.

  “I was wrong,” he replied finally. “We need to get out of here. Now! The coast will be clear,” he added with conviction.

  “How can you be so sure?” shouted Estrada as Carr began moving toward the front door with the two men in tow, crouching low to stay under the descending wall of smoke.

  “Trust me for now. I’ll explain when we’re clear.”

  Just before Carr exited, Jordan gripped his shirt from behind and held it firmly. “Roberto and I will go first,” he yelled. “We have our consciousness backed up. You don’t. If you’re wrong and end up dead, there’s no bringing you back.”

  Estrada plowed through the door without waiting for a response, returning moments later to indicate that Carr had been right and there was no sign of an ambush.

  They each stepped into fresh air and began putting distance between themselves and the flaming house.

  “What’s going on here?” said Jordan. “How is it that we’re under attack?”

  “The short version,” replied Carr hastily, relieved not to have to shout any longer, “is that Volkov hid an undetectable bug and tracer in Riley’s stunner. It picked up everything your double told us during our discussion, along with our current location. Knowing that duplicates were possible, Volkov realized what I realized—that Jordan Two was meant to be expendable—and he didn’t fall for your plan. Volkov must be with Jordan Two now, waiting for his men to capture Riley so he can regain the upper hand.”

  Jordan frowned, assimilating this new reality and all that it implied in one fell swoop. “Shit!” he said simply. “It should have worked. Jordan Two, as you call him, swept everything for bugs. Seems I’ve underestimated Russian technology.”

  “One other thing,” said Carr. “As you know, I promised your double I wouldn’t tell Riley that he was a duplicate. Recent circumstances forced me to break this promise. But rather than feeling betrayed, I think she appreciated what you were trying to do.”

  “Understood,” said Jordan. “And thanks for telling me.”

  Estrada still wasn’t entirely clear on the subtleties of what was happening, but he recognized that longer explanations would have to wait. He turned to the lieutenant. “You said you’d explain how you knew the coast would be clear,” he said.

  “The last man you killed in there was Sergei Greshnev, Volkov’s second-in-command. When his four comrades who were manning the perimeter saw the house on fire, I knew they’d begin to make their way here and attempt to contact Greshnev. When he didn’t respond, they’d contact Volkov.”

  “But he’s not on-site,” said Jordan, “and I’ve suppressed cell and Wi-Fi on the premises.”

  “True, but Volkov knew about that. He heard your double explain it to me. So he’d make sure to send his team with comms that wouldn’t be affected.”

  “So they called him for orders,” said Estrada. “Are you saying you’ve guessed the nature of these orders?”

  “Exactly. I’ve dealt with this asshole before. I know he’s come to respect my abilities. He’ll assume that the three men who were sent to the guest house are down, and he won’t risk losing the rest by sending them after me. Instead, he’ll have his remaining team rush to the mansion to grab Riley, taking advantage of my absence. He’ll guess that I’ll be hunkering down near the guest house, expecting them to come after me, allowing his men to lower their guard and root Riley out as quickly as possible.”

  “So you think they’ll be splitting up inside the mansion?” asked Estrada.

  “I do,” replied Carr. “They’ll think they now have free rein. And I’m confident they won’t leave a sentry. They’ll gamble on getting Riley at all cost, so all four will be assigned to the Riley Ridgeway scavenger hunt.” He paused. “Which means we can sprint back to the main residence out in the open. If we get there fast enough, we’ll have the chance to engage them with their guards down.”

  “Okay,” said Estrada, “so you know how this Volkov thinks. But he knows how you think, also. Won’t he guess you’ll use this line of reasoning?”

  Carr shook his head. “He doesn’t know I’ve discovered he bugged Riley’s stunner. He has no idea I have as good a grasp of the situation as I do.”

  “I say we trust your instincts,” said Jordan. “But we’re going first. We’ll play the track stars while you follow up with a slow and careful approach. If you are wrong, this will still give us a chance. And, again, if you die, you’re gone for good—while we aren’t.”

  Carr opened his mouth to reply when Jordan cut him off. “Not open for debate!” he insisted.

  Carr thought about reminding Jordan that he wasn’t in charge, but there was no time for further discussion, and the man did make some good points.

  “Are you really up for a sprint?” Carr asked Estrada, gesturing to his blood-soaked shirt. “Gunshot wounds tend to slow people down.”

  “Desperate times,” said Estrada. “I’ll make it as long as I need to.”

  Carr issued a brief nod, communicating his respect for the pilot’s determination.

  “I’ll run as fast as I can,” said Jordan, “but don’t wait up, Roberto.” He caught Carr’s eye. “I’m a horrible shot,” he explained, “so my plan is to choose a hiding place and hope I can surprise someone at point-blank range. You two can do the active hunting.”

  With this said, Jordan bolted off in the direction of the mansion, catching Estrada so much by surprise that it took the pilot ten full seconds to pass him. Meanwhile, Carr began a much slower, stealthier approach, as agreed. If he was wrong and they had posted a sentry, Jordan and Estrada would be his canaries in the coal mine, tripping the landmines for him.

  He was used to being in the lead, but he couldn’t fault Jordan’s logic. And he admired his courage. Just because Jordan’s consciousness had been saved didn’t mean his instinct for self-preservation had diminished. And in Carr’s view, it would still be tragic to lose the only fully-biological Isaac Jordan in existence.

  Carr couldn’t stop himself from picking up the pace. They had managed to kill three out of seven men, which was a good start.

  But they weren’t out of the woods yet.

  56

  For Riley Ridgeway, Carr’s words just before leaving them in the panic room were the opposite of the straw that broke the camel’s back. They were the straw that mended the camel’s back.

  Her instincts had been shouting at her for some time to trust her father, and she had foug
ht them like she was a cornered badger. But her father’s wild description of his history and the future he was working toward were too elaborate to have been fabricated, even by him. Everything hung together too well.

  It was obvious that he was a great man, and despite herself, she had come to believe that he was also a good one.

  But not a perfect one. A man who struggled mightily to do the best he could in helping lift mankind and pave the way to the stars.

  If he succeeded in reaching his goals, Isaac Jordan would go down in history as the man who had ushered in the era of immortality. Of infinity. As the man who had seen death as a disease that simply needed a cure. As the man who had accepted the Fermi Paradox for the cautionary tale that it was, but who refused to let the speed of light barrier limit his vision.

  Her father had made a mistake. A huge one. He had been extraordinarily cautious in setting up the ultimate anti-ASI safeguard—a kinetic round in space—but then extraordinarily careless in failing to consider the fallout that would ensue if it did need to be deployed.

  But he had never acted out of malice, or been seized in the grip of psychosis.

  Even the most well-intentioned man, trying to be as ethical as possible, made mistakes, and there was no doubt her father was no exception, and was continuing to make mistakes every day. And, yes, it was said that the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

  But so was the road to heaven.

  And there were so many powerful people trying to take the human race to hell with bad intentions. Surely this was a quicker route to the underworld than what her father was attempting.

  Carr’s words had finally knocked out her last shred of resistance, had forced her to finally let go of the ultimate grudge, one harbored against a man she blamed for betraying the entire world and destroying her life.

  Carr had provided one more powerful demonstration that her father had not been lying—about anything. Her father did care about her—for her—as much as he said he did. He had been watching out for her these past eight years in a way that suddenly didn’t seem creepy anymore. He had vowed he would die to protect her, and by creating a duplicate who was dedicated to doing just this, he had provided the ultimate proof that these weren’t just hollow words.

  Yes, he should have reunited with her much sooner. He should have reanimated her mother and brothers. But she could forgive him these lapses. He had his own fears and weaknesses to overcome.

  She had initially concluded that even if she came to believe all he said, she would refuse to join him. Why wrestle with the weight of the world? Her life was uncomplicated and simple.

  Except that it wasn’t. She had been living as someone she wasn’t. She had been suppressing her intellect and her passion for science. She had been content to live in a holding pattern, her life heading in no real direction, content to lick her wounds and push away a man she refused to admit she loved the moment this love became impossible to deny.

  She had been living in fear she would turn into a monster like her infamous father.

  Now she could have it all. A father who was not a monster, and who did still love her. She could pursue her interests unrestrained, working in conjunction with scientific giants. She could stop fighting her love for David Bram and let it blossom instead, and pursue the most consequential goals in human history with him by her side.

  And after witnessing Jordan Two’s humanity, she was now a believer that she could even have her mother and brothers back, precisely as emotional, as rational, as perfect, and as flawed as they had been while fully biological.

  Not that there would ever be a perfect world. Riley didn’t agree with her father in every case. And as exhilarating as his vision was, there was something about it that was still troubling to her.

  Pinning this down would require further thought. But this would have to wait until she wasn’t in the middle of a crisis. Her new friend, Cameron Carr, had just left them in the panic room moments before, willingly throwing himself into the lion’s den.

  It was ironic that Carr’s revelation had prompted her to forgive her father and believe in him again, just when the walls were caving in. It was ironic that the instant she had come to embrace a future along the lines that her father had outlined, this future was in danger of being snatched away. More than in danger. The Russians had the upper hand and seemed sure to destroy everything her father had worked for.

  And if Marat Volkov was calling the shots, the future would become more of an Orwellian nightmare than a grand vision for humanity.

  She and her two companions could now do nothing but watch the lieutenant on the monitors, powerless to help him.

  “Are we doing the right thing letting him face this alone?” asked Riley.

  “Yeah, I feel guilty, too,” said Bram. “But it’s the right thing. You’re the key, so keeping you out of Volkov’s hands is the highest priority. I thought about pushing Carr to let me go with him, but the last thing he needs is an untrained civilian to babysit.”

  Bram frowned. “I really do believe that,” he added. “So why do I feel like a coward?”

  “For the same reasons I do,” said Riley. “But you’re right. You’re no hero if your act of bravery only makes things worse. And I know your true colors. I was there when you offered yourself up to Volkov if he would free me.”

  On the monitors, Carr entered a bedroom and began rooting around.

  Trish watched him gather items in fascination. “Why do you think he needs a woman’s bathing suit?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “You’ve got me,” said Riley with a shrug, and Bram shook his head as well.

  Before they could consider it further, the lieutenant entered the kitchen and proceeded to dump garbage onto the floor. It was surreal to be watching him like he was the star of a silent movie, one without subtitles and so far, without a discernible plot.

  “Wow,” said Trish as she watched him fly around the kitchen. “This guy really moves with a purpose.”

  “Oh shit!” said Bram, as they watched Carr extend a flaming garbage bin toward a smoke detector on the ceiling. “I hate those things,” he added, just as the high-decibel nightmare began.

  They watched the rest unfold with their ears covered, wishing their silent movie could have stayed that way. Carr continued to operate with an awe-inspiring level of speed and decisiveness.

  Five minutes after Carr had left them in the panic room, they watched three armed soldiers enter the back door of the guest house. Not long thereafter, Carr entered through the front door, and less than a minute later the house was in flames—and none of the panic room’s thirty-two monitors could show them what was happening inside.

  Riley’s breath caught in her throat as she watched, trying not to panic. The four men who had been patrolling the perimeter began to move toward the burning house, but after making it less than halfway they stopped abruptly and changed direction. It became clear almost immediately that they were now heading toward the main residence.

  When Riley shifted her gaze back to the monitor showing the front door of the guest house, three men were now outside—and none of them were Russian.

  Two of the men were battered and bloody, Cameron Carr and Roberto Estrada.

  Riley gasped as the third man came into full view. A man who was unmistakably her father.

  57

  Riley traded glances with her two companions in the panic room. It was good that Carr had confided in them when he had, or they would have been even more shocked to see Jordan on the monitor.

  Part of her hadn’t been entirely convinced the version of her father they had met was really a duplicate. She found it almost impossible to believe that whole brain emulation could be that perfect. But seeing him here, now, made the reality of it undeniable.

  Another minute passed and the four armed assailants entered the back of the main residence. At the same time, on another monitor, her father began running toward the mansion, on the front side of the property. Roberto
Estrada quickly followed, carrying one of the Russian’s submachine guns with him.

  Carr began to make his way toward the mansion, as well, but he moved far more slowly and took a more stealthy, circuitous route—circling around so that, unlike the other two, he would enter the back of the main residence.

  Riley found this to be strange. If any of the three should be leading the charge, it was Cameron Carr. She could see he was wounded, but Estrada looked even worse. Despite not quite understanding what she was seeing, she trusted Carr’s judgment. Whatever the reason for this formation, it must be a good one.

  One of the Russians made hand signals to his comrades, deciding not to try to shout over the alarms, and they began fanning out, two remaining on the back side of the mansion and two hastily rushing to the front, not bothering to search any real estate they traveled through on the way to their destination. When they reached their goal, these two split up, as had their two comrades on the back side.

  Their attackers had clearly separated the mansion into four quadrants, with each man having responsibility for searching and clearing one of them.

  Riley now had to choose which of a number of monitors to watch, darting back and forth between them. On one of them, Roberto Estrada entered the front of the mansion and crept through the magnificent entry foyer, hugging walls and turning corners quickly with his weapon extended, reminding her of countless movies she had seen of commandos cautiously working their way through an enemy compound.

  A Russian in the back east quadrant passed a smoke detector and planted two rounds into it, reducing the total decibels to a less ear-crushing level. She suspected they all had orders to do the same, eventually restoring quiet to the residence. This would allow them to concentrate and communicate, and also to hear movement nearby. Their prey would also be able to hear them, but this wasn’t much of a worry. The Russians were trained soldiers with automatic weapons, while those they were hunting were unarmed civilians.

 

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