Legacy of a Mad Scientist

by John Carrick

  “Only about half of them are operational, but if you’ve got to crack an especially hard nut, this is the tool you want.”

  “Name your price,” Stanwood said.

  “My price… First, my Conditions are that I want a support squad for every suit we activate. These things look tough, but concentrated fire is a problem for anyone, so I want a squad of bullet catchers for support and distraction on any incursion into enemy territory.

  “Second, I have a question… What is preventing the return of Fox’s Centaur Cyber-tanks?”

  “They are locked out of orbit. We have a magnetic quarantine in place. If they tried to get in, we would know, and we will stop them. It was the mandate that won Conway the election.”

  Cedric raised a hand, “So then we are going up against the Black Willow Gun Trees. We can only go in force. Meaning, when it comes to the Wolf Pack, I only have four pilots. That means, you and your ass hat out there in the car will have to pilot two of the suits. I’m not sending four, if they could be six. If you want this, you must take it yourself.”

  “Do we need training?” Stanwood asked.

  “You’ll learn fast or you’ll die.” Cedric smiled.

  “Encouraging.”

  “Now, my price.” Cedric raised his hand. “You said children, plural?”

  “Yes, a boy and a girl,” Stanwood answered.

  “My price then, dead or alive, I want significant access to their DNA and dead or alive, I want The Girl.”

  “That’s all?” Stanwood asked, shocked and astonished.

  “That’s all,” Bergstrom answered.

  “Fine, you have a deal, Doctor.” Stanwood realized he actually didn’t care. Suddenly the entire adventure had lost its allure. Stanwood didn’t want to have anything to do with Bergstrom. He felt dirty just standing in the man’s presence. He’d agree to anything, just to leave this space. “How soon can we get started?” Stanwood asked.

  “I need forty-eight hours, more or less,” Dr. Bergstrom replied.

  “That’s fine. I’ve hardly slept in three days.”

  Filled with revulsion, Stanwood handed Bergstrom his card. “I’ll be expecting your call.”

  King was invisibly holding his weapon on the two men and switching his aim from one to the next and back again.

  Croswell interrupted him. “First Sergeant, I want you to follow the director back to his car and spray everything you see along the way with the micro-transmitters. Acknowledge.”

  “Copy, yes, sir,” King replied over the thought link, and holstered his pistol to pull out the aforementioned transmitter spray.

  Chapter 53 – Active Missions

  Tuesday Morning, July 28, 2308

  At four in the morning, Ashley's phone went off. She answered, still groggy with sleep.

  Ross's voice came both over the phone and from right outside the door. "Time to get up. I want you and the little guy dressed and in the kitchen in five minutes.”

  A few minutes more than five minutes later, Ashley and Geoff walked down the maintenance hall toward the kitchen. The lights were still off, and no light came in from behind the pulled shades and blinds.

  Ross met the children halfway to their destination. "First things first...”

  Ashley’s Journal, Tuesday, July 28, 2308

  After early morning patrols, we had breakfast and talked about ways to improve security. Ross had all the correct answers, but he wanted us thinking about it. We discussed the finer points of distributing weapons, ammunition and first aid supplies where they could do the most good.

  He explained that you had to think about it as Fortifying Your Base. As if you were always less than six hours from an actual attack.

  Where would you want weapons and ammo stashed during a firefight?

  It's a bit of a tie, actually, between the bathroom and the kitchen. The bathroom has a reinforced tub and a window you can occasionally escape through, but it’s also called a Kill Box for a reason.

  Tuesday Morning, July 28, 2308

  The micro-transmitters Croswell had sprayed at Stanwood’s home informed the secretary that Stanwood had finally returned home for the first time since shooting Fox.

  In full battle armor, Croswell arrived at Stanwood’s residence. Hovering overhead, he performed an intimate scan. He read the security entries and the residential event logs. Stanwood had opened the fridge, taken nothing out, proceeded to the bathroom where the relieved himself, showered and was now asleep in his bed.

  Von Kalt was nowhere to be seen.

  Secretary Croswell, having already hacked the rudimentary security system, instructed it to open the patio door as he arrived. It closed a moment later, after Croswell had invisibly entered, having made zero contact with the domicile.

  The Secretary checked Stanwood’s room to be sure it was actually him and that he hadn’t somehow been duped.

  It was indeed the Intelligence Director whom Jim had known since grammar school, lying fast asleep.

  Croswell drifted into the living room and fixed himself a drink. He was in no hurry. As long as Stanwood was here, there was little possibility that he was piloting a war machine at the same time.

  The Secretary relayed his location to the other members of his team. First Sergeant King acknowledged, from his place above the orphanage, as did Captain Snow, from her monitoring station above St. Vincent’s.

  Ashley took notes in her journal as Ross spoke, “There's almost never a way out, plus lots of tile and glass. So where bathrooms are concerned, if you don’t know ahead of time, avoid it. The kitchen is better for hiding weapons and ammo, and there's usually a backdoor, but it's mostly open and indefensible. They will believe that our transportation is out in the garage, making that a definite target.”

  "So that will be the first thing they go after," Geoff said,

  "Exactly right. They'll try to disable any escape," Ross said.

  "So they'll be watching the other exits too, right?" Ashley asked.

  "Yes. We've got two sets of bad guys to worry about: those with limited budgets and exposure and those without limits. That means, the people who want to keep their activity a secret and those who can send forty agents after us."

  "They're going to keep looking for us, as long as we have this." Ashley pulled out the black rectangle and set it next to the maps.

  Ross smiled. "Despite how valuable it is, that's just a piece of hardware. They want you.”

  "Loose ends," Ashley said. "We're just loose ends.”

  "You're not 'just' anything," Ross said. "They want me, Mr. Reid, and a couple of other guys, we're loose ends. You are about profit and power. We stay together, we stay alive, and we go to Canada.”

  "I don't want to run. I don't want to go anywhere," Ashley said.

  "I want my old life back and I want them dead." Ash said, coldly.

  Both Geoff and Ross remained silent for a few moments.

  "In the trash cans," Geoffrey said. "Under the garbage bags.”

  "What?" Ross asked.

  "In the bathrooms, that's where we put the guns," Geoff smiled.

  Ross nodded and smiled. "I've mapped out the best escape routes.”

  He laid out some local maps, showing the nearby streets and buildings. "There's a twenty-four hour public parking structure here. If you have to detonate this place, go there." Ross pointed to a square four blocks from their location. "And another one here," Ross pointed to a second location, on the other side of the map.

  “Whichever direction you find yourselves going, just go. You can get to either of them almost unseen by taking this street and this alley, here." Ross laid out the trail with his finger on the map. "I traced it yesterday. Once you get there, in each garage is a black transport. Ditch the sedan.”

  Ross handed them an electric key. "Hit the button and the closest one will come to you.

  "We're going to be the Roberts family, Ashley, your new name is Erin. Geoff, you are Michael, and I am Michael Senior. Once we're over the bo
rder, we pick up a second set. All we have to do is get there.”

  "Did you get a chance to check on the security footage, at our house?" Ashley asked.

  "I checked. The house looks secure, but I spotted three roving patrols and two stationary units. It was too dangerous to go inside.”

  "We should just go after them, find out who they're working for.”

  "It's not that easy?"

  "We can't just let them get away with it," Ashley argued.

  "They already did," Ross said.

  "What's the point of learning how to fight and fortify your base, if you're just going to run all the time?" Ash asked.

  "You're too young," Ross said.

  “They know you're helping us. They're going to have the borders covered. They won't be expecting us to attack.”

  "They will destroy any evidence we don't already have. As much as you may want this, we don't have the resources.”

  "I'm not leaving," Ashley was serious.

  Geoff looked at her, shocked.

  "I'm going after them. My father was a good person. He never hurt anyone and our mom was super-nice. They killed her, and I'm not just going to run away and forget. I'm going to find out who did this, and I'm going to stop them!”

  Geoff and Ross were both quiet in the wake of her determination.

  Finally, Ross spoke. "We still have some time, and we need to be prepared to escape at any moment, but there is such a thing as overwhelming firepower and the odds are against us.”

  "Maybe we can use the Micronix to get the footage," Geoff suggested. "We just need to move to a better wired community. There's not enough bandwidth here for me to get inside.”

  "We need to set a trap,” Ash said. “Catch someone who knows something and make an example out of him. If they're staking out our house, then let's grab one of them. I'll make him talk. You don't have to do anything." Ashley was dead serious.

  "For one; You are Insane. For two; too many things can go wrong. There's too few of me here to try that. I appreciate your motivation, but you're still kids. Maybe we'll try Geoff's plan, tomorrow, maybe. End of discussion," Ross said.

  Chapter 54 – Payback

  Tuesday Evening, July 28, 2308

  Secretary Croswell, lounging on Stanwood’s couch, used his Micronix amplifier to handle the digital day-to-day requirements of his office. He was caught up before lunch and spent the afternoon getting a jump on the next day. His helmet sat on the coffee table.

  The battle suit supplied all the nutrition he needed in the form of Dr. Fox’s Super Blue Healing Goo. Between panels, Croswell carried more than two gallons of the thick syrup. The noontime injections in each hip surprised him, but as the goo replaced the sensation of pain with one of pleasure, after a few moments, only the fading adrenalin dump caused by the initial surprise remained.

  Croswell heard Stanwood begin to stir late in the afternoon. At six, another injection would be triggered, unless had settled this dispute and gotten out of the damn suit. Frustrated and angry; Croswell rose from the couch. He had long since turned off the phase shift camouflage. If Stanwood had awakened, he would have seen him, but that was the whole idea.

  Croswell walked to the doorway between the elite-shelf living room and bedroom.

  Stanwood was half awake and sat up, shocked to see Croswell standing there. “James?”

  Without any warning, Croswell discovered he was furious. He’d known Joe Stanwood almost all his life. And Joe Stanwood had shot his friend, their friend, Andy Fox, who created the blue goo that had healed Wendell’s smashed knee.

  Without any sort of pause, before Stanwood could speak, Croswell drew his weapon and fired. He didn’t just fire once, or twice. Croswell shot Stanwood at least a dozen times. Then he stepped onto the blood-splattered sheets and blankets and grabbed Stanwood by the neck.

  The intelligence director coughed and choked, gasping for air through his ruined lungs and esophagus.

  Secretary Croswell unsnapped one of the blue goo tubes from the reservoir on his back. He smiled and sprayed Stanwood with the blue goo.

  “You didn’t have the balls to try this when we were kids, Joey. So, here you go.” Croswell could see the goo stitching Stanwood’s splattered organs and bone back together. He knew first hand how painful the process actually was.

  Stanwood tried to scream, but couldn’t, as he could hardly breathe.

  Croswell kept his old friend pinned with his left hand on Stanwood’s throat. After a few minutes, it was clear that Stanwood was breathing properly. “I missed your heart,” Croswell said. “I can do better than that.”

  “Stanwood tried to raise his hands. “Jim, listen…”

  “Listen to what? You fucking shot Andy, you asshole.”

  Croswell held the barrel of his weapon on the soft spot beneath Stanwood’s ribcage and fired three more times.

  Croswell’s face was in front to of Stanwood’s. “How do you like that, you son of a bitch?”

  Stanwood began to gag and sputter. It was clear he was dying.

  Croswell rose from the bed and doused Stanwood’s ruined midsection with another liberal helping of the healing blue syrup. The intelligence director would survive. He’d probably be in even better shape than before Croswell shot him.

  Stanwood convulsed as the polysynthetic nano-stem cells did their work. He coughed up a considerable volume of blue-tinted blood and bullets.

  “You’ve still got a pretty high concentration of syrup in you there, Joey. I think you can take a couple more. What do you think?”

  “No! No, no more!” Stanwood pleaded.

  “Yeah, well, fuck what you think, you dick.” Croswell aimed at Stanwood’s knee. “You pushed Wendell into the pool didn’t you?”

  “No! I swear!”

  “Bullshit.” Croswell put three rounds through Stanwood’s knee.

  Stanwood screamed and cried, holding his knee and his ruptured guts.

  Croswell stepped away from the bed and reattached the tube to his reservoir tank. “If I were you, I’d try and spit some of that syrup onto your knee, cause I’m not giving you any more. And I’d bet, you being the shit-bird you are, my money says you don’t have an emergency reserve pack stashed here somewhere.

  “And don’t take the crap they give you at the emergency room. It’s watered down to nothing. Hell, you should call your little butt-buddy Cedric. He’s got his own version of the stuff. But be careful, I’ve heard his grape-mix doesn’t go well with Fox’s blue nectar. In fact, this stuff has a tendency to turn hostile against any sort of competitive nano-products.”

  Croswell pulled out his phone. “Now shut up for a second, I need to make a call.”

  Stanwood actually tried to silence his pain-filled whimpering but could only reduce the volume slightly.

  “Kelly, hey it’s Jim. I’m over here at our friend Joe’s place, and we have reached an understanding.”

  Croswell looked over at Stanwood. “He’s going to take a step back and drop this case. After all, he has plenty of real work that needs doing, don’t you?”

  Stanwood nodded.

  “So, you guys are okay, nothing to worry about anymore. Isn’t that right Director?”

  Croswell held the phone out toward Stanwood, who whimpered and cried, “Yes, yes, yes.”

  Croswell returned the phone to his ear and listened for a moment.

  “Yes, of course.” He picked up his helmet and walked toward the front door. “I will get them and bring them directly to you, I swear. But don’t you think it would be better if we didn’t need to go that route.”

  Croswell listened for a moment then said, “No. It’s just that coming back will be so much more difficult, you know that.”

  Croswell approached the front door. “Okay. I’ll talk to you in a bit.” He disconnected the call and turned back to Stanwood.

  Croswell gave the suffering director the finger and said, “Fuck off and die, Joey. Don’t even think about teaming up with Bergstrom. If you go anyw
here near D-Thirteen again, President’s nephew or not, I will put a bullet in your head.”

  Croswell walked toward Stanwood again, stopping at the end of the bed. “I want you to listen me very carefully, Joe. We’ve known each other a long time, and I have never bull-shitted you, or bull-shat you, whatever.

  “My point is; it’s time for you to resign. If you don’t, President Conway is going have to hold his sister’s hand at your funeral. Are you hearing me, over all that whimpering you’re doing over there?”

  Croswell drew his weapon and fired a single shot, destroying the Director’s personal phone. He then put a round through every terminal monitor in the condo. “Just in case I was less than clear: Get the hell out of Angel City, shitbag.”

  Croswell exited through the front door, donned his helmet in the open courtyard and vanished into the darkening sky.

  Chapter 55 – Bandwidth Surfing

  Wednesday, July 29, 2308

  The next day Ross, Ash and Geoff climbed out of the transport outside an upscale park in a high class business / residential district.

  "Oh, this is great," Geoff said, looking at all the trees and smiling.

  "What, being out in nature?" Ross asked.

  "No, the bandwidth, it's thick out here."

  "This is not nature," Ashley mumbled, referring to the floating structure they stood on.

  "Wow," Geoff was amazed, grinning as he took a seat on a nearby park bench. "Ash, you brought it?"

  Ashley patted her back pocket.

  "We can stay out here all day!" Geoff laughed.

  "No, we can't. Stay on task, Geoffrey." Ross didn’t even smile.

  "Copy that, stay on target, Gold Leader." Geoffrey grinned.

  Ashley watched an older Chinese man practice Tai Chi across the park. He seemed absorbed in what he was doing, as if nothing in the world could disturb him. Ashley was envious of his moment of peace. She hoped someday she would reach his esteemed age and find a park of her own.