Legacy of a Mad Scientist

by John Carrick

  Croswell watched King tumble, burning, from the lip of the hangar. At least one of his drives and a stabilizer had been compromised, given the way he rolled.

  Croswell prepared to enter the hangar but pulled back as seven more missiles streaked away from King’s unit. They arced from his damaged tank and returned toward the open hangar, seeking out the remaining wolves.

  Croswell laughed. King hadn’t hesitated; he’d been getting a heat lock. The secretary pulled back as five more missiles streaked toward the hangar. King had gotten his damaged tank under control and fired again, three missiles, then his final warhead.

  When Croswell hovered down, the hangar was a billowing cloud of smoke and debris.

  Over the radio, King called out, “We’ve got two fleeing to the north.”

  Croswell dropped down below the hangar. A massive hole had been ripped in the far end. In the distance, two wolves could be seen ducking under the hovering plates of the industrial district.

  “What’s your status,” Croswell asked.

  King activated his personal anti-gravity harness and ejected from his Black Willow battle tank just a few moments before it exploded.

  “That’s not the answer I was looking for.” The secretary muttered.

  Croswell retracted the barrels from his right forelimb and extended a three-pronged mechanical hand. He chased after the tumbling and unconscious first sergeant, catching him and re-engaging his phase-cam.

  Croswell retreated to the now visible surveillance trailer and docked his invisible battle tank. Inside, he triggered the trailer phase-cam again and after a moment of sputtering, it engaged.

  “Fucking Bergstrom,” Croswell muttered.

  On the monitors he saw Captain Snow and Major Ross pull up outside the trailer and laughed.

  As they entered the trailer, Croswell’s phone rang. He answered.

  “Secretary Croswell…” they heard someone say.

  “Yes sir, Mister President,” Croswell answered.

  “I need you to come down to my office with all remaining members of the black willow operations.”

  “You know there’s only two of us left, sir. Myself and Major Ross.”

  “In my office, ASAP.”

  “Yes sir,” Croswell replied.

  Conway disconnected, and Croswell closed the communicator.

  He looked up to Captain Snow and Major Ross. “Looks like we’re going to the east coast.”

  “I’ll load some extra magazines,” Ross answered.

  Croswell laughed.

  He looked over to Snow. “You should go directly back to Saint Vincent’s. Two of the wolves escaped, and the slippery little turd Bergstrom did too. He’ll have another scanner fabricated by midnight.

  Croswell looked over to Ross, “Call Reid and have him join her.” He looked back to Ana, “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  Ross laughed. “If at all. And where is the package?” Ross asked. “How long does it take the Secretary of Defense to work up some shitty fake IDs?

  “Where do you think we’re going?” Croswell smiled. “Chill with the negative waves already.”

  Chapter 57 – Supplication

  Wednesday Night, Eleven pm, July 29, 2308

  Croswell and Ross got some much-needed shut-eye on the three-hour flight to the east coast. They docked in the guest-parking unit and reported to the secret service checkpoint in their battle armor.

  The saluting guards fell over each other to admit Major Ross and the Secretary of Defense. Croswell was a common enough sight at the White House, but these guards had never seen him in a fully augmented Black Willow terillium battle suit.

  Conway left them waiting in a conference room for almost an hour.

  Finally, the guards returned and escorted Croswell and Ross to the Oval Office. The room was empty. Neither man sat down, but waited another hour, standing at parade rest.

  Finally President Conway entered, furious. Croswell and Ross both noticed the diplomatic pouch he carried and dropped on his desk. The White House Chief of Staff, John Phillips, followed closely.

  “Would you gentlemen explain yourselves please?” Conway asked.

  “What’s the issue, sir?” Croswell asked.

  “The Issue? The Issue, Sir, is two Black Willow Battle Tanks opening fire on an stateside orphanage?! Enlighten me, Please, Sir?”

  “If you know that much, you know precisely what is going on, Mister President.”

  “I’d like to hear you say it, Mister Croswell. I’d like to hear your explanation of events.”

  “Go fuck yourself, sir.”

  Phillips was suddenly screaming, jabbing his finger in Croswell’s face; “That’s the Gad Damn President of the United States…”

  Phillips’s assault came to an abruptly halt when Croswell grabbed his finger and broke it. Croswell held the man at his side, like a dog on a leash. “I don’t think you understand who you’re speaking to, Big John.”

  Croswell slowly returned his attention to Conway. “Mister President, please know, everything I do is in defense of your person and in defense of this office, as well as the Republic at large.

  “Sometimes, I have to make decisions that you might disagree with. For those I ask your forgiveness. As the chief of your generals, there are things that I cannot tell you, burdens I carry, so that you don’t have to.

  “What I did today, opening fire on known criminals who had infested a public institution and exploited the youth of this Republic to their own ends, while regrettable, was necessary. And I protected your office from any culpability, as much as I could.”

  Croswell looked down at Phillips. “However, it would appear that we also have another problem.”

  “James, please let Mister Phillips go.”

  “Yes sir.” Croswell released the Chief, who stumbled away.

  “What’s this other problem?” Conway asked.

  “Sir, it would appear your office has been compromised. Dr. Bergstrom is a known criminal. He’s been a member of the Republic’s most wanted for the better part of a decade. He experimented on children.”

  Phillips seemed to have found his voice with his feet, even if he did speak with a bit more trepidation, “Fox is a criminal and he experimented on children too!”

  “We both know that’s not true,“ Croswell answered.

  “What about the 7982 plant?” Phillips asked.

  “You know damn well that was a genetic engineering research project; all done on slides and in Petri-dishes, on a microscopic level.” Croswell fixed Phillips with a glare that could melt glaciers.

  Phillips retreated a step, but couldn’t stay quiet. “You’re nothing without him, Croswell. I hope you realize that. You’re a paper tiger.”

  Croswell laughed. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”

  The secretary turned to President Conway. “While you left us waiting, I did a little digging of my own. You both know that Major Ross and I are registered Micronix owners. It took us less that a half-an-hour to assemble a paper trail implicating your office in this Bergstrom mess.

  “Someone in this office put Deputy Director Von Kalt in touch with Dr. Cedric Bergstrom, with the express purpose of chasing down two unarmed children.”

  Phillips snorted. “Consider this an act of goodwill… Why don’t you take a look at Senator Miller?”

  “I did, last week. Major Ross and I blew out the Senator’s window and sprayed his office with about three thousand micro-transmitters.”

  “That’s illegal,” Phillips objected.

  “For just about anyone except me, sure. I hold the Office of Secretary of Defense and as such, am vested with legal powers that exceed those of any commissioned officer, and are second only to the Office of President in the military hierarchy.

  “You, Mr. Phillips, are the White House Chief of Staff. You’re just a glorified assistant, and have very little real power outside this structure.”

  Croswell smiled. “You see the thing is
, I intercepted about a dozen messages between Senator Miller and someone in this office. What would The Public think about sending Bergstrom’s Wolf Pack after kids?”

  “There’s a warrant out for those children,” Phillips interjected.

  “That doesn’t mean you get to break the law to recover them, Sir. Let me remind you, we are talking about the children of Doctor Andrew Fox. Do you honestly think he’d let you just cut them up?

  “Those children are outfitted with one of his most secret inventions. He called it The Failsafe. If they are killed by violent means, an implanted chip will be detonated, releasing a five-kiloton yield, on the spot, decimating whoever might be responsible.

  “Now do you understand why I cannot permit them to be taken, under any circumstances?”

  Phillips pulled himself upright and narrowed his eyes, “The warrant specifically says Alive, Mr. Secretary.”

  “To what end?” Croswell asked. He shook his head. “You can’t take them alive, you know that.”

  “The Warrant Stands!” Phillips shouted. “It’s completely legal! It is watertight! Fox Broke The Law! He Endangered Everyone on the Entire West Coast! And this failsafe sounds illegal as hell. What if there was an accident? What gives Fox the right to kill everyone in a twenty block radius because his kid got mugged?”

  Croswell laughed. “Because he can.”

  “It does sound rather selfish and more than a bit careless.” President Conway interjected.

  Croswell paused.

  Phillips leaned forward. “Besides, we already had them once, but Ross interfered! That’s Obstruction of Justice!” He gestured with his damaged hand.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ross answered, humbly.

  “You were seen at an Angel City Library, obstructing a federal investigation.”

  “Oh, you mean those guys who were threatening people with guns? I don’t know what that was about. I saw some idiots who seemed like they were trying to stick-up a public library, yeah. I pulled my badge and identified myself. Two of them grabbed some kids as human shields, but whoever they were, they didn’t have any ID or a warrant. I never did find out what it was all about.”

  “You were shot,” Phillips stated.

  “That’s right, twice.”

  “I heard it was three times?” Phillips said.

  “I should know,” Ross replied.

  “And the children?”

  “Far as I know, they ran out with everyone else. But like I said, I never did find out what it was all about.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for the police?!”

  “I needed emergency medical attention!”

  Conway raised his hands. “Could everyone just calm down, please?”

  No one spoke for a few moments.

  Croswell broke the silence slowly, clearing his throat before speaking quietly. “I’m sure you recognize what kind of a legal and moral problem this represents for your administration. Either yourself, or your chief of staff, provided material support to this known criminal, Bergstrom.”

  The President raised a hand. “Dr. Bergstrom was prosecuted by the previous administration, Mr. Secretary.”

  “That’s absolutely true sir, and with good reason. He has not been pardoned, also with good reason. And believe me, Sir. I really am sorry, but since it would be treasonous on my part, to charge you, or any sitting President with treason, and collusion with such a publicly despised enemy-of-the-state, we are only left with one option.”

  Croswell drew his handgun.

  Conway stumbled backwards.

  Croswell turned to face Phillips.

  The humbled Chief of Staff glared back.

  Croswell offered Phillips the gun. “Do the honorable thing, for once in your fat, filthy, disgusting worm’s-eye-view of a life.”

  Ross smiled, despite his best efforts not to.

  Conway stared in dumb-founded shock, as his Chief of Staff seemed to engage in a struggle against himself.

  Phillips’s hand shook, his arm and face twitched, but he reached out and took the pistol from Secretary Croswell.

  “John, no,” President Conway said.

  The weapon gradually came up, pressing against Phillips’s temple. He screamed and struggled to pull the pistol away.

  The Secret Service guards, posted at the closed doors, burst into the room and witnessed the President’s Chief of Staff ‘Big John’ Phillips, blow his brains all over the back wall.

  Croswell turned to President Conway. “I’m very sorry for your loss sir. I’ll continue to do my best for your office and the Republic of the United States. As for myself, I’d like your permission to collect the ID packet I requested and return to the west coast. I assure you, I will wrap this up as quietly as possible.”

  Conway said nothing but lifted the diplomatic pouch from his desk and handed it to Croswell.

  “Good evening sir,” Ross said, following Croswell out of the office and past the stunned Secret Service guards.

  In the transport, Croswell held the diplomatic pouch.

  “What the hell was that?” Ross asked.

  “I actually don’t want to give you this,” Croswell said, looking at the republic seal stamped onto the leather document pack.

  “Don’t you think you could have gotten Ids in some easier way? I mean, why would you go through Conway, of all people? That seems like the definition of stupid,” Ross asked.

  Croswell looked at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Let me ask you, why did you ask me to do this for you?”

  “Because I knew, whoever I went to, it was going to set off some alarm bells and that you’d end up hearing about it sooner or later anyhow. There was no point going behind your back.”

  “Well, it goes a thousand times more for me and Conway. However I did this, even if it wasn’t until you guys were long gone, sooner or later he was going to have to come to me and ask why I went behind his back. It’s much easier to speak to him like a man and give him the chance to do the right thing. This way his conscience is clear.”

  “That’s why you don’t want to give it to me?” Ross asked.

  “No. I don’t want to give it to you because I don’t think those kids should have to be made to run for their lives. They deserve better than that. There has to be a better way.”

  Chapter 58 – Over-Watch

  Wednesday Late Night, Early Morning, July 29-30, 2308

  Out on the far western edge of the Republic’s border, the derelict hotel, bearing darkened signs reading St. Vincent’s, drifted over the Pacific Ocean. Before Ross left, he’d set the building’s autopilot to a drifting loop out over the ocean. It would mess up the children’s escape routes, but at least they wouldn’t be there when the enemy arrived in the first place.

  Further inland, the 405 freeway cable ran from the far south, up past the city, until it was bisected by the 101, running from the east side of downtown, up the coast through Ventura county and on to Santa Barbara.

  St. Vincent’s hugged the pocket caused by this freeway intersection, not too far from the canyon neighborhood where Ashley had grown up.

  Ana had convinced Reid to put the battle tank on remote and hang a few thousand feet overhead, scanning the slow-drift traffic with their scopes. Ana reasoned that if Cedric had an old-school radar style unit; the battle tanks at the same coordinates would hide their individual silhouettes. All they had to do was stay anchored in tandem, synching their personal harness with the tanks.

  What Captain Snow did not predict was the military convoy that had cued up behind the two remaining wolves.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea,” Reid asked, feeling his heartbeat rise as he spotted the wolves and convoy approaching below. They were still a dozen miles out. “What about Ashley and Geoff?” he asked.

  Ana sighed. “Let’s worry about that if we survive. Ross wires a good safe house, from what I remember.”

  Below them, the Maxwell Armored Fighting Vehicles slowed and moved into a
flying-v formation, drifting in step as the wolves prepped weapons and accelerated toward their targets.

  “Let her rip,” Captain Snow said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Reid answered. Below them, his battle tank launched missiles in series, three, then two, three, two, five and three.

  The Wolves proved surprisingly agile, kicking out chaff and rolling past the warheads. Their independent tracking mini-guns chased the missiles and triggered them at a safe distance from the tank’s armored hide.

  Ana’s Black Willow tank opened fire with its machine guns, ripping into the nearest wolf as it launched a handful of its own missiles.

  “Look,” Reid said, pointing to the five Maxwells that had begun creeping forward again.

  Their weapons were adjusting, aiming for the invisible origins of the fire hurled against the encroaching wolves. Reid’s battle tank opened fire on the armored vehicles.

  One of the wolves, fleeing the line of fire, turned upward and climbed directly toward Ana and Reid.

  Ana and the Chief Warrant Officer smiled at each other and aimed in with their long barreled rifles. Together, they opened fire on the armored wolf as he accelerated up through the atmosphere.

  Ana’s first shot hit the wolf in the shoulder, screaming wildly off the armor plate, but slowing his ascent significantly.

  Reid had aimed at he second one and struck him at a gap in the plate, his round ripping into the wolf’s mechanical aorta.

  The first wolf opened fire and as the rounds of his min-guns reached them, Ana released the gravity-synch with her tank, executing an aerial cartwheel, her body no longer in the line of fire, but her shot lined up. She fired but only hit him in the thigh, spinning him from her line of fire.

  The second wolf, venting pressurized fluids and incapable of maneuvering, after being plugged by Reid, found himself with a shot on Ana. He opened up with everything, blindsiding her, but sacrificing himself.