The securecom link never wavered, the picture on the monitor remained pitch black. That was the way his superiors always communicated, and he’d grown used to it.
“There was a problem with the assets. We’re missing one.” He didn’t bother explaining why this was a gigantic problem. They were just as informed as he.
There was a lengthy pause, during which he assumed they were discussing the issue with each other. Finally, a voice rang out, heavily distorted by randomizing software. “Work up your best case alternative, and send it to us for approval.”
“Understood.”
“Work fast, Agent Samuels.”
Or else, he added to himself. He cut the link.
He had already come up with a rough idea for an alternative plan, though he knew it would involve some risks they’d not planned for. The probability of exposure would increase, for one thing. As was a greater probability for outright failure.
Samuels resisted the urge to pick up the phone and lash out. He’d always hated that xeno director, even before this mess. Now, he wanted to see him suffer. But there was little enough he could do about it now, not while they still needed him.
CAIN GOT IN TOUCH WITH the first administrator’s office as soon as he left the meeting, informing the leader that the meeting had taken place, but offering no details. The administrator, accustomed to such subtle insubordination by now, didn’t push, and the conversation was over in two uncomfortable minutes.
Hanging up and driving on, Cain doubled back several times, making certain no spooks were behind him, before heading in the direction of his next meeting. This one, the first administrator knew nothing about. Nobody did.
It’d been a long time since they’d met face to face, but Cain recognized Andrw immediately. Right on time — impressive considering the fact that his entire movement was on the run. Like cockroaches.
Cain entered the shop and slid a few small bills into the first available vending machine, pulling out the credit slips and carrying them to the table. When he sat down, Andrw looked distinctly uncomfortable. This pleased Cain.
“No need for the small stuff, just fill me in on the big picture,” Cain huffed, not bothering with any pleasantries, “I know most of it anyway.”
Andrw looked around furtively until Cain snapped his fingers, forcing attention to the meeting at hand. Andrw began ticking off a laundry list of mostly mundane happenings in freevoland, from the escape Cain knew about, all the way up to the launch, which he also knew about. There were a few decent tidbits here and there, but nothing they hadn’t figured out from routine surveillance.
“What about the plans going forward? What do they intend to do?”
Andrw paused. “Well,” he said, “like you probably know, it’s all real up in the air right now.”
He looked scared. He knew his information wasn’t good enough. That meant he’d be quick to accept the new job. Still, Cain had no intention of making it easy on him.
“Where’s Liam right now?” he snapped. “What about the rest of the leaders?”
His mouth agape, the freevo turncoat had nothing to say. He wasn’t stupid enough to try a lie, so there was no answer that would suit the situation. Cain knew all of that, having intentionally set him up for discomfort.
“I’m wondering why it’s in our interests to have an asset in bed with the terrorists,” — his voice began a crescendo, intimidating from the start and growing from there — “if that asset can’t return us any useful information!”
The last word was shouted so powerfully it made Andrw jump. Cain allowed the rage to build up so that he felt like punching the other xeno square in the jaw, before relaxing and breaking into a cheshire-cat smile.
“I see we need to come up with a solution,” he stated, the sudden friendly tone throwing Andrw even more off-kilter, “wouldn’t you say so?”
Andrw could do nothing but stare and nod, looking the part of an abused pet.
“I thought so,” Cain continued, somehow dripping sarcasm while at the same time coming off as a good guy. “What we need to do now is give you a new assignment. Something you can handle. Something you can achieve. You follow?”
Andrw nodded again, scared and hopeful at the same time.
“Good! I knew you were on board.” Cain was leading him somewhere that would be impossible to reject, carefully working the shock of his instructions into the kindly banter. “So here’s what we’ll do, and this shouldn’t be too hard for a bright one such as yourself...what we’ll do is give you what I like to call an ‘eyes and ears’ assignment. Not bad?”
Andrw was silent, then his gaze sprang forward as he realized an answer was required. Thinking fast, he came up with, “Uh, yeah. Guess not.”
“Good! You won’t have to do anything new at all, not really. All we really need for you to do is to keep your long-term receptors on high alert. No need to memorize, or worry about details...”
Andrw must have known what the catch was, but was afraid to ask, so Cain plowed ahead and brought it up himself. “I see what you’re thinking. How are we going to retrieve it? That’s the beauty part — we’ll simply pull it out of your skull the next time you check in.” He smiled broadly, as though he’d just offered up a treat. “You don’t need to worry about anything!” He lowered his voice and leaned closer, “You are willing to do that for us now, aren’t you?”
Andrw’s guard was down. He had no energy left for defiance, and no way out. If he didn’t comply with the peace forcers, he’d be hunted down, and if he confided in the freevos, they’d cast him out. Or worse. The faustian bargain had already been struck, way back in the days of the great escape.
“I am,” he croaked, then he cleared his throat and tried again, “I’ll do it.”
“Good boy!” Cain blasted the praise in his loudest voice since the intimidation of a few minutes back. “Oh, and one more thing...” His voice was back down low again; conspiratorial lean, threatening gaze. “Leave the receptors on in that clubhouse of yours, too. What’s it called? Freedom Headquarters?”
Andrw looked like he was going to puke. The shock of sudden hopelessness was palpable, and Cain fed off it like an empty-bellied predator. He smiled again and sat back, stretching languidly into the booth, satisfied for now.
52.
The sun shone down on the spectators, mixing nicely with an ocean breeze that cooled them; the buzz of insects in search of food and mates mixed harmoniously with the human buzz that always accompanied major occasions.
The media was in a frenzy, reporters stationed at intervals, from the ‘cheap seats’ around the seawall, up to invitation-only viewing stands, covered only by the most senior correspondents. Vans and trucks bearing network logos parked haphazardly around the town, just far enough off the beaten path to avoid the eyes of street cops. Little platoons of support staffers lugged cameras and equipment to and fro, sweating profusely, while makeup artists worked to ensure that nothing similar might afflict the on-air talent.
Tourists, enthusiasts, and locals thronged the streets of the small town; one not quite capable of handling such volume. Every restaurant, coffee shop and bar was packed to the gills, adding to the festive atmosphere. On the streets, onlookers shuffled their way closer to the launch site. Most of them lacked any sort of access privilege. They would simply move forward until they were allowed no further, and that would be their viewing spot. Kids darted in and around the crowds and hung out on street corners. The bolder among them climbed trees, buildings, and seawalls to stake out prime spots. Crowd control police didn’t seem too concerned about getting them down, despite the danger a bunch of overhanging children might pose.
People crouched down and huddled around portable devices, trying to catch updates over the din, then quickly disseminating the details in a rush of excited chatter that rippled outward:
‘It’s a go.’
‘Twelve minutes and counting!’
‘Releasing the tethers momentarily. Can you see?’
<
br /> ‘Final checks are okay!’
The countdown swung into single digits, and the people began to count as one, along with the mission controller. They even seemed to be taking collective breaths. All eyes — and cameras — were on the stately rocket, swaying in response to the firing of it’s main thrusters. So it wasn’t particularly surprising that the details that followed were sketchy, even for the media crews. All anyone could say for sure was that just as the number ‘one’ hung in the air, the entire surrounding area erupted into the most violent chaos imaginable.
THE ROCKET HAD MANAGED to lift off, close to halfway up the length of the support structures by most accounts, before it lilted crazily and began a sickening, swirling dance around the pad. Then, in a slow-motion horror show, it skewed off in the direction of the onlookers. It was on the brink of smashing into thousands lining the shoreline when it was detonated, the work of a seasoned launch veteran who knew failure when he saw it.
This quick-thinking action saved numerous lives, but could do nothing to contain the panic that followed. The explosion occurred too close to the crowd. Loved ones were lost in the confusion, and terrified screams set off a crush of humanity, radiating out like a wave. The retreat turned lethal as hundreds, mostly children and the infirmed, were trampled underfoot by the mob. Police were powerless to contain the people; forced to step out of the way, or else move along with them. Then, in what was later determined as the failure of the quantum device, a second and larger explosion cracked the air — a fireball rose up from the crash site, its heat singing the backs of the people and further fueling their hysteria.
53.
Hate crimes against xenos, and their sympathizers, began in earnest in the weeks following the disaster. News reports indicated sabotage — most likely carried out by the free evolutionists, or their loyalists. There was no corroborating evidence, but Liam and Alixs were of the opinion that they were manufacturing something. Something damning, to be rolled out at a time of their choosing, in order to sway public opinion against the freevos once and for all.
What that evidence might be was unclear, but the clock was ticking, and the freevos had but a brief window in which to find some evidence of their own. There was no guarantee that the media would carry it, but it was the best chance they had.
In the meantime, not only freevos, but all xenos had to retreat — back to Tera-Prime, if they were able, or else underground. Outside the city, it was rare to see a xeno bearing a natural complexion any longer. Most of them had taken to disguising themselves, if they dared go out at all. This brought about a fresh frenzy of accusations, about the deception of those ‘scheming xenos’, and how they were finally showing their true colors.
In one high profile case, an influential executive was accosted on the street, and forced to submit to an invasive examination. It turned out he was exactly who he said he was, a human being, one with a job and a family. And a lawyer, at that. Only a quick, undisclosed settlement offer by the city kept the matter out of the courts and off the front page.
The fact that non-xenos were paying the price was a concern, but xenos largely took the blame for that as well. After all, if they weren’t being devious, there’d be no reason for the paranoia. Travel restrictions soon followed, and attorneys for the xeno collective took the fight to court, arguing that many were born under citizenship provisions. Things were unravelling fast.
THREE CHARRED XENO corpses were unearthed in the wreckage, two more cooked on the launch pad, ensconced in a zero-access, fully automated computer center where any number of failsafes could have been tampered with. Naturally, authorities didn’t know much yet. Just as naturally, the people began reaching their own conclusions. The formerly admired band of free evolutionists, who’d made such strides in public opinion, were being railroaded.
The official report was still months away, but leaks as to its focus and direction had already become internet fodder. And parallel, amateur investigations were quick to point out inconsistencies.
Back in Florida, the debate raged within the freevo community as well, but they had little time to dwell on speculative matters. They were all prime suspects, and had to get out of the state. Unable to travel in groups, they split up to embark on the lonely path of escape, with vague plans to regroup somewhere down the road. The situation was grimmer than it’d ever been. It was even darker than in the early days, back in Tera-Prime — they at least had their fair share of allies back then. Now they were nothing but terrorists; reviled in the eyes of most humans, and a good number of their brethren as well.
“IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT,” Alixs told his mentor as they made their way north. “You couldn’t have known what they were up to.”
“Maybe,” Liam answered, his voice as flat as his affect. “Guess we’ll never know. But I should’ve made sense of it, though. It was stupid of me not to see—”
“Nobody saw it, Liam. Nobody.”
Liam said nothing. They rode together a while in silence, ducking low every time they passed a vehicle. They would stay together until they reached the border. Any further would be too dangerous for a pair.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” Alixs said quietly.
“At least now we know what they’re capable of,” Liam answered, slow and methodical now, like he was thinking it through. “That’s important. And we’re going to have to do some things, now. Some things we never thought we’d do.”
“I know.” Alixs didn’t want to think about that. He was well aware what was coming. Knew it the moment he saw that rocket flare up and begin to spin. In that instant, so much had become clear.
“We’ll make it, Liam.”
“I hope so.”
It pained Alixs to see his mentor so broken. Although they were riding together now, a leader protecting his last soldier, Liam needed someone he could rely on, too. Not just someone who needed protection.
“I know so,” Alixs reassured him. “I’ve got a second chance now. I aim to make the most of it.”
Liam looked pleased at Alixs’ words, though the burden of leadership still wracked his weary features. Alixs was really starting to worry about him. But then again, he was worried about them all.
Phase III ~ Xenogenesis
54.
“Toll road!” the man in the passenger seat called out, prompting the monitor behind the wheel to navigate the vehicle back into the switch lane. Third one so far, he told himself, checking the mirror before easing back over to join the fast cars.
Twice more they attempted to access an expressway, and twice more they were thwarted by the toll sign. Toll Road was something of a misnomer in this region, as the actual toll was never paid. It was far too expensive for any common lanehopper. The ones who made use of such roads did so through their homeowners association — or a related partner association if they were out oftowners — enjoying a substantial discount on their otherwise unaffordable access passes.
These passes weren’t available to the general public, either, so in essence the term ‘toll road’ had been casually overlaid on what should have been more properly termed a ‘private way’. Such was the way of things in the suburbs, and more and more in the cities as well, though it was near impossible to restrict access entirely in such a densely packed cluster. The suburbs, though, belonged to the privileged.
Gated communities had given way to gated towns, and finally to gated regions, though it was more like a series of gated towns all linked together in common interest. The toll road concept, which had originally linked only those gated towns to each other, eventually spidered out to encompass most recreational destinations, and any goods and service centers one might wish to visit.
As the concept grew in popularity, the most desirable restaurants, shops, and regional attractions all pulled up roots and relocated right alongside the roads themselves, behind the great gates. Though still ostensibly open to the public, there was no reasonable way to get to them. Not without being a wealthy landowner or an employee, s
o that those places, in turn, became all but private businesses.
What was left for the masses consisted of lingering fast food joints and strip-malls, and whatever downtown establishments that still managed to keep their doors open. Over time, businesses and city services, even essential ones like clinics and hospitals, opened up outposts within the tolls. Then the branches grew into full-service, then into main branches, and finally headquarters. The whole of white-collar America, walled off behind gates and tolls.
All of this was unimportant in the ordinary run of things. Life went on much as before. Things were in many ways better for the lower classes, given the explosive economic conditions the xenos had provided. They had plenty of food, impressive living spaces, and non-stop entertainment — all of it practically free, and widely available, if you were lucky enough to be born in areas that accepted xeno tech. Even medical concerns, what with the targeted medicines and nano repair ‘bots running through fortunate veins, had become an I.T. offshoot, available to all, in many ways evening out the playing field. But status issues were still prevalent, including of course the best right-of-ways. This made for slow going when you were destitute and on the run.
Thirty minutes past the last toll, they found an open-access expressway and were able to get moving at a decent clip. Then they threw it into full-cruise and were able to spend a little time getting to know each other.
“...still and all, I’m glad I got hooked up with the freep when I did. Best decision I ever made.” This was the road monitor, taking eyes off and calling back to his passengers in the rear, in an effort to ease their discomfort.
“That so?” replied one of the passengers, the skittish looking one with the sharp features. His companion remained silent.
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