“How ‘bout you folks, how’d you get in with free evolution?”
The quiet one shot a warning glance at his friend, who looked about to start giving details. “Usual story,” he mumbled, clearly disappointed at the missed opportunity.
“Oh, every story’s the usual one. It’s the details that’s interesting. Ain’t that right, Tex?”
The front seat passenger, ‘Tex’, nodded and reached down to a cooler by his feet, pulling out a cola and popping it. The runoff threatened to spill over, and the monitor gave a warning growl.
Sipping quickly, the passenger averted the faux pas and chugged about half of his drink for good measure, then belched.
“Can’t say as we’ve had many dealings with genuine xenos, though.”—the monitor was talking to the back seat again—“This is a real privilege for us.”
The two in the backseat looked at each other, perhaps deciding how much they were willing to reveal. Their xeno heritage wasn’t obvious in their appearance. Yet through rumor, hint, or wild guess, the monitor knew who they were.
The quiet one spoke for the first time. “We’d rather not discuss that, if you don’t mind. But we’d love to hear how you two got involved.”
The invitation opened up the floodgates. The monitor began droning on about his early interest in xeno culture and his love for technology. How in his twenties he began to learn more about xeno lore, and the underground movement to advance their evolution. How in his thirties he became something of an expert on the subject, and began to seek out relationships with people who shared similar interests. And now, in his forties, how he had become an official ally to the cause, pledging his support, pitching in wherever he could. How devastated he’d been when the failure of quantum leap turned them from suspect into enemy. Which brought them to today, and the request to transport a couple of ‘friends of ours’ over the border.
THE MONITOR’S BACKSTORY occupied him for the better part of the trip, and by the time he was finished, they were preparing themselves for the meeting. The freevos used that as an excuse to close off conversation with the front. Cautious as ever, they discussed only the preliminaries — seating arrangements, how much time to allot for each segment, who should speak when — nothing that could be used against them if one of their chaperones turned out to be a cop. There was a nationwide dragnet out for them, and if their sources were to be believed, they were high-value targets. The only thing that had saved them thus far was the fact that they were being sought in secret, and their faces weren’t yet plastered on every post office wall from here to the border. But they were well aware that could change. In the meantime, caution was the word of the day, every day.
They got to the meeting place a few minutes early, and left their companions to wait in the car. They used the extra time to put out the refreshments. Once the table was properly set, they stood side by side behind their chairs and discussed the real agenda. Even in such a private environment, they kept their voices low, with information held to a minimum.
“Tyson intends to give us only what we already know,” the quiet xeno told his partner. “We’ll need to draw him out.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You get him to elaborate, then I’ll take the initiative. He’s got to admit his government’s role in the coverup, that’s the main objective. After that, we give him the offer.”
“And you think he’ll take it?”
“He will. He’s not stupid.”
TYSON, AS BEFITTED a former Second Administrator of Tera-Prime, arrived with a fair amount of pomp and circumstance. Security types burst in, sweeping the room for bugs and bombs. An advance team came next, its leader insisting that all the table arrangements be switched up more to his liking. Just trying to throw us off, the quiet one thought, indicating that his colleague should remain where he was and stay calm.
Finally, a third wave entered the room; Tyson himself, surrounded by a pack of advisors, all of whom were checking mobile devices and note pads.
“Administrator Tyson, how nice to finally meet you in person,” the quiet one said. “Welcome. Please have a seat.”
He motioned toward the place they’d set out for him, but Tyson took a different one, not across the table, but to one side instead. It was difficult to know whether this was done in order to make the meeting seem more intimate, or simply as another ploy to throw off their game. Either way, it was obvious that this man liked to shake things up and make his importance known.
55.
“Thank you for coming,” the quiet xeno said to Tyson. “My name is Liam, and this is my associate, Elek.”
The politician nodded first to Elek, then Liam. He made no effort to introduce any of his men.
“I’m afraid you have us at a disadvantage,” Liam continued, “we weren’t expecting so many”—he looked around the room—“guests.”
With a glance, Tyson dismissed all but three of his people, whom he motioned to their places at the table. Most hurried from the room, cross-checking their devices and mumbling to each other, all except for the security team. Unmoving, they looked reluctant.
“It’s alright,” Tyson said, “we’re among friends.” His browline bunched up almost imperceptibly as he added a sharp, “Wait outside”, which carried enough emphasis to force them out.
The three remaining staffers filled the three positions Liam and Elek had set out, and the gamesmanship was complete.
ELEK AND LIAM’S OWN escorts noticed the gaggle of suits, who just moments ago had pulled up and filed in en masse, coming back out just as quickly. Most of them, at least. It was difficult to tell without a head count.
Tex turned to his partner and said, “Looks like they’s got kicked out, eh Jimmy? Think they’re none too happy about it?”
Jimmy the wheel monitor reached under his seat, fished around, and came back with a gun. Carefully holding it below the sight-line of his window, he cocked it and set it within easy reach. “Dunno,” he answered plain, “but be ready.”
Tex nodded, retracting his seatbelt and flipping up the hood of his God’s Army sweatshirt.
“...SO AS MUCH AS I’D LOVE to help you, I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss such things. Security purposes, you know.”
“Now wait just a second!” Elek burst out. Eager to prove himself, he completely ignored a warning glare from Liam. “You agreed to meet with us because you said you had information that we could use. Now you’re telling us you can’t discuss—”
Elek was cut off by Liam’s raised hand.
“Thank you,” Tyson said to Liam, “I was wondering when you were going to reign him in.”
“His question is fair,” Liam replied, “and I’d like to hear the answer as well.”
“The answer is,” Tyson said slowly, relaxing back into his chair, “that you’re not asking the right questions.”
“What questions are those?” Elek felt Liam’s increasing annoyance even without looking, but he didn’t care.
Ignoring the outburst, Tyson continued staring straight at Liam.
“What can we do for you, Mr. Tyson?” Liam asked.
Elek was ready for a fight, he was so agitated. And now Liam’s placating this guy?
“Thank you,” Tyson said. With a glance at his colleagues, they too were dismissed, and they stood up to leave as Liam turned to Elek.
“No way...” Elek began to protest. but Liam leaned in close.
“It’s alright,” he whispered, “you did fine. Go outside and wait for me.”
Elek huffed and slammed the table as he pushed himself up, but he obeyed his mentor, walking out without further comment.
FROM THE CAR, THE ESCORTS watched with increasing interest as three more suits emerged from the building.
“Can’t be too many of ‘em left in there,” Tex muttered.
Jimmy dropped his hand, which had been hovering over the weapon, and allowed his arm to relax. The whole bunch of them were simply milling around, presenting no threat, an
d the three new ones joined up with their gaggle of compatriots. Only the security guards remained vigilant, looking around and back at the door, and a couple times moving a bit closer to get a look at Tex and Jimmy in the car.
Then one more came out, it took a few seconds to register that it was Elek. He strode toward his escorts in the car, then stopped, turned back, and kicked a door-side garbage can, hard enough to knock it up against the wall. This prompted two of the security guards to move in closer, but Elek was finished with his tantrum. Moving fast and ignoring everyone around him, he made for the car and didn’t stop until he was beside them. Jimmy popped the lock and the automatic door swung open to receive him, but he stayed outside.
Rolling down the window, Jimmy called out. “Anything I can do, boss?”
Elek shook his head, seeming to realize suddenly that he wasn’t alone. He got in the car in a daze. Breathing heavily, he was thoroughly out of sorts, and the two up front were smart enough to remain quiet.
“WHAT DO I WANT?” TYSON repeated, in a thoughtful tone. “Well, let’s start with this...I want a piece of the action.”
“Meaning?” Liam had an idea of where this might be going, but he needed to hear it for himself before making a commitment.
“Meaning I can see the shifting sands, and I don’t want to be left out.”
“You want to be involved in our cause?” Liam asked.
“Oh, God no!” he protested, shaking his head vigorously. “Believe me, that’s the last thing I want.”
“What then?”
“I want to be involved after your cause. Assuming, of course, that your intentions become reality. Which is a very big assumption, I have to say.”
“So you’re hedging your bets, then.”
“Exactly.” Tyson reached out and scooped a small handful of chocolate drops from the bowl Elek had set out. He tossed half the handful in his mouth, a closed fist wrapped around the rest.
“I want in on the escape, assuming you ever manage to pull it off, for myself and a select group of my choosing. After you finish fighting your war.”
“I can do that,” Liam acknowledged, a little slowly, “but first I need to know what you’re offering.”
“Like I said, you have to ask the right questions.”
“Who sabotaged the launch?”
“Wrong question!” shouted Tyson, tossing the rest of the candy down onto an empty plate. Liam noticed that his hands were immaculate, not even the tiniest stain. Even so, he leaned forward and plucked a napkin from the holder, cleaning carefully. Then he relaxed again, but the smile was gone.
“What do we need to know?” Liam asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.
“That’s better,” Tyson said, suddenly calmer. “What would you say if I told you there was a Plan B?”
Liam strained to keep any hint of shock out of his expression, and motioned for Tyson to continue.
“What if I told you there was a second launch site, a second quantum enabler, and a second rocket just waiting for the go ahead?”
Liam blew out the large volume of air that was simply too much to contain. This changed everything.
“Well? What would you say to that, my friend?”
“I’d say,” Liam said slowly, reaching out to shake Tyson’s hand, “that you’ve got yourself a deal.”
56.
A xeno of action, Director Cain loathed the tedium of sitting at a desk — all that silence, filling out meaningless forms, checking off meaningless lists and writing meaningless reports. But there was one exception to prove the rule, that being his the necessary legwork for his own pet projects. This was deskwork that he never reassigned or farmed out, if only for the simple pleasure he derived from seeing his efforts come to fruition under his own hand.
Putting aside the last of his regular work, the director launched into the personal research he actually enjoyed. He began with an examination of news sites, in search of two articles in particular. The first; Prison Stabbing Leaves One Dead, was notable for two reasons. There was the fact that the deceased was of human origin, in a facility populated mostly by xeno inmates. That wasn’t odd unto itself, but the fact that this inmate was also killed while under protective custody stood out as well. Two odd facts made for an interesting story, and Cain wasn’t the least bit surprised it had surfaced. He wasn’t particularly concerned about it, either, until he reached the bottom of the page.
Reading on, a burning rage begin to build up, enough that Cain had to use a calming technique in order to read on. The reason for his anger had to do with the direct link from the first article to Apparent Suicide of Prison Administrator, two incidents that should never have been linked.
This was completely unacceptable, but the damage was done. Cain took several calming breaths. All the while thinking of who to punish for this oversight. At least the job is taken care of, he thought. They’d gotten that much right. His resources in security were infinitely more competent than those in the media. As much as he hated casual screw-ups like this, he hated loose ends all the more. He calmed himself further, enough to initiate a civil conversation, then called up his contact at the ICNN site to straighten this out. When he checked back a half-hour later, the two articles were disconnected.
LATE IN THE DAY, FOLLOWING the last of his meetings and video conferences and ceremonial chores, when the office din faded and most of the staff had gone home, First Administrator Rois found himself examining headlines as well. His reaction was somewhat different from his director of internal security, given the fact that he’d purposely avoided gaining knowledge of the particulars. He was satisfied to see that the job was done.
He didn’t take any real pleasure in extreme solutions. Not like his bloodthirsty director. No, Rois was a pragmatist. It had to be done, so he’d given the go-ahead, but there was no joy in it. No sense of satisfaction. Just like he took no pleasure in solving his terrorist problem. He would go ahead with the plan if it served him, if the free evolutionists drove him to it, and if he was certain he could get away with it. But he’d never enjoy it.
As for the articles being linked, he noticed that as well, but didn’t react in any meaningful way. It wasn’t an ideal outcome, but he knew that Cain would see to the details. If there was one strength that had seen the first administrator through most of his difficulties in the political arena, it was his ability to select the right subordinate for the job.
He didn’t have to like them. In fact, he never judged his appointments on how well they got along with others, unless it was a vital aspect of their function. There were surprisingly few positions that required such tact, by and large — those being mostly minor roles like social directors or community outreach liaisons, ‘friendly face jobs’, as he called them. But the bulk of his administration consisted of bullies and abusers, and he welcomed their abusive capabilities. Rois knew that he would never have to check up on Cain’s work. And that was key. Well beyond any concerns of personality and tact. And that was why, even after noticing problems such as with the articles, he never pointed them out, and he never double checked. He didn’t have to.
57.
Elim and Sam took separate routes to the prison, then found each other outside the visitor’s entrance. They presented letter-perfect credentials, verifying their claim as legal aids engaged in a consultation.
When the prisoner appeared, eyes darting every which way before landing on the ‘law students’, they presented their cover story and waited. They had to see if he could pass information without compromising himself.
“What you’re asking about, that was a long time ago, a really long time,” he said, his words rattling out in bursts. “I’m not sure I can remember so clear.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Elim encouraged, attempting to reassure the man with calm face and even tone.
“Okay, well first off, I’m innocent. I was set up by these two other guys. Real heavy hitters, you know?”
They reacted as they’d bee
n instructed, nodding and scratching nonsense on legal pads, while listening for the true particulars. These they would relate back to Liam.
“And those guys didn’t just set me up, they were going after whole bunches of people. Whole races, know what I mean?”
His eyes grew wider as he emphasized the term, at the same time jerking his chin first at Sam, then Elim.
He knows. Sam cleared his throat, which startled Elim.
“Um, okay,” Sam said. “What else happened. After the set up, I mean.”
“Not much more to tell, really. I was on to the setup, so I made like I was going to rat, and they gave me what I asked for to keep my mouth shut. But, thing is, them two are out of the picture now.”
“Out of the picture how?” Sam asked. Elim would’ve kicked him under the table if he wasn’t so worried about who might be watching.
“They quit,” he said quickly, covering like a pro. “Workin’ someplace else, I guess.”
“Due to the circumstances of your incarceration,”—Elim dashed off the memorized script Liam had concocted—“and given the fact that our employer was involved in your case, he’s instructed us to assist you in any way we can. So, what can we do for you today?”
The inmate grinned, but it was mirthless. “You can get me the hell out of here, for starters. But I’m gonna need a little more than that.”
GETTING PRISONER 785CVB, Charles ‘Lucky Chuck’ Burk, out of his Southwest Texas penitentiary, proved more difficult than expected. Sam and Elim sent the unsurprising request back to Liam, and Liam got his team to work, handling the logistics from behind the scenes. According to their sources, Burk should have been released months ago, but his paperwork had gotten held up.
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