Freedom Incorporated

by Peter Tylee

  *

  Michele examined her cheek in the mirror and splashed soothing water over her developing bruise. Fuck you Esteban. Nobody slaps me.She stared at her reflection, watching as the red patch turned darker. Damn. It was going to require a thick layer of makeup to conceal properly.

  I’ve had it with you.Michele may have possessed below average intelligence, but she had cunning to make up for deficient schooling and lack of mental aptitude. And cunning was all she needed to concoct her plan. She leant closer to the mirror, stared directly into her pupils, and wondered what mysteries lay in the dark pools. She stood mesmerised for several minutes before abruptly tearing her gaze away, her plan fully baked. She strode through the hauntingly empty corridors and slammed her office door, shutting herself off from the rest of the world. Then she logged onto her computer and launched her accounting software.

  He underestimates me.

  Esteban didn’t think Michele knew how to transfer money from one account to another, but she did. He’ll see.She’d already set an account up to receive the money. It was simple. She just clicked the transfer button, selected the from-account, selected the to-account, and confirmed that – yes – she did want to proceed. She double-checked the numbers before clicking initiate and then carefully read the generated report. The transfer was successful.

  That’s my half.She wasn’t going to fall into the greed trap, proving she had some basic intelligence that several intellectuals lacked. Besides, the other half was bait to trap Esteban. What was the point of sinking with the ship? Dan’s going to kill him anyway.She had no doubt about that, she just wanted to land on the winning side of the scuffle. And that means…

  She picked up the phone and dialled.

  “Yes?”

  “Hi Jackie, it’s Michele.”

  That’s what the display told me.“What can I do for you Michele?” She appreciated Michele’s body but would have to find someone else if she wanted a platonic relationship.

  “I’ve got a problem.”

  Yeah, I know… it’s called stupidity.“What’s that?”

  “It’s Esteban. And Dan Sutherland. In fact, it’s the whole situation. I think we need to talk.”

  “But you told me-”

  “Yes I… uh, wasn’t entirely forthcoming.” I lied. Michele regretted that now. “I’m sorry about that. Esteban wanted me to cover for him, but I think he’s out of control.”

  Jackie sighed into the phone. “Okay, then we’d better schedule a meeting.”

  “How about now?” Michele didn’t want to waste time, especially not with Dan lurking somewhere, ready to snatch her from the shadows and send her into the afterlife.

  “No, I’m in the middle of something; it’ll have to wait for an hour.” Her day was shaping into a nightmare of mammoth proportions. She had to remind herself hourly that it wouldcome to and end. Eventually she’d be snug under her bedcovers and could put it all in the past, but even that offered only trivial comfort.

  Michele didn’t argue. If Jackie said she was busy, then she was busy. At least she’d done her reporting duty – Jackie now knew the situation was turning sour.

  “Stay in your office, I’ll call when I’m ready.” Jackie hung up.

  Okay.Michele’s kidneys were tingling and her heart was fluttering at 180 beats per minute. It made her feel faint and she willed herself to relax, taking several deep breaths. Now I wait.

  *

  Sunday, September 19, 2066

  International Portal Terminals

  7:56Sydney, Australia

  “Four minutes till I’m off, man.” Chuck was just itching to bolt. He was tired, hungry and in desperate need of a shower. Worst of all, he’d been suppressing a bowel movement for the past 20 minutes and would soil his underwear if he waited much longer. He couldn’t go early though, not even to the men’s room. The supervisor would grumble about dereliction of duties and dock him pay. If it’d been possible, Chuck would’ve bogged earlier in the night. The supervisor didn’t mind that, but leaving his post toward the end of his shift would be a serious mistake.

  No emotion seeped from Dan’s stony mask. “That’s good.” It was the most subdued statement he’d uttered all night and Chuck wondered what weighed so heavily on his friend’s mind. But he knew better than to ask, Dan had the soldier-returning-from-a-particularly-bloody-battle look about him. He felt dirty and tired, but refused to take the next dose of ‘power-pills’ until he was ready to storm Esteban’s fort. And for that, I need help.

  Chuck tagged Dan’s weapons and noticed one missing. “Where’s your ray-gun?”

  He shrugged. “What does it matter?”

  “The program’s gonna ask, that’s all.” Chuck jerked a thumb at his monitor. “It doesn’t like unaccounted weapons, especially on frequent travellers. If you’d been gone a month it wouldn’t care, but it’s only been a couple of hours.”

  “Somebody stole it,” Dan replied, remembering how the PortaNet guards had drooled over his pulse-emitter. He hoped they’d enjoyed it; they’d probably all lose their jobs when someone walked into Adrian Miller’s office and found bloodstains and bullet holes, evidence of murder. They’ll identify the blood belongs to Adrian and quickly start asking questions.But Dan had been meticulously careful to ensure there was no forensic evidence linking him to the killing. He’d left no fingerprints or DNA and the guards would only be able to give a rough description. But physical descriptions meant little. The police would seek the owner of the microchip, Tedman Kennedy. And they won’t get far.He wondered whether anyone in the Guild would be human enough to deliver Adrian’s body to his family for a proper funeral.

  “All right.” Chuck sighed, looked furtively over his shoulder, and squared the records in the system. “All taken care of.”

  “Thanks Chuck.” He took his remaining weapons and stowed them in their usual places. “Get some rest for me too, okay?”

  “You mean you’re still not finished?” Christopher asked, astonished. He wondered how much abuse Dan’s body could take; everyone had limits and Dan was no exception.

  “Not yet.” Dan’s eyes hardened. “There’s just one more thing I have to do.”

  “Okay.” Then Chuck lowered his voice and added, “When you come back, use gate eight. He’s a rookie so he won’t know your real name.”

  “Rookie? Won’t that mean he’ll be paying more attention?” Dan’s eyebrows fused over the bridge of his nose.

  “You’d think so, but between you, me, and the rest of the guys here, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

  Dan nodded. “Got it.” His next stop was the portal station in the Parramatta business district, just one block from the police station. He found a public phone and dug Simon’s number from his wallet, as usual refraining from paying extra for the video component. Only lovers used video. Who wanted to see their colleagues at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning? It was unlikely to be pretty. Overall, videophone was more trouble than it was worth.

  “Yeah?” He sounded groggy. Few people used their names when answering the telephone. It invited too much trouble from unleashed telemarketers. That was the problem with having a person’s every purchase itemised against his or her microchip: it was a statistician’s dream and a marketing department’s orgasm, but it made profiling too easy and shat on civil liberties.

  “Simon? It’s Dan.”

  “Oh hi mate.” He was obviously trying to clear his head. He’d only had four and a half hours sleep.

  Guilt crowded Dan’s thoughts and he wished he didn’t need Simon’s help, but knew he’d fail without backup. “You busy today?”

  “I told you to call me, didn’t I? What’s happened? Where are you?”

  “I’m in Parramatta,” Dan replied cautiously, wondering whether even that was too much information to give over the telephone. “I’ll tell you what’s happened when you get here.”

  “Okay, where’ll you be?”

  “In the portal station,” Dan replied. “
Out the front.”

  “Give me 20 minutes.” He hung up, presumably to take a shower and shovel breakfast into his mouth.

  Food was also high on Dan’s agenda and he paid for a small bag of biscuits from a nearby stall. The biscuits were the only quasi-breakfast product that the vendor hadn’t deep-fried and Dan unenthusiastically crunched the time away until Simon turned up.

  “Hmm… they look wholesome.” Simon had chosen to wear jeans and a loose cotton shirt, less conspicuous than the suits he usually wore and more practical in combat. He’d also tied a warm grey training top around his waist in preparation for the frigid northern hemisphere if that’s where they were going.

  “You want some?” Dan offered the bag.

  “Hell no.” Simon held up his hands. “I’m trying to trim down, remember? That stuff wouldn’t do me any favours.”

  Dan shrugged and tossed the remaining biscuits in the bin. “I killed Adrian Miller.” He’d practiced that statement so often in his head that it came out with callous indifference rather than the gravity he’d wanted. He’d been examining his feelings about it since pulling the trigger. It wasn’t the first time he’d shot someone, but in the past it’d always been in the heat of battle, never in cold blood. But this wasn’t cold blood; it was… warm blood.There’d been plenty of provocation; billions of men would’ve done the same under the circumstances. He’d expected to feel guilt, remorse, or… something. But he didn’t. He didn’t feel relief or liberation either, nor did he feel as if he’d served justice. Adrian’s death had affected him no more than if he’d squashed a bug under his boot. Dan had hoped for relief. Perhaps I need to kill the others first – Esteban Garcia Valdez and Frank Albert Hansen. Maybe then I’ll find relief.But then he remembered PortaNet. And if he somehow survived that, he still had to keep his promise to Hans. Peace, it seemed, was nowhere in sight.

  “What happened?” Simon asked in a low voice, urging Dan to walk. It was safer that way; there was less chance somebody could eavesdrop.

  “I got the portal information,” Dan said, trying to feel proud of something.

  “Oh, the… uh… MAC address was it?” Simon had as much difficulty remembering the details as Dan.

  “Yeah, but Adrian called it a SAT.” The emptiness in Dan’s stomach was slowly expanding to consume him. “Then I killed him.”

  Simon approached the subject as tactfully as curiosity would allow. “He struggled?”

  “No.” Dan frowned. “That’s the bizarre part, he was being helpful.”

  “But he killed Katherine,” Simon prompted.

  “Yeah.” The numbness was exacting an emotional toll. It left sadness in its wake and Dan knew it would affect his performance. “So I couldn’t let him live.”

  Simon could see the damage it was causing Dan and shrank from the prospect of facing such a decision himself. “So now what?”

  “Well…” Dan swept his dishevelled thoughts aside. If he were alive later, he’d sort through them then. “I expect there’ll be up to 20 men. They’re holding her in a place called the Guild, along with a number of other women.”

  Simon whistled softly. That many?“Damn.”

  “Yeah, damn,” Dan echoed. “And let’s not forget the portal ride is dicey.” He stopped, turned, and looked at Simon. “What are yougoing to do?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, suspicious that Dan was giving him the chance to pull out.

  “Slime, you have a lot to live for. I don’t. It’s okay that I’m risking my life to save Jen – it’s my fault she’s there in the first place. But you don’t have to. In fact, I don’t think you should.” Then he mumbled, more to himself than anybody else, “It’s bloody suicide.”

  “Are you trying to insult me?”

  “No, I’m serious. It’s something you have to think about.”

  “Well I have, damn it. And I told you to call me, didn’t I?” He waited for Dan to nod before saying, “So stop this nonsense. I’m in. Okay? All the way.” Simon remembered the times Dan had risked his life in order to save him. Back then, Dan had had plenty to live for, but it hadn’t stopped him from sticking his neck out – twice. Simon had been waiting five years to return the favour, and here was his chance. He certainly didn’t intend to shirk the opportunity to repay the debt.

  “Okay.” Dan gulped a deep breath. “Then we’re going back to Holland.”

  “Hang on.” Simon reeled him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Adrian had access to this place, right?”

  Oh fuck… how am I going to explain this?Dan nodded, delaying the inevitable.

  “Then you got his chip, right?” It curdled Simon’s blood to think about it, but the most sensible thing would’ve been for Dan to rip Adrian’s spine from his body.

  “Actually, no. I sent him through the portal.”

  “Where to?”

  “To the Guild.” It sounded stupid now. Saving Adrian’s chip would’ve spared Simon the five percent risk of a collision when travelling through Hans’s portal.

  “What?” Simon asked incredulously.

  “Well, I was angry,” Dan said hesitantly, trying to explain something he didn’t understand himself. “So I stripped off his shirt and wrote ‘you’re next’ on his chest before sending him through.”

  “Have I ever said you’re insane?”

  “A couple of times, yes.”

  “Well I’ll do it again – you’re fucking crazy Dan. Now they know we’re coming!”

  “No, they know I’mcoming. They think I’m alone. Besides, they knew I was coming already and now they can account for Adrian’s chip. If they thought he was dead but couldn’t find it they’d be even more alert.”

  Simon snorted. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re nuts.”

  “Good,” Dan said, marching for the portals. “Because we’ve gotta be nuts to do this.”

  *

  Saturday, September 18, 2066

  UniForce Headquarters

  14:25San Francisco, USA

  Esteban slapped a hand on his desk. Of course!He pounced on his keyboard. If Dan was in the building then I should be able to…He accessed PortaNet’s database, lamenting the fact that Adrian’s back door would soon collapse. PortaNet would seal it as soon as they examined Adrian’s computer and discovered what he’d done. And that means things’ll get harder.He sighed in frustration.Back to the old fashioned way.Tracking somebody was so much easier when you could see where he or she was zapping through the portals.

  His search didn’t take long. There!Only one Tedman Kennedy had portaled into UniForce headquarters that day. Now I know which one you are… you’re fucked.He reworked the grip on his pistol and fed the identity back through PortaNet’s database, intent on turning the hunt around. He was tired of waiting for Sutherland to turn up, plucking off his team one by one. Esteban wanted to hunt too. According to PortaNet, he was in Sydney. Parramatta to be exact.But while Esteban watched, Tedman Kennedy portaled to the Sydney International terminal. Where’re you going now, Sutherland?

  He slouched into his chair, getting comfortable for the wait. He wasn’t going to budge until he was sure where Sutherland was heading. At least I have a clear advantage again.The tension slowly drained from his body and he relaxed for the first time since discovering Sutherland had switched identities.

  Chapter 11

  The empire is global. There is nowhere to go to escape its corrosive barrenness.

  John Zerzan

  Saturday, September 18, 2066

  23:42Groningen, The Netherlands

  Dan knocked harder. “God, we’re going to wake the neighbourhood.”

  “Maybe they found him? He could be dead…” Simon preferred to suggest the worst. That way, things frequently turned out better than he expected.

  “Don’t even joke,” Dan said sternly. If that were true, he’d lost his chance to free Jen forever. He’d been relying on Hans’s portal. Maybe that was a mistake? Oh, bugger! I should’ve taken Adrian’s flamin’ chip.r />
  But Han’s put him out of his misery when he opened the door and said, “What do you do here this time of night?”

  “Sorry,” Simon mumbled.

  “Yeah, me too,” Dan echoed. “It’s morning in Australia and afternoon in America.” It was just unfortunate for Hans that it couldn’t be daytime everywhere. Portals made things such as sleep inconvenient when someone was trying to co-ordinate affairs across several time zones. “We have that code you needed.”

  Hans was wearing pyjamas and had to hold his trousers up lest the faded elastic slip from his bony waist. They were chequered brown and blue flannelette, perfect for the approaching winter. “What… now?”

  “I have a friend waiting for me,” Dan explained. “Can we come in?”

  Hans looked reluctant but admitted them anyway, and then excused himself to pull on some tracksuit pants.

  When he returned, Dan handed him the slip of paper. “That’s the code, he called it a SAT.”

  “It looks valid,” Hans said in his Dutch accent. He plonked it on his workbench in the second bedroom while Dan and Simon huddled at the door. “Who is this friend of yours?”

  “Her name’s Jen,” Dan replied, wondering whether she was still alive. He hoped his message hadn’t spooked Esteban into killing her. “She’s a prisoner.”

  Hans stopped what he was doing and scowled. “You mean… this is a gaol break?”

  “No, no.” Dan shook his head. “She’s been kidnapped.”

  “Oh, that is okay then.” Hans kept working. “Who kidnapped her?”