Heaven's River

by Dennis E. Taylor

  But we didn't have a lot of options. Not bothering to comment, I leapt for the first hold and began hauling myself up. I could hear Hugh following me. I could also hear the pings of flechettes bouncing off the wall. None had struck me yet, but I couldn't tell about my backpack. Would the flechettes penetrate the material? Would they harm the matrix?

  With a snarl, I redoubled my efforts and popped over the top of the wall. I had a few moments of peace while the shooters concentrated their fire on Hugh. A few muttered curses showed he'd been hit. I thought I saw a way up to a nearby second-floor window, but I wouldn’t know for sure until I was closer. Banging from street level made it clear that our pursuers were trying to get into the building whose roof we were currently occupying. We needed to be elsewhere. It was not the time for subtlety.

  I hit the wall to the next building, grabbed a few handholds, then pulled myself up using the window sill. The window was partly open and I butted the frame upward with my head, then pulled myself in. I spared a second to admire the athleticism of the Mannies. No Quinlan - or human - would've managed that feet. We were further advertising our existence by doing this, but I didn't see an alternative.

  There was a thump as Hugh rolled in behind me. We were in a bedroom, but there didn't appear to be any occupants. I open the door and we snuck down the hall, trying to avoid any creaky boards. This appeared to be a rooming house. The second floor consisted of nothing but bedrooms and a bathroom. We tiptoed down the stairs at the end of the hall and peered around the corner at the bottom.

  What I supposed must be a common room took up the back half of the ground floor. There were four Quinlans sitting in chairs all apparently sleeping. It would've been quite innocent, except one of the sleepers was slumped over in the most uncomfortable manner.

  “I think they've been knocked out,” I said.

  “The fog?”

  “Yeah. I think there's a Scattering going on.”

  “While I agree this is likely how they do a Scattering, but I think they're after us, Bob.”

  “We have to get out of here.”

  There was a back door in a small antechamber. I opened didn't peered both ways. Nothing. We exited carefully, closed the door and ran across the street and around the nearest corner, right into a group of mask-wearing Quinlans.

  We barreled into the group before we could stop or change direction. After that it was just a matter of them getting their hands on us and holding on. I felt myself being pulled in several directions at once, and I realized I was going to have to really hurt people.

  Then, several grips disappeared with cries of chagrin.

  “Get going, Bob. I got this,” Hugh yelled as he wrapped his arms around several more of our attackers. I realize he was deliberately taking on the whole group. And it was working. I was down to two or three holds. A few twists, a gut punch, and I was free. I grabbed a loose gone and stuck in my mouth. It seemed like a waste of time, since I'd had to get rid of the last one, but maybe I can figure something out.

  I dropped to all fours and sprinted down the nearest alley, determined to go right through anyone who got in my path.

  “Remember the fail-safe, Hugh,” I said over the intercom.

  “If it comes to that, Bob, but I may be able to talk my way out of this. Meanwhile, get Bender out of here.”

  “Talk his way out?”

  I remembered my time with Natasha and company. More likely, he’d end up wayyy too intimate with a sharp object. But I had to get to the station.

  I had a funny feeling that going straight West was going to involve dodging more Quinlans and masks. I glanced up, got my bearings, and adjusted my course to head for the hills.

  28. Claiming Victory

  Bill

  September 2334

  Virt

  I gave a blat with the air horn, and the mass of Bobs gradually quieted to a ragged rumble. There would be no total quiet though, if I was reading this crowd right.

  “Okay. A couple of reps from Starfleet will be here.” I had to wait several mils for the insults and catcalls to die down. “And we're going to hear them out. … then we’ll ban-hammer them.”

  Laughter greeted the last statement.

  I sent a text and Lenny popped in, flanked by a couple of other Starfleet members. The uniforms look slightly different. I did a comparison with an earlier image and realized they’d toned down the TNG resemblance a bit. I wondered how much time and discussion had gone into that change. Now I got my silence. Not the respectful kind, but the kind where a crowd is sizing someone up.

  Lenny and friends felt it as well - they moved a little closer together.

  “Alright, Lenny. Let’s make this quick.”

  Lenny nodded to me. “As a gesture of goodwill, we will release all remaining assets that are still under our control. We've accomplished what we set out to do.”

  He was interrupted by laughter and jeers. Lenny took a moment to regroup, then continued.

  “We’ll be setting up our own version of BobNet, our own backup site, and so on. I get that there's no repairing this, and honestly, I don't see us wanting to continue the association anyway. We’ll give you a star map of our territory. You stay on your side, we’ll stay on ours.”

  I waited a few moments for the latest round of jeers and insults to subside, then I said, “You haven't, you know. Won, I mean. You did some damage, but it won't have the effect you were hoping for. What you did wasn't a strategy, it was just lighting things on fire to watch them burn.”

  Lenny frowned. “We had an opportunity presented to us, and we had to make a choice. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than sitting around doing nothing except complaining at moots.”

  Lenny looked directly into my eyes for a moment, and an unspoken message travel between us. There was more to this. It had to do with the private conversation we'd had, and he wasn't going to bring it up if I didn't.

  After a brief moment of silence, Lenny waved a hand in dismissal.

  “Anyway, it's done. No point in obsessing about it.”

  And with that, he and his fellows vanished.

  “That was kind of anti-climactic,” Garfield said, as the background chatter increased to a shouting level.

  “Hm, yeah. Interesting.”

  I frowned and turned away. This would take some more thought.

  29. Dodging

  Bob

  September 2334

  Garrick's Spine

  I got almost an entire block before I picked up a new set of pursuers. Six masked Quinlans turned and started after me as I ran past them. I heard the puff sound of tranq guns being fired, but oddly didn't feel any impacts or hear the ping of flechettes bouncing off things - how bad was their shooting, anyway?

  I turned an eyeball to look behind me, trying desperately not to fall flat on my face from the dual images coming in. I handed off the running activity to the internal AMI for a moment, and concentrated on the view to the rear.

  It would appear that the Resistance was involved. Two of the six Quinlans behind me were down on the ground, having been shot, and the other four were shooting back at something out of sight. I guess this was good, to a certain extent, but in this case, the enemy of my enemy… was still my enemy. I wondered briefly how they managed to tell each other apart, but only briefly, and I didn't let it distract me from the serious business of getting the hell out of there.

  I hit the edge of town and ran into the forest without breaking stride. I didn't know what tracking options they'd have. I could lower my body temperature, once I stop generating heat from exertion. I could turn off my scent - I perform the action as soon as I thought of it. I couldn't camouflage myself, not like the drones, but I could blend in with the forest when I stopped moving. I was, after all, brown.

  I had to make my way to the station, but I didn't have to take the direct route. Did the Quinlans know or suspect that I couldn't go by water? If not, they'd have to guard the river and stream approaches as well. But I couldn't aff
ord to stop moving near the town. If they formed a search cordon, they'd flush me out. And going into hiding wasn't to my advantage. I had to get out of Heaven's River.

  I kept up the pace as long as I could, but eventually my heads-up started flashing warnings about overheating. It was okay though, I was several miles out of town by this point, and the Quinlans would take twice the time to catch up with me, even if they knew exactly where I was.

  I sat down, took the tranq gun out of my mouth, and began taking deep lungfuls of air. I didn't need the oxygen, but each breath carried away some waste heat. After a bit of fiddling, I found I could jam the gun into a webbing pocket on the side of the backpack. It wasn’t an ideal, but I didn't care at this point if someone saw that I was carrying a Crew weapon.

  Time to take stock.

  “Hugh, what's your situation?”

  “They've put me in manacles, and commandeered a wagon. The hounds were groggy, but not unconscious. They're bellowing up a storm of protest, but doing what they're told.”

  “Where are you heading?”

  “Looks like the Eastern station. I imagine I'll be going for a ride to meet someone.”

  “Okay, keep me updated.”

  He would keep for a while.

  “Bill, what's the situation?”

  “Just ended a moot. We had a talk with Starfleet. It was unsatisfying, let's say. Resolved nothing.”

  “Wow, that must've been interesting. Sorry I missed it.”

  “You can read the transcripts. Meanwhile, I've been bringing myself up to date on your blog. Bender still okay?”

  “His matrix is still in one piece, as far as I know. I just don't know how much jostling these things can take. It's not really part of the specs, you know.”

  “Yeah, got it, buddy.”

  “Well take it easy. Hopefully we’ll be able to talk later with a little less stress.”

  And that was that. I didn't have an excuse to call Will or Howard, or even Marvin or Luke. With an internal sigh, I glanced at my heads-up. Temps were down to something reasonable, although not yet baseline, but I could travel as long as I was relaxed about it. Time to go.

  The rest of the trip to the station was uneventful. I did half-expect Quinlans to jump out from behind trees, especially as I got close, but Quinlans weren't forest creatures by nature. I imagined that being in the trees and away from water would make them nervous.

  Finally, I could see the transit station through a gap in the forest. With freedom this close, I had to fight an urge to just break into a run. In any case, I wouldn't be going into the front door, or the maintenance door. Fortunately, I had the hatch that Gandalf had…

  Uh-oh. A squad of Quinlan stood around the area of the hatch, holding shovels and discussing. Our secret entrance had been found. This was just getting worse and worse. I was literally a stone's throw from getting out, and every damned Quinlan on the planet had decided to show up here. But maybe they’d left the maintenance door open? Or maybe I could sneak in somehow. I didn't see any alternatives.

  Taking care to avoid rustling the foliage. I snuck around to the other side of the station. I arrived just as a Quinlan pressed her card against the reader and walked in through the maintenance door. I was too far to grab it before it closed, and anyway, that would be bad strategy until I knew more. But Quinlans were coming and going, and they had security cards. One way or another, I was going to make that work for me.

  I watched carefully, waiting for a moment, when no one was in sight. I untangled the tranq gun from my pack, then crept up to the maintenance door. There was no discernible sound from the inside, but the wall construction was pretty thick. I might be able to peer through the front windows to see if anyone was in the lobby, and maybe, just maybe, I had enough fleas left to jimmy the lock.

  Without warning, the door burst open and a gaggle of Quinlans poured, out tranq guns drawn. I stared at the guns pointed in my direction. Crew or Resistance, at this point it didn't matter. Both groups were after me. This bunch was standing between me and the way out, and I decided I had just about had it. This was the time for a brute force response. I could take flechettes in the chest without critical damage. Bender's matrix was shielded by my body, and I had a full magazine. I was simply going to keep shooting them until I was the last man standing.

  I straightened up tranq gun held out before me and advanced on the group. This caused some consternation as several of them glanced backward with one eye to see if they were being snuck up on, and the rest settled into firing positions. Then one of the Quinlans held up a hand and yelled “Hold on!” He cupped the other over his ear. I wasn't sure if he was gesturing at me or at his comrades. Judging from the expressions on their faces, they weren't sure either.

  The whole situation was straight out of a comic book. The battle was on hold while someone answered the phone. And it was definitely some kind of communication device, because the conversation was two-way. The Quinlan would talk, than listen, then talk. A couple of times he rolled his eyes. I realized I was in an untenable position, strategically. While I stared at the guy on the phone, other Quinlans could be…

  “Oof!” I said, as some number of Quinlans landed on me. I found myself face down on the ground, my arms and legs pinned by the weight of many bodies. My fault. A Quinlan would've used his mobile eyes to occasionally check for threats from behind. With my human background, I tended to look in one direction at a time.

  I fought back, but I was terrified that Bender might be damaged in the struggle. Interestingly, my attackers seem to be just as concerned. Their attack concentrated on immobilizing my limbs, rather than just dog piling. Then my backpack disappeared. I rolled my eyes back - now that it was too late - to see a Quinlan with a knife in one hand and my backpack in the other, severed straps dangling. They had Bender. Escape was no longer an option. I stopped struggling.

  No one moved for several seconds. I think they were expecting me to wait for them to relax, then try something. Not unreasonable, but I have no intention of trying to get away without Bender.

  One Quinlan leaned down to place his face in my field of view.

  “We have the backpack with the cube. You are only a secondary target. The cube will be going to the Administrator, with or without you. Do you understand.”

  “Yes,” I said with a grim tone. I wasn't about to volunteer any information about my motivations. I think they would assume that I'd grab the Bender and run, if given the chance. It didn't need to be discussed.

  The spokes-critter gestured, Quinlans began slowly removing themselves from the scrum. In moments, I was technically free. I stood and looked around. My backpack was nowhere in sight. About a dozen Quinlans surrounded me, all poised to jump me again if I acted up.

  “So, what now?” I said.

  The leader pointed to the station door that, until a few minutes ago, I had desperately wanted to get through.

  “The cube will be traveling separately, to ensure that you don't try anything.”

  I felt ill. I'd lost. 4,000 miles of dodging, only to get caught at the finish line. Then I lifted my chin. It wasn't over. They couldn't actually kill me, and we'd be back - in numbers. With enough scanners to cover the entire topopolis, if necessary. Unless they actually disassembled the matrix. Not bothering with a response, I marched toward the maintenance door. I would cooperate. I would even attempt to negotiate with the Administrator, but if they refused to give up Bender, they were looking at a long, drawn-out guerrilla war. And that was best case.

  I tried to pay attention as we marched to the train platform, but my thoughts were dark, and directed inward. I barely noticed as the leader called for a train, and I didn't bother to listen for the requested destination. In seconds, the train door whooshed open and we boarded. The Quinlan crew continued to surround me, but they realized I wasn't going to make a dash for it as long as they had Bender. We all took seats, and the train pulled smoothly away from the station.

  The leader, who had sat beside me
turned once the acceleration was over.

  “Can you tell me why you want the cube so badly?”

  I didn't see any point in lying. And the truth might be more helpful.

  “It's a friend of mine. And a relative.”

  He cocked his head - a very human looking expression. “I don't see the resemblance.”

  “You know that the Administrator is not a Quinlan, right?” I replied.

  He nodded, and I continued. “So intelligent beings don't have to be flesh and blood.”

  He frowned silent for several moments. “It does explain your single-mindedness.” He got up and walked to the other end of the car. I could see that he was talking into whatever comms system he was wearing, no doubt reporting the results of our conversation. Whether that would help or hurt my cause was unknown.

  The trip was surprisingly short. Then we trooped along the standard station corridor. I realized quickly that this was a segment mountain complex, rather than a public station. That made sense. We’d come back to a Crew stronghold. They brought me to what I suppose could be called a conference room. It had a table and chairs, anyway. In the middle of the table was a device that at first glance resembled a much more modern version of Motorola.

  “We're here,” the leader said into the air as we sat.

  “Acknowledged,” the device replied. So, Motorola confirmed.

  “Are you the administrator?” I asked.

  “I am. You may refer to me as Annek. I have some questions for you.”

  “I want my friend back.”

  “An answer to a question not asked, and tritely obvious, given the energy you put into avoiding us.”

  “This is not negotiable.”

  I was mad now. I knew it, and I realized might screw things up. I tried to rein it in.

  “This is not a negotiation, so the statement is irrelevant.” Pause. “I'm currently speaking with your partner, Hugh. I will compare your responses. Untruths will not be tolerated. Consequences will be significant. Remember that I possess your cube.”