The female voice continued its neutral tone. “As soon as I pinpointed your location, I sent an anonymous tip to the FSB regional headquarters, telling them where you are, and sending them a live video feed of you. Now your real picture is back on their database.”
Vlad grimaced. This was impossible! How did his interviewer find out where he was, much less what he really looked like? “You betrayed me, you whore!”
“I can still get you to safety if you follow my instructions carefully,” she said.
Despite the chilly weather, Vlad’s long hair was matted with sweat. Her latest words added to his stress and bewilderment. “What? What kind of game is this?”
“It’s not a game. The authorities have surrounded the place. Two plainclothes FSB agents will enter the café in twenty seconds. I would suggest you activate your personal server right now.”
Vlad’s right hand shook as he reached over to his side and power cycled the fist-sized device on his belt. The moment it went online, a series of letters and numbers appeared on the lenses of his smartglasses. “What … is this?”
“That is the administrator level access code for the Saint Petersburg Police AI network. If you are as good as you claim to be, then you should be able to get out of this yourself,” the voice said. “Ten seconds till they come inside.”
Vlad held his breath. For a brief moment he just sat there, staring off into space. His choices were clear. He would either use everything in his power to escape, or he would give up and be taken into custody, to spend the remaining years of his life in a windowless cell. His smartglass as well as the gloves he wore had a virtual interface system, and he could input code with the flick of his fingers or by using his eye movements. Vlad quickly activated his gloves and began typing furiously with his fingers, moving his digits in the air as each input was virtually recorded on his smartglass interface.
The double doors opened, and two very fit looking men with short haircuts entered. They had bulges in their jackets as they started looking around. The smiling waitress approached them, but the taller of the two waved her away. Vlad noticed them, but he concentrated on the lines of code being displayed on the virtual screen in his left eye. Both men looked in different directions, slowly scanning the room until the one closest to Vlad spotted him. The two men started walking slowly towards him, their right hands reaching into their coats.
The interviewer was telling the truth about the com-link access. Vlad was coding furiously as he inserted his control exploit application into the police server. The resulting breach gave him a clear view of what he was up against. Two more FSB agents waited outside, standing by their car. An aerial police drone was hovering near the roof of the building while two teams of cops were cordoning off the street. The FSB had informed the local police that they needed minor assistance, and they allowed their network to be linked for better coordination. That was their mistake.
The two men stood in front of Vlad, their chiseled faces staring intently at him. “We need you to come with us,” the shorter of the two said.
Vlad continued to add more code into the interface as he looked up at them. “Who? Me?”
“Yes, you,” the taller one said. “Now get up or we will hurt you.”
One of the police cars out in the street suddenly activated its own autodrive feature. The sedan’s wheels burned rubber as it barreled past the surprised cops standing beside it, and the vehicle made a quick turn while continuing to accelerate towards the front doors of the café. The two additional FSB agents standing outside shouted in alarm as they both dove away for safety, just as the police car smashed into the double doors of the establishment.
The two men inside the café turned around in surprise as they heard the shouts of their colleagues through their com-links. Both of them dropped to one knee while facing the smashed entrance, instinctively drawing their pistols out from beneath their jackets. The front end of the police vehicle was stopped by a support beam which crumpled its front bumper. The double doors had completely caved in, with countless pieces of glass and splintered wood all over the floor. Patrons and café workers were either lying on the ground or running in all directions, screaming in terror.
Vlad knew it was now or never. He got up and sprinted towards the kitchen area at the back, hoping to get past the door before the two men could react in time. Just as he pushed his way past the swinging door which led into the small kitchen, he bumped into a greasy haired, barrel-chested cook, who immediately started cursing at him while pushing him up against the side of the door.
“You are not allowed to go this way!” the cook said as he pinned him by the edge of the kitchen entryway.
Vlad grimaced as he struggled to get loose. “Let go of me!”
One of the FSB agents inside the café turned towards them and leveled his pistol. “Utkin! Stop right there!”
Vlad wore steel toed boots and he kicked the burly cook in his groin. The man howled in pain while loosening his grip on Vlad’s arms. The man known as Anonymyst turned and pushed his way through the door just as the FSB agent fired two shots with his pistol. The slugs tore into the back of the cook, who grunted and fell forward, pinning Vlad onto the ground with his bulk as they both fell onto the kitchen floor.
The FSB agent started walking slowly towards the back, the pistol still in his hand. Vlad had access to the café’s AI system the moment he entered the establishment. Still working furiously on his interface, Vlad commanded the AI unit on the stove to shut off its burners before reactivating the gas lines and set it to maximum. The smallish room was soon filled with the sharp, pungent smell of natural gas almost immediately.
Just as Vlad got up, the FSB agent got to the kitchen doorway. The man with the gun tried to get into the kitchen, but the cook’s body was partially blocking his way. Vlad turned and ran to the other end of the room. The FSB agent pushed his arm through the door and fired his gun, but missed as Vlad got through the opposite door and locked it behind him. The man finally pushed his way through and quickly dashed into the room before the locked door stopped his progress. Just as he started smashing down the second door, Vlad reactivated the burners, igniting the gas in the room.
The force of the explosion shuddered through the establishment. Just as he made it to a landing, Vlad could see two policemen making their way through the back door of the building, just two rooms away from where he was. He turned and ran up the stairwell, hoping to find a way out at the top. His legs were aching from the sudden exertion, but his adrenaline kept his energy levels up as he ascended to the top floor. Running towards the end of the corridor, he could see that a narrow metal ladder led up to the roof deck. Grimacing in frustration, he grabbed hold of the rungs and climbed up.
Pushing the bolt back on the trapdoor, he pushed it open and got up to the roof. The adjacent buildings were of the same height and he figured he could just jump over and keep making his way by moving along the rooftops, but he could already see a number of unmanned aerial vehicles converging on him. A four-rotor police drone was a mere ten meters away as it observed his every move. There was shouting coming from the trapdoor that he had just climbed out of- it was clear that his pursuers were near. He had but one chance, and it was a risky one.
Vlad grimaced as he accessed the drone’s AI system. Sure enough his command overrides brought the unmanned vehicle to within a meter of his position as it hovered obediently beside him. He quickly grabbed hold of the vehicle’s fuselage, being careful not to get his fingers caught in the spinning rotor blades. Once he had a firm grip, he commanded the drone to use maximum throttle. Vlad wasn’t sure if it could even carry his weight, and was somewhat surprised to notice that his feet were already a few meters up in the air as the drone began flying over to an adjacent street. The drone’s speed was somewhat slower than he had hoped, but it was enough to transport him several blocks due south.
Most people weren’t looking up as they walked along the streets of the city, otherwise they might have se
en a man suspended in the air while holding on to a police drone. It took a few more minutes as Vlad commanded it to descend onto the Griboyedov channel embankment, a tree-lined road that fronted one of the many canals crisscrossing the city. The moment the drone hovered low enough, he was able to let go and made a short jump to the pavement. Ordering the drone to veer away back into the air, Vlad rubbed his sore arms to get some circulation back.
A black van suddenly stopped just ahead of him. The rear doors opened automatically. A voice from the interior called out in a neutral accented English. “Mr. Utkin, I suggest you get inside. The police will be here in a few seconds.”
Vlad’s English was good, and he fully understood what was said. Seeing a flashing police car pull into the street less than a kilometer away, he ran to the back of the van and jumped inside. The rear doors quickly closed and the vehicle drove off.
Sitting in the back of the van was a bald headed man, his thick neck partially covered by the black jacket he wore. He held out a gloved hand in a gesture of greeting. “Welcome, Mr. Utkin.”
Vlad didn’t shake it. His whole body still trembled from the ordeal he just experienced. “Who … are you?”
“My name isn’t really important, but you can call me Ganz,” the man said. “Don’t worry, you passed the interview.”
Vlad was still confused. The adrenaline rush was seeping slowly from his mind, making his thoughts lethargic. “Interview?”
Ganz nodded. “Yes, it was a test to see how well you could function in tense situations. I told my employers that you would most likely fail, and I’m somewhat impressed that you proved me wrong.”
“Employer?”
“You’ll be briefed soon enough,” Ganz said. “In the meantime, it’s my job to get you into the United States. Just sit back and relax, there’s a private drone transport waiting for us at the airport. Don’t worry, it will pass a security check.”
Chapter 4
After noticing a bit of dirt on the flat marker, Colonel Marlon Ruthven took a white handkerchief from his pocket, got to his knees and wiped it clean. Spouses of military personnel were allowed to be interred in the country’s national cemeteries, and he had fought with tooth and nail to make sure his wife’s grave was right beside his son’s. After checking that both headstones were spotless, he stood up once more and smoothed out the wrinkles in his dark blue Air Force uniform.
It was a crisp, clear California morning. Only a few wisps of clouds could be seen out in the distance. The sun had yet to blossom into its full radiance, but Ruthven already had active full tint on his smartglass in order to help hide his swollen, teary eyes from the other visitors of the park. Riverside National Cemetery was one of the largest military burial grounds in the country, and he was thankful that only a few others were close by. He wanted to be alone with them for one final occasion.
He carried a bouquet of bright red roses in his other hand. Kneeling down a second time, he placed it gently on top of his wife’s grave marker. “I know you told me not to do this, but I have to,” he whispered. “I’ve got to … for Taylor’s sake. I hope you’ll understand.”
Today was the third anniversary of her death, and it was the day he made a vow to himself that there would be a reckoning. Ruthven recalled sitting by his wife’s side in the hospital room as her breathing began to slow. He held her hand with such force that she made a little yelp that he had to loosen his grip and apologize.
Virginia’s bright blue eyes stared back at him and she smiled. Her face was ashen, and her once beautiful head of blond hair was gone due to the effects of chemotherapy. But she was still the most alluring woman he had ever known. Her voice was like a soft croak. “Don’t do it, Marlon … they will … hate you … forever.”
He remembered tears streaming down his eyes as he kissed her on the forehead. “Without you, there’s no reason for me to go on anymore. Give Taylor a kiss for me when you see him.”
“I will,” she said. “I love you.” Then she closed her eyes and never woke up.
His memories became a bit hazy after that. The funeral that followed was but a passing instance; the blank, barely remembered faces of the others who shook his hand and the ubiquitous condolences seemed meaningless to him. For a long while, nothing seemed to matter anymore. His superiors were willing to grant him more leave time, but he insisted on getting back to his duty. Ruthven buried his grief and his rage so deeply that it was almost like living another man’s life. Whatever doubts Air Force Space Command had with him were quickly cast aside as he completed his tasks with unemotional precision, and he was soon granted command of one of the prestigious Orion battlecruisers out in the Lagrange orbits between the Earth and the Moon. That was two years ago. With his last tour of duty successfully completed, the opportunity to command something even greater was now within his grasp.
Ruthven shuddered a little while a slight chill went up his spine. It always felt like this before a mission. Despite his years of experience, the anticipation of going up past the heavens filled him with spurts of adrenaline, just like a schoolboy out on his first field trip. Remembering the last bit of his solemn ritual, Ruthven took out a small American flag from his coat pocket and planted it on the gravestone beside his wife’s.
“I’m doing this for you, Tay,” he said. By now his tears had dried, and the rage boiling inside of him became prevalent once more.
Taylor was their only son. Like his father, he volunteered to join the armed forces. Unlike his dad however, the young man went instead to the Navy. Ruthven remembered asking the recently accepted naval academy midshipman why he preferred to be a sailor over a spaceman.
“I don’t like outer space,” his son said, grinning. “We’re not meant to be up there. I’d rather be on a boat.”
Taylor had graduated first in his class from Annapolis, and his father’s proudest moment was when his son was chosen by his peers to make the commencement speech during their graduation ceremony. Just seeing the young man in his white Navy dress uniform brought the only public tears in his eyes. When Taylor got his first command of a stealth destroyer a few years later, Marlon was able to take some time off his own busy schedule to visit him on the ship‘s bridge. Taylor had told him he would become admiral one day, and would even eclipse his father’s achievements in the Air Force.
A few years later, the tensions over the Spratlys region erupted in a brief, two-day conflict in the South China Sea. Continued Chinese naval expansion turned into open war when the United States attempted to intercede against an attempted People’s Liberation Army invasion of an artificial island built by the Philippine government. Both sides poured in air and naval assets in an effort to hold each other off in a show of force, but the situation soon backfired when an intruding PLA stealth fighter was inadvertently shot down by a Filipino anti-aircraft missile after wandering into their defense zone. The PLA Navy quickly sent in multiple air sorties as their fleet briefly engaged a US naval picket line. By the time the US and the Chinese governments finally stepped in and pulled back their forces, a half-dozen ships on both sides were either sunk or damaged. Hundreds of lives were lost in a single instance, Ruthven’s son among them.
Taylor’s missile destroyer was hit several times. The young captain had bravely gone into the engineering section of the crippled ship to help quell a raging fire, just as another PLA stealth fighter got into range and fired a new volley of anti-ship missiles at it. Taylor was posthumously awarded the Navy Cross, and was in line to receive the Medal of Honor for his actions, but all further decorations to the participants were denied as the American government attempted to tone down the already volatile international situation. In time, apologies and regrets were publicly admitted by the politicians and diplomats of the countries involved. New peace treaties were signed to maintain the delicate balance of power in that troubled region, and the incident soon became a footnote in world history. In time, the only ones who continued to remember were those that had lost someone.
&nbs
p; Ruthven grimaced as he stared down at his son’s marker. It was always like this. He always felt differently when it came to thinking about Taylor as compared to his wife. Ruthven had been stationed at one of the land bases in the Philippines during the conflict, and he was not far from that part of the sea where his son had died. When he got the news, it struck him down like a thunderbolt, and he had to be the one to break it to Virginia. He could never forget the look on her face when he came home after being rotated back. Those weeks of torment and anguish were the worst.
“I’ll get them back for you, Tay,” he said softly while staring at the small flag on the grass.
Shifting his gaze from one adjoining tombstone to the other, he continued whispering his reasons to the family that was gathered in front of him, sometimes veering off into an occasional prayer. He could have kept it up for the rest of the day, but Ruthven soon noticed a black object up in the sky that seemed to be getting larger by the second. That was when he realized the ones backing him had succeeded in the first phase, now it would be up to his skills and experience to carry through with the rest of the mission.
The Crow military helicopter hovered above him for a minute before touching down on a narrow concrete road just fifteen meters away. Emblazoned along the side of the fuselage was the insignia of the USAF Space Command: a silver arrowhead pointing upwards, surrounded by a facsimile of Earth, orbital rings, and the stars. The vehicle’s co-axial rotors continued to whirl in near total silence as the side door opened and three armed soldiers wearing full battle gear ran towards him. Running his hand over his silvery hair to straighten it, Ruthven just stood there as they gave him a salute.
“Colonel Ruthven,” the man closest to him said. “I’m Lieutenant Smith, sir. I have orders to bring you to Argus Base right away. General Tobias requests your immediate presence.”
Ruthven returned his salute. It had finally begun. “Okay, let’s go.”
Virago One: A Hard Science Fiction Technothriller (Ace of Space Book 2) Page 4
