A power level indicator showed available amperage increasing second by second as the autogas engine moved faster and faster. The propulsion was a bizarre mixture of old and new tech, but it was enough. A hard stamp on the pedal and the generator sent a surge of power to the electric motors. Then he was lurching down the main street of Westbank, pursued by a volley of shots. Most of them missed. One bullet ricocheted off the towing frame behind him, and another smashed through the rear window, burying itself in the steel pillar of the door. He kept the pedal to the floor and glanced at the gauge. Low on power, enough for three or four klicks, it would have to do.
The truck was old, very old, one of many they’d ripped out the advanced battery systems and installed cheap, easy to run autogas generators inside. With charging technology and new batteries all but unobtainable, this was the future for most towns. They'd been promised non-polluting, the great hope of the future. Until the Martian corporation who supplied the fuel and spare parts put up the price. It doubled, doubled again, and continued to rise. Successive wars pushed the price higher, until some owners threw up their hands in despair, ignored the government rhetoric about an imminent victory, and fitted auxiliary autogas engines.
Three or four klicks, enough to get away, and then I’ll disappear. Call Rose, tell her what I know, and keep my promise to Rob. Then I can die. No more torture. No more pain. No more Mars!
* * *
“You stupid bastard, Vern, I told you to take care of him. What’s the matter with you?”
Sergeant Vernon Dahmer held a cloth to his nose to staunch the bleeding. “He got the drop on me, Sheriff. It won’t happen again. I’ll find the bastard and kill him.”
The other two deputies, Bowen and McMurphy, sniggered.
Vos sighed. “Well, that’s the thing, you gotta find him first. I’ve had a couple of calls. People saw him heading for the old deuterium plant. If he makes it, he could disappear, that place is like a forest. You better get after him now. I called the company, and they’ve given us permission to access SPIN, the State Police Intelligence Network."
The deputies looked surprised. SPIN was a fancy acronym they’d devised for the aerial drones that replaced most of the manned vehicles used by the State Troopers.
"They're giving us access to the drone network?"
Vos nodded.
"Yeah, some of us still carry some clout out here. With any luck, they’ll pick him up on their sensors.”
He paused, and they exchanged glances. Cooperation with Dawson Public’s separate State Police Division was uneasy at best. The ‘Staties’ wanted to control all law enforcement. Economies of scale would allow them to do more for less, so they argued. The reality was rather different. A takeover would result in wholesale sell-offs of property and equipment, a pillaging of the cash reserves, and officers thrown out on the street. Fortunes would be won for the men at the top. For the rest of them, it was all black.
“Is that a good idea?” Bowen murmured, “It could open the door, you know what I mean.”
Bowen had a young family, a wife and one-year-old son, in a cute little house on the edge of town. If he lost his job, he’d lose everything. He speared the young deputy with a hard gaze. “What I do know, Deputy Bowen, is we need to find this fugitive, and fast. He’s a former soldier, a Mars vet, wanted for war crimes, and the paper on him says dead or alive. Which means someone on a pay grade way over our heads wants his hide, and they want him badly. This comes direct from Washington, so no matter what it takes, we get him back…otherwise,” he raked them with his eyes, “Don’t think about the otherwise. Go get him.”
“Sheriff,” McMurphy said, “How do we follow him into the old plant? We don’t have a vehicle that can take that broken ground. It’s a rabbit warren. Half the buildings have collapsed. It’s rough ground, plenty of places where the surface has collapsed. We won’t get more than a couple of hundred meters, and we’ll wreck the cruisers. If we go on foot, we can’t access the camera feed.”
“Cliff Trudel.”
They looked at Dahmer. Vos wondered what the local bad boy had to do with it. “Cliff? What about him? I don’t want him involved.”
The Sergeant wiped the bloody snot off his nose. His face was a ghastly, bruised ruin, but medical treatment was a luxury they didn’t have time for.
Too bad, he’ll have to wait.
“He has that old gas powered ex-army Hagglund. It’s tracked, a rough ground vehicle, go anywhere. We can follow him into the old plant, and the communications panel is still installed. Soon as the Staties pick him up, we can link to their systems and follow his movements on the screens.”
“Does it still run, the Hagglund? Didn’t he try and run that thing with electric motors, and found it ran out of energy almost as soon as he left the shop?”
He snorted. “Cliff tossed out that crap and put the original motor back under the hood. As long as it has gas, it’ll run. Besides, he has powerful motivation. Bastard stole his tow truck.”
Vos nodded. He hated the idea of calling on Trudel for help a second time, but what choice did he have? “Call him, and get it set up. McMurphy, you go with them, and help out. Bowen, stay with me. We’ll use the spare cruiser and get after him. First, I have a call to make.”
He retreated to his office and looked up the contact details specified in the BOLO for Lieutenant Noah Cage. Wanted man. War criminal.
What did he do? Must have been something bad.
He hit the call key and waited for an answer. The wait was short.
“General Hartmann’s office.”
“Sheriff Harrison Vos, calling from Westbank. It’s about Noah Cage.”
Was that a sharp intake of breath?
“I’ll put you through right away.”
A moment later, “Hartmann.”
“Sheriff Vos, General. I’m…”
“I know who you are. I saw the flag on my screen. You have Cage. I want an immediate transfer to…”
“General, he got away.”
“Is this some kind of a joke?”
“No, Sir. He, er, nearly killed one of my deputies and ran. He's out of control, a maniac. He won’t get far, General. We know where he is. More or less.”
“More or less? Jesus Christ, Vos, this is a war criminal, a mass killer, dammit!”
“I understand, Sir. What did he do?”
“Do? That’s not your business, Sheriff. Your business is to find him. Goddammit, I thought it was over. Listen, Westbank, you said?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll round up a platoon of MPs and get down there, help you find him. Give me a couple of hours, and I’ll be with you. Keep me posted, anything you find out. Anything at all! Does he have any cellular tech in his upgrades you can use to trace him?”
“Negative, no comms tech that we can reach.”
"Cage is smart. Give him a few days, and he'll be gone."
The man groaned at the other end.
"Shit. What about friends and family? He may be trying to reach them.”
“There’s no one, General. I checked.”
“Copy that. Get after him, Sheriff. I’ll be there soon; I have to make some calls first.”
“Yes, Sir. About jurisdiction…”
The voice disappeared. General Hartmann had disconnected.
Vos tried to calm his racing thoughts. Cursed the name Noah Cage, cursed the day he’d come to Westbank. Now the Staties were dipping their beaks into his business, followed by the Pentagon connection. He’d have MPs tramping all over his turf. Throw Cliff Trudel into the mix, spurred on by that half-crazy Sergeant Dahmer lusting for revenge, and it was more than a mess. He raced out, heading for the parking area behind the building. Deputy Bowen was sitting in the driving seat of their spare Aircruiser, the motor running. Vos dove into the shotgun seat and shouted, “Drive! Let’s go get this sonofabitch!”
Chapter Two
Westbank, PanAmerica, Earthside
He kept the power pedal pressed flat
to the floor, and the top-heavy truck lurched as tired springs bounced on the ruts. The autogas generator increased in power as it struggled to send enough electric to the vehicle’s motors. The heavy crane on the back made the vehicle sway even worse. The uneven movement threatened to topple the truck as he took the bends on two wheels, leaving the worn down rubber tires fighting for grip. When the truck was new, it had been tough, powerful, and reliable. No longer, the machine was old, underpowered, and belching fumes from the improvised pipe exhausts running from the generator. Little more than a ghost of what it has once been. Like everything in this part of the world, it was old and falling apart.
Noah checked the mirror every couple of seconds, and there was no sign of a pursuit. The house and dusty front yards gave way to a scrubland. And the highway began to climb into the low range of hills lying to the East of the town. The truck slowed as the gradient became steeper, and the hills weren’t so low. The generator was already running at capacity, and an old glass gauge showed it was starting to overheat.
Piece of old tech crap.
He was climbing into the Appalachians, which suited him just fine. Wild country. Desolate, remote, a place to disappear forever if a man wanted to. He was one man, and he wanted to disappear for just long enough to keep a promise. After that…nothing.
Cage expected to find forest, thick woods for which the region was known. There were no trees. Instead, the scrub gave way to man-made structures, an industrial plant in the middle of nowhere. The forest was one of buildings, partly dismantled, decaying, corroded, some of them already collapsed. The glass in the window spaces had long disappeared, just the occasional bush growing from inside. Nature’s counterattack, and here, nature was winning. He drove past a huge shingle, faded and peppered with holes where people had used it for target practice.
‘Dawson Public Facilities, Inc. Deuterium Extraction Division, Westbank. Your friend in the energy industry.’
Man, and I thought Mars was bad enough.
Noah kept on moving, all the while keeping his eyes open and scanning for danger. The autogas generator drowned out most sounds, making visual scanning his only chance of spotting trouble.
The place was a plant to process heavy water and extract the precious deuterium that had been the catalyst for so much advancement and strife. The wonder fuel for the new generation of clean, limitless power, the great leap forward in the search for the miracle of ‘new, cleaner, better fuel.’ The limitless source of pure power they’d promised for so long.
Yeah, right. The love affair with Westbank has long gone, like Westbank’s love affair with the miracle.
Noah laughed to himself.
Big business always kicks the little guy in the teeth.
He slowed and bumped along the track that carved a path between the buildings, moving further into the ruins. More broken structures, stretching as far as the eye could see. The track was climbing, and when he looked back, he could see dust on the outskirts of the small town. They were coming. He’d have to act fast. He found what he was looking for, a bigger building, with part of the wall missing. Enough space to drive the tow truck inside, and he eased through the jagged steel that framed the gap, and he’d made it inside. Out of sight, it would be enough for his needs.
He halted and waited for a second. A gentle tap on the auxiliary controls cut the fuel to the generator, and it spluttered before coming to a stop. Noah reached down, but keeping his eyes firmly on the windshield. A simple metallic toggle activated the parking mode and locked the drive motors in place.
Scan the area; do not move until you're sure.
He could look and listen without having to move a muscle. It was all training, helped by the many augmented features fitted to his modified body. He sometimes wished he'd sustained head trauma, because that might have granted him access to the visual upgrades, and more important, the augmented neural engines fitted to late model Lifers. He'd seen some of them in action and couldn't be anything but impressed. The additions to the brain effectively increased storage, decision-making, and the ability to solve complex mental problems. Right now he'd be perfectly happy with improved eyesight.
Nothing...so far.
He searched the cab and tucked behind the passenger seat, he found a bib and brace overall. Enough to cover his naked body, and he pulled it on. The cotton fabric stank of old sweat, grease, and stale food, but that meant little to Noah. He grabbed the battered looking smartphone with a cracked screen, and left the truck to find the place he wanted. The staircase to the third floor was intact, and his powered legs carried him up the stairs two at a time. The empty window frame gave him a view of the approaches to the plant. He examined the unit and turned it over while smiling.
Old tech, very old tech.
The unit was the size of his hand, solid metal, and covered front and back with a hard glass. It was completely black and showed no signs of life.
"Okay, here goes nothing."
Closing his eyes, Noah gripped the device, and then diverted power to the inductive charging field along his forearm. It took a moment, but after a few more seconds, he could tell the energy running from his right arm was getting through to the device, though a good percentage was wasted in the process.
I can't do this all day.
Then to his pleasant surprise, a single light at the top blinked red, and after three more flashes turned amber. Noah held his breath and rested his finger on the top of the unit. The screen flashed, and the thing came to life. Seconds later it reached a lockscreen, and no matter what he tried to do, the partially animated image of a naked women refused to do anything but slide to the right. He recalled the conversation he'd had with a unit technician before their last mission. Noah still didn't think it was possible, but the tech sergeant had promised him that if it was done right, any augmented Lifer had the ability to do this little undocumented trick.
Okay, my friend, let's see if you were right about this.
Noah kept the device in his hand and paired it to his own internal management system, using the routine shown to him while he'd been rotting in that prison. His internal computer system was a basic unit, but designed to allow him to interface with his upgraded components, as well as nearby paired technology. It took almost four seconds for the device to authorize and give him full root access.
Okay...now it's time to go dark.
The tech had told him about the features of mobile communications devices, and one of those was the network override. With the right information, it was relatively easy to access the hidden virtual private network that used the Mars Recon backchannels, and avoid the public network. A way to allow tech units to infiltrate Martian communications if a unit was ever left behind enemy lines. The connection showed as active, though substantially reduced in available bandwidth. Holding his breath, he put in the code again, hoping that she would answer. For a second there was nothing; but then came a muffled, slightly distorted female voice.
“This is Rose Romero.”
He worked to clear the dryness in his throat. “Cage.”
“Noah Cage?” She sounded puzzled, her voice devoid of any concern, just surprise, “I thought you said you were going to meet me. You promised me you’d tell me about Rob. Was the whole thing just another prank?”
In half a minute, he explained why he wouldn’t make it, couldn't make it.
“The Sheriff is after you? Why?”
What the hell? I may as well tell her all of it. She deserves to know.
“I wish I knew. Rose, I broke out of that prison on Mars and stowed away to get home. I did nothing wrong, same as Rob. Now I’m a wanted man.”
“Wanted? What did you do?”
“Nothing. Listen, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I won't make it out of this. I just wanted to tell you about Rob. We were sent to attack a…”
“Wait! Where are you?”
He paused to glance down the hillside. The plume of dust was nearer. He estimated there were two vehicles headed towar
d the plant, cops. “It's an old industrial plant, big place on the hillside. Deuterium.”
“The Dawson Deuterium plant, yeah, I know it. What are you doing there?”
“The cops arrested me, so I broke out.”
“You mean here, in Westbank?"
She hesitated.
"What did you do, Noah?”
The question for which he had no answer, “Nothing.”
She didn’t say anything, not at first. He could hear her breathing on the other end of the call. She spoke again, “You have transport?”
“No.”
“I’ll come and get you. Look out for me. I doubt there’ll be too many women driving a red Falcon in that neck of the woods.”
“No. Rose, you can’t. This place is about to come alive with cops. If you…”
He broke off. The connection via the virtual private network had gone dead, and now the device was stuck on the public network. Somebody must have detected his unauthorized access to the military system and booted him out. He tried to connect again, but the connection timed out over and over. The warning beep sounded, and the screen faded to black. Low battery.
Shit!
He could charge the phone or use it, but not both when it was this low, and the call had drained what tiny amount of residual current had already been active. The unit used more power than he could generate using his inductive circuit.
It needs a minute or two. Minutes I don't have.
He could see the two Aircruisers threading their way through the derelict plant. A quick survey of the ground around him, and there was a single way to go. Up. Deeper into the broken buildings, and maybe he’d find a way out and disappear into the thick woods several clicks away. It was uncanny, a clear line where the wrecked industrial landscape stopped, and the thick foliage of the Appalachians began.
Somewhere in there, with luck, I’ll find shelter, water, and food perhaps?
It was time to leave. He raced back to the first floor and found a way out, a rear entrance partly hidden by a clump of trees that had grown up over the years. The power in his legs drove him on, and he was out in the open, pushing through the weeds and undergrowth until he reached an open space. Two hundred meters across, it looked like it had once been a vehicle park, and two rusting trucks, their wheels removed, lay in the center. As if to underline the depth of dereliction to which the area had sunk.
Last Life (Lifers Book 1) Page 6
