Bell’s eyes showed defiance. “Do you think I like what we have to do? Do you think I enjoy this?”
“Maybe you do, all safe and cozy in this little building here.”
Wyatt began to feel uncomfortable with the exchange. Chris was amped up in a way that didn’t fit their mission. They needed Jack Bell to come with them. They needed him to cooperate. Chris seemed to want to hurt him.
“Being here is not a choice.” Even though he had a pistol next to his nose, Bell showed remarkable composure. “It’s the only option we have. And the fact of the matter is, if I’m not the one directing things, someone else will—someone who maybe isn’t as humane.”
“You think murder is humane?”
Wyatt took a worried step away from the door. “Chris.”
Bell was busy shaking his head. “We’re managing constricted people who are already going to die. The only way to save those who aren’t infected is to remove the ones who are.”
“And what are you removing?” A dangerous edge crept into Chris’s voice. “People, Bell. Not cattle. Not crops. You’re taking away children. Brothers. Sisters. Friends. You should be finding a cure, not destroying our society.”
“Constriction is destroying our society. The only way to survive is to cut it out.”
“Said every despot in history.”
“I don’t think that’s an apt comparison.”
“Chris,” Wyatt said again. They were making too much noise. He wondered if anyone could hear them from the hallway.
The Marine ignored him. “I think Hewitt has an obligation to help the people who elected him, not kill them off.”
“Well, Hewitt’s dead, so he doesn’t really count.”
“I—what? What did you say?”
For the first time since Wyatt had met him, the Marine seemed at a loss. He stood by the desk and just stared at Dr. Bell.
Bell’s eyes flicked back and forth between Chris and Wyatt. “You’re not Department employees. Who are you?”
The menace suddenly returned, more dangerous now. Chris tightened his grip on Bell’s shirt and jerked him upward. “What happened to the Governor?”
“That hurts.”
“Talk!”
“Get that gun out of my face and maybe I will.”
“Chris!” Wyatt spoke with heavy emphasis on each word. “This is not the best time to be having this conversation.”
A few tense moments passed. Chris released Bell, leaving a rumpled knot in the middle of his shirt. He lowered his voice. “Keep your hands on the desk, or you might lose one.”
“Don’t worry,” Bell said, unflustered. “I don’t have any spy controls or secret panels. You know, government budgets and all.”
“Now, quickly. Hewitt. I saw him on the news vids yesterday.”
Bell sighed. “Those are computer generated. It’s all about keeping the populace calm. The illusion of control, that sort of thing. Governor Hewitt died a month ago.”
“How? Constriction?”
The Secretary’s eyes narrowed. “You need to tell me who you are first.”
“Talk.”
“No.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve for someone with a gun pointed at them.”
“Yeah, and if you wanted me dead, you’d have done it already. Look, the odds are pretty high right now that constriction’s going to kill all of us. Your scare tactics are sneezing into a hurricane. But I might talk to you if you answer some of my questions.”
Chris seemed like he might punch him again.
Wyatt had had enough. “This is my mission, Dr. Bell.”
“And what mission is that?”
“Recon. All the interplanetary shipping from Juliet has stopped. Let’s just say that people outside of Alpha A took notice. My team came here to scout it out and find out what’s going on. A bunch of those roads led to you.”
Comprehension dawned on Dr. Bell’s face. He nodded slowly. “You’re not from Juliet.”
“No. Come with us and we can have a nice long chat about it.”
“I want the answer to my question first,” Chris growled. “The governor.”
“You sure you want to know?”
“Try me.”
The room was still except for the sound of white noise.
“Operation Firebreak,” Bell said finally.
“Which is?”
“The solution, according to some. According to Commissioner McManus.” Bell stared at his desk, seemingly resigning himself to something. “Do you know what happens if you try to hurt a person with constriction?”
“They try to infect you,” Chris said.
“No. They attack.”
Chris narrowed his eyes.
“Ever notice how you don’t find constricted persons by themselves?” Bell continued. “They’re always in groups. Not that surprising given how contagious it is. It only takes one infected person to spread it. And if someone happens to stay too close, that’s exactly what happens: one person tries to spread it.
“But if they get accosted, it’s not the individual that responds. Every nearby constricted focuses on you. And when you have multiple constricted propagating the infection at the same time, the effect is devastating. They burn you to a crisp from the inside. Your mind shorts out and you’re turned into a vegetable.”
Wyatt felt his insides twist. He thought back to Parrell, to the constricted woman who had stared at Izzy. Wyatt had shot her. And then the other constricted woke up and his mind flooded with painful, golden specks.
Bell’s voice took on a weary quality. “Every attempt to corral or drive constricted citizens to a controlled area has resulted in an attack. It didn’t matter if we used nonlethal means. They still turned hostile. We had squads of police in full riot gear drop to the ground and die, massive convulsions shaking their bodies, no way to shield them. We absolutely failed to contain it.
“So, that’s where General McManus comes in. He was born here. He knows the Julietan mindset better than anybody. Julietans stick together in adversity. They don’t abandon friends or family. That’s how this planet got colonized.
“But he knew it was also killing us. Parents wouldn’t leave children. Brothers wouldn’t leave brothers. Sometimes they wouldn’t even realize constriction was happening until they were already infected themselves. The only way to stop constriction from spreading was to get ahead of it. To kill ahead of it.”
Bell looked out the window for a moment. The sky had darkened with storm clouds overhead.
“Governor Hewitt disagreed with how to contain it. Hewitt was a compassionate man. I’m not sure exactly what went down, but it cost him his life. And now you have what we have today. Firebreak. A terrible, terrible thing. But if it saves us from extinction …” He let the words trail off, staring at his desk.
Wyatt thought back to growing up in Michigan as a young boy. Scouts. Lots of camping, fishing, time outdoors. Being careful and deliberate. But many who enjoyed nature were not, and a shoddy fire pit or careless cigarette butt easily started a wildfire that swept through dry brush and ground cover.
How did firefighters contain a perimeter filled with combustible material? What could they do against a wildfire that could easily outpace any possible resources thrown against it?
By clearing a gap in the unburned vegetation. By denying the fire its fuel.
God, what a mess.
“I ought to kill you right now,” Chris said.
He jerked Dr. Bell’s shirt and hauled him to his feet. Wyatt watched the pistol swing up to Dr. Bell’s chin.
“What’s the alternative?” Bell said. “Let someone who might be infected loose? It only takes one, and everybody dies.”
“You’re a murderer.”
Despite the threat of Chris’s weapon, Dr. Bell yanked himself free. Anger spilled over his face. “Do you think I asked for this? Do you? I spend every hour of every day making these horrible decisions. Me. My staffers are in the dark. They think they’re analyzin
g data usage, fixing blackouts for better police response. They don’t have any idea that a blackout means a new outbreak, that no one is using technology anymore, that everyone there is going to get shot.”
“Not good enough.”
Wyatt could feel the tension in Chris’s trigger finger.
He took a step into the room and spoke in the best command voice he could muster. “Master Sergeant Thompson. Lower your weapon.”
The Marine turned his head a fraction. His pistol didn’t move.
“Are you going to kill the one man who actually understands how constriction spreads?” Wyatt asked. “I need him. We need him. If anyone’s going to come up with a nonlethal approach to get ahead of this—those people need what’s in his head.”
“He needs a laser blast in his head, is what,” Chris said.
“Do that, and every colonist is going to die. Constriction or police action, one way or the other.”
A long, anxious pause filled the air. Chris remained frozen with his pistol underneath Dr. Bell’s chin.
Wyatt remained on the offensive. He turned to the doctor. “And you, Dr. Bell. I get that Juliet likes to keep problems in the family. But you’re absolutely complicit in these preemptive deaths. You can complain about the burden on you. You still told the police where to go. For you, your absolution is going to come from me.”
“And how’s that?” Bell asked.
“I’m taking you off-world. You need Proxima and you need Sol. You need every resource we can throw your way. This is too big, for you or anyone. It’s going to take everyone. That is the only way to salvage this situation. To atone.”
Jack Bell stared hard at him. Perhaps he was judging whether a complete stranger really offered a viable alternative to something reprehensible. Or maybe he thought Wyatt was out of his mind and was going to just get more people killed, like Hewitt.
After what seemed like forever, his eyes softened an infinitesimal amount.
“Okay.”
Chris lowered his pistol.
Wyatt stifled a sigh of relief. “Now can we please get the hell out of here?”
The comm crackled with an incoming message from Laramie. “Battle One to all elements. We’ve been compromised.”
27
Laramie watched armed figures walk in a skirmish line down the garage ramp. How much had they seen? Did the police know Laramie and Kenny were armed? She hoped she and Kenny still had the advantage, that the troopers who spotted them hadn’t been careful in observing details. Regardless, the odds of leaving the way they arrived had dwindled almost to zero.
A police trooper in a black CORE helmet leaned around a structural pylon. Laramie sighted him with her Vector.
“Staff Sergeant?” Kenny’s whisper sounded crisp over the comm. He looked at her from behind his construction barrier, ready to shoot.
“Hold your fire.”
Her helmet picked up two more police officers creeping out of the entry ramp, moving to cover.
“Chemo,” she said. “We have multiple contacts in the garage.”
“Copy, Battle.” The sound of Finn’s voice was a surprise. “Chemo Two is moving your way.” Maya.
“Do not enter the garage. I repeat, do not enter the garage. You’ll expose your position. Stay in the stairwell.”
“One copies.”
“Two copies,” Maya said. She was breathing heavy, probably rushing down the stairs.
The police troopers darted from pylon to pylon, pausing at each one to scan their surroundings for the mysterious figures spotted by the cargo truck. Laramie noticed the long barrels of L-6 Vipers in several of their hands. One policeman, perhaps the commander, carried a pistol. None of them appeared to have visors with integrated targeting.
“Chemo Two in position,” Maya said.
A burly officer with an open-faced helmet shifted to Laramie’s far left and ducked behind a payment kiosk. The construction barrier lay just a few meters beyond. He was moving dangerously close to Kenny.
“Stand by,” Laramie whispered. She painted the officer with her targeting system.
A trooper dashed wide right and past the edge of the cargo pod she was using as cover. The pod edge touched the garage wall, so Laramie knew she couldn’t be flanked, but only Kenny could cover the approach from that side.
The kiosk trooper raised a Viper and covered the area.
Another officer, skinny and short, peeked around a pylon. She could hear one of them issue a hushed command on their own comm net. Then the skinny officer left the pylon and made a dash toward the construction barrier.
The adrenaline flush hit Laramie like a ton of bricks. She recognized the bounding overwatch pattern. With the next advance, the skinny officer would reach the construction barrier and clear the opposite side to make sure there wasn’t an enemy hiding. An enemy like Kenny.
Training took over.
“Weapons free!”
Laramie’s Vector jumped as it snapped out bolts of lethal light. The skinny officer took a shot in his shoulder. He pirouetted sideways into the wall and left a red smear as his equipment clacked against the cement.
The kiosk trooper swung his rifle toward the incoming fire, but Laramie’s targeting system beat him to the punch. Instead of relying on human precision, the computer automatically knew when to release the laser blast as the aim of the barrel passed over the predesignated reticle. Laramie put two shots on her second target. The puff of vaporized resin filled the air as he fell backward, stunned but still alive. Still dangerous.
The maintenance worker from earlier began to wail in terror as the police exchanged laser blasts.
A shot hit the cement wall and sprayed sizzling dust into the air. Laramie knew she had to call it. “Battle One to all elements. A is a no-go. I repeat, Plan A is a no-go.”
Kenny snapped off a number of shots in front of Laramie. She heard a clatter of someone in tactical gear either diving or falling to the ground. More blasts from her left announced Maya’s presence in the stairwell.
Frantic shouting echoed off the far wall of the garage. The throaty sound of an APC signaled its displeasure from somewhere in the parking lot above.
“How many still up?” Kenny said.
Laramie swiveled her head and let her helmet computer show the last known location of each target. She counted two down, including the wounded officer by the parking kiosk. Maya’s telemetry added one on the ramp and another crawling to cover on the other side of Laramie’s cargo pod. That would be the clatter, she thought.
“Two in the middle,” Laramie answered, finishing her tally. “Near the ramp entrance. Number three by the kiosk. Number four to my right.”
A burst of fire flew back and forth between the garage ramp and the door to the exit stairway. Maya dropped flat in the stairwell, landing as chunks of wall crackled into brittle shards. Kenny popped over the construction barrier and shot several times at the ramp. Laramie leaned around the cargo pod and did the same, worrying less about actually hitting a target than providing cover fire for Maya. That’s when she heard the whine of a turbine engine and the light suddenly darkened around the ramp.
“APC inbound!” Kenny yelled.
Laramie snapped off more shots. “Maya, you OK?”
“Okay!”
“Kenny, displace to the stair—”
A blinding flash. Laramie suddenly felt like she was floating in microgravity, her hands and feet batting at nothing but the air. Her ears registered noise, but it was all indistinct and unclear. Then the light faded to darkness and the floating sensation ended. A thud knocked the air from her lungs in a single, forced exhalation.
“—ramie! Laramie!” a woman yelled with a muffled voice. A distant rattling echoed in the void beyond.
Still black. Something instinctual lifted Laramie’s hands to her head. She pulled on her chin, could feel the tugging, yet the world remained as dark as deep space. Then her fingers closed into a strange, square shape and squeezed. A pop released the blackn
ess.
An intense smell of ozone hit her nostrils as she lifted the helmet from her face. Laramie blinked several times at the sudden light. Rows of LED lighting shone down at her from the ceiling fixtures.
She was lying flat on her back.
“Laramie!” the woman’s voice said again. Maya.
“I’m … okay,” she managed. Laramie scrunched her eyes shut and opened them again. Her hands held what was left of her CORE helmet, a blackened indentation the size of her forearm carved into the left temple.
“Maya, I said cover me!” someone shouted.
A jumble of snap-snap-snap echoes ricocheted off the walls and reminded Laramie that her own weapon should be in her hands. Where was it? She looked toward her feet and saw her Vector lying against her waist. As her hands clasped around the stock, her brain began screaming at her to get to cover, get to cover, that rumble is an APC …
A flash of dark swept past her and the next thing she knew, Kenny had grabbed her by the collar and was dragging her to the stairwell. A moment later they were inside the landing. Kenny’s face filled her vision, desperately searching for signs of injury.
“You okay, Staff Sergeant?” he asked, urgency in his voice.
“Your breath stinks. Now help me up.”
“APC! APC!” Maya yelled. Snap-snap-snap.
Kenny pulled Laramie to her knees and rushed back to the door. Her body felt like it weighed a thousand kilos as she pushed herself to her feet. But her mind managed to click back into gear, and she knew they had only moments to get away before either a rotary cannon or a squad of reinforcements erased their position.
“Displace and shut the door!” Laramie ordered.
A furious exchange of laser fire filled her ears as Kenny and Maya backed into the landing. Little puffs of dust danced off the thick cement wall from the laser blasts on the other side. Laramie moved to the right of her two squad mates and grabbed the metal door with both hands.
“And … now!”
The troopers rolled left while Laramie slammed the door shut and wheeled to the side. Several laser blasts made loud pops against the metal like an angry drunkard smashing his hands into a tin roof.
Escape Velocity (The Quantum War Book 1) Page 19
