Counterattack

by Sigmund Brouwer

  “That makes sense too,” I replied. On Mars, I’d spent years and years in virtual-reality training sessions before anyone even told me I was capable of robot control.

  “I was afraid of that.” Ashley walked forward a few more paces. I followed.

  She pointed at the last few jelly cylinders, the ones she had stared into.

  At first, I didn’t understand. The jelly was so thick that it hardly let any light into the center, where the kids were suspended.

  Then, with horror, I realized what she meant. And what she couldn’t believe.

  Behind us, all of the kids had been close to her age. Not these kids at the end.

  “Ashley,” I said slowly, “these kids here are—”

  “I know everyone in all the other cylinders,” she said. “I know their faces as if we were brothers and sisters. I’ve never seen these kids before. And they can’t be more than eight years old!”

  A shiver ran down my spine. She was right. They did look like eight-year-olds. With faces much younger than the kids in the other jelly cylinders. Tiny, innocent faces with eyes closed.

  It made me sick. My anger grew until I thought it would burst. Dr. Jordan was treating these kids as if they weren’t even human. Like they were cows or monkeys in a test lab. Using them as slaves to do his bidding. Not giving them even the chance to experience life outside a jelly tube. In the early 21st century, all such experiments, even with animals, had been banned. And yet they’d still been going on—with humans this time—right under the World United Federation’s nose. Worse, the experiment was being run by one of their own top Combat Force people.

  I voiced out loud the thought I didn’t want to say. “Are you telling me that half the kids you grew up with aren’t here? And that they’ve been replaced by these younger kids you don’t know?”

  “Yes,” Ashley stated flatly. In the light her face looked a little green.

  When we had first arrived in this room, General Cannon had frantically searched all the cylinders, looking for his own son who had supposedly been kidnapped and taken to the Institute. I now understood why he hadn’t found him.

  “That can mean only one thing,” I said, pointing at the rows of jelly cylinders. “This isn’t Dr. Jordan’s only army.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “I think we wait one hour,” Cannon said wearily to Ashley and me. “By then, Jordan and Stronsky should have finished their monitoring. Then it will be safe to unhook those two boys and let you replace them again. We desperately need you controlling robots on the other side. Otherwise we’re totally blind to Jordan’s operation.”

  Cannon’s face looked older than it had earlier that morning—before we’d found our way into this place in the Arizona desert mountains. As if defeat had taken away his strength. I thought of the younger kids Ashley and I had just left behind us to return to the general. And I thought I understood why he looked so defeated. Another kid. His son, Chad. It must be terrible to think about him trapped in a jelly tube—somewhere. And not to be able to find him or get to him.

  “General?” I said. “I remember the first thing you did when we got here. You looked for your son. You asked Michael and Joey about him.”

  Cannon nodded. “I was hoping so much I’d find him here. …”

  Some things were slowly beginning to make sense. Dr. Jordan had said all the parents of these kids were in positions of power, so that the kids could be used as hostages. Cannon was in a high position in the Combat Force. And besides the president of the World United Federation, no one in government held a higher position than the supreme governor, who had sent Cannon to help Ashley and me. And he was missing his grandson, Brian.

  “I’m not sure if this is good news or bad news,” I said. “But your son may be in another group.”

  “Like this?” Cannon’s eyes widened.

  “I don’t know if that group is in jelly cylinders like this one,” I replied, “but it’s beginning to look like these aren’t the only kids with robot control.”

  Once, not very long ago, I’d thought I was the only kid in the solar system wired to handle a robot. Later I’d thought Ashley was the only other kid. Then I’d learned about an entire Institute of kids like us on Earth. So now it didn’t seem so impossible that there could be more than one group.

  When I paused, Ashley quickly explained that half the kids in these jelly cylinders were strangers to her.

  “You’re saying that part of this group has been sent away, with replacements added?” the general’s voice boomed. “That there are more than 24 kids with robot control?”

  Ashley nodded. “So maybe Chad is among them.”

  “But how many groups can there be?” Nate said. He had been pacing in small circles around us, listening intently. “Each one of them might be equipped as an army, just like this one.”

  “I’m afraid Jordan had access to substantial amounts of funding,” Cannon said, shaking his head. “He was one of the top robot scientists in the Combat Force. We all thought …” He put his face in his hands, then sighed as he rubbed his hands back and forth. “It’s no coincidence that I’m here. Since we’ve got to wait anyway, we’ve got time for me to explain Earth politics.”

  We listened. Some of it I knew. Some of it was new to me.

  Twenty years earlier, the mushrooming population of Earth had made it obvious that horrible things were ahead for mankind. Countries were on the verge of war in their desperate search for enough water and energy. All the statistics and research showed that a threshold of efficiency had been reached. Within a century all the available resources would not be enough to support the projected population, let alone continued growth. A third world war was inevitable. With nuclear weapons available to most countries, it would be a war that might cause human extinction.

  While many solutions were proposed, only two became popular. And these two caused a growing political divide.

  One side called for expansion beyond Earth. Instead of limiting population, they said we should find new places for humans. Like the Moon, where a small colony had already been established under domes. And on Mars, where the dream was to make an entire new planet available for people to live outside of domes.

  The other side called for drastic reduction of growth. Instead of spending valuable resources to find room for more people, they said we should limit the population and raise the quality of life.

  The most difficult issue was a simple phrase: drastic reduction of growth. Which meant proposed solutions like a lottery for licenses that would allow parents to have children. And putting to death “undesirable” people who were disabled, terminally ill, or simply too old. In a Terrataker world, someone like me might simply be eliminated.

  As the issue was debated and voted upon, country after country rejected mandatory population control, because that meant allowing government decision makers to play God with people’s lives. The choice was made to find new places for people to live, which would only be possible if all the countries in the world joined in this common goal.

  This began the next major political debate. World leaders sought a way to make a common political goal possible, without any country losing independence. In the end, the former United Nations became the World United Federation. A 100-year treaty was enacted among all the countries of the world, with a common pledge of resources and technology to the goal of space expansion.

  This was not a one-world government, however, with a common currency and one leader. No, the political structures within each country remained unchanged. Each country elected and sent one governor to the World United Federation Summit, which met twice yearly to promote continued peace and the urgent long-term goal of the treaty.

  This established the commitment of the world to the Mars Dome.

  Yet the highly passionate debate over expansion versus population control left a ticking time bomb within this new world political structure. It was costing billions to support the Mars Dome, and many were angry about the higher tax
es needed for this. Within each country, some of the fiercest opponents of space expansion banded together. They called themselves Terratakers, for all they wanted was the Earth alone. And the right to choose who should live and die. As a political group, they made trouble often. But when it became apparent that they could not change the resolve of the majority by democratic means, they turned to terrorism.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Terrorism,” I said, echoing Cannon’s last word. I’d nearly died in space because of that terrorism. And before that, I had seen the results on Mars.

  “Terrorism,” General Cannon repeated solemnly. “And among that, kidnapping.” His voice dropped. “But not highly public kidnappings for ransom. Secret kidnappings. Over a period of years, they took children of men and women who had influence in the government and military. Even those parents didn’t realize the kidnappings had taken place.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “How—?”

  “I thought Chad had drowned in a boating accident,” the general said. “The river was searched for days, and the experts said we shouldn’t expect to find his body. We had a funeral for him. It was one of the most difficult days of my life. And then …”

  Cannon’s voice broke. “I’ll never forget the man’s face that day in D.C. So ordinary, like any other person stopping me on the street to ask for directions. But there was something horrible in his eyes that chilled me. He asked if I’d ever like to see my son again. Before I could even begin to show my anger at his disrespect for our family’s grief, he held up a photo, with my son holding that day’s newspaper. Then he told me the rest.”

  He drew a breath. “I imagine it’s what the other parents were told. If I let anyone else know Chad was alive, even my wife, they would kill him. Same thing if I let anyone know he was being held hostage. Or if I searched for him. He told me my son was safe and growing up well protected, and that it would stay that way. He promised I would see him in a couple years, and in the meantime, someone might occasionally ask me for a favor. He said if I wanted Chad to live, I’d be wise to give that favor. Then the man walked away and disappeared in the crowd on the street. That was it.”

  Cannon lifted his hands with a helpless shrug. “What could I do? Too little. I’m one of the highest-ranking Combat Force generals, and I was as powerless as a baby to help my little boy. Then I heard about a senator on the other side of the country whose daughter wandered away in the woods during a picnic and was never found. And about a governor of a country in Africa who had a son taken by a lion, but the body was never found. And someone from Russia who had a son and daughter die in a fire, but the police were unable to identify any remains. Each of them had been extremely pro-Mars, and suddenly each, in their own political systems, began voting against money for the dome. That told me a lot. Even then, with my suspicions, I didn’t dare ask questions or begin to look for Chad in any way. I couldn’t even tell my wife our son was alive, even though she was sick with grief.”

  Cannon stopped for a long time, staring at the far wall.

  “The favor …,” Nate said.

  “Favor?”

  “Did anyone ever come to you?”

  “Yes,” Cannon said dully. “TFT. Tactical Future Technology. A top secret research program. I report directly to the president of the United States. Two years ago, when it looked like funding was going to run dry for TFT, I received a note that told me to make sure the money continued to flow for it and to petition the president for it. And I’m talking billions of dollars unknown to the public. I guess they knew I was upset at how some things had gone wrong since I first helped begin that same program.”

  He snorted bitterly. “After all, when a little-known scientist had approached me with the idea, I’d been one of the first to see the potential of this new technology. And the first to convince our country’s president he should go to the Federation’s supreme governor to create the secret TFT program. You see, after the prolonged political battles with the Terratakers about mandatory population control, it was obvious the public would be against trying experiments on humans that had only worked on monkeys. But I thought this robot technology would be used for space exploration.”

  “General?” Nate prompted when Cannon lapsed into silence again.

  Cannon’s lips were tight with anger as he spoke. “That was 14 years ago. Because of my military ranking, the president listened to me. The dome had been established on Mars, and the second spaceship was about to leave Earth. Because of me, the president and the supreme governor arranged for a neural specialist to be on that ship. His assignment was to perform an operation on someone on Mars. An operation that had never been performed on any human. Mars was perfect. We could control the information that reached Earth. And …”

  In a flash, I knew what he was going to say. So I finished it for him. “It just so happened that there was one person on Mars young enough that the bioplastic fibers implanted into his spinal column would have a chance to fuse as he grew.”

  “I had the best intentions, Tyce,” Cannon said to me with great sadness. “They told me the operation would not fail. That they had performed it on hundreds of monkeys. But they didn’t tell me that all those operations had taken place in a controlled environment, with teams of doctors surrounded by millions of dollars of technology. On Mars, when something went wrong …”

  Again, Cannon couldn’t finish his sentence. I was in my wheelchair, directly in front of him. That said enough about what had happened during the operation.

  I felt my anger growing. This was the man who had made an order that changed my life forever. Who had given him that right?

  Cannon found the strength to mock himself with a smile. “In a real way, I’ve already been punished. Because that little-known scientist who approached me put the secret TFT money into research no one in the highest level of government ever expected.” He lifted his arms, taking in the jelly tubes that surrounded us. “Like this.”

  One last sigh from the general. “In a way, I got the punishment I deserved. My son was taken from me by people paid with money that I had convinced our president to approve on the TFT. Because that little-known scientist was Dr. Jordan. We sent him to Mars, posing as an artificial-intelligence expert. But he was the founder of robot control technology. And I discovered far, far too late that he was one of the Terratakers.”

  CHAPTER 10

  With Cannon beside me, I wheeled into the cool air of an evening in the desert mountains. The helicopter that had brought us here was parked ahead on flat, packed ground. Behind us in the sheer rock face of this hidden Arizona valley was the doorway that led to the rooms of the Institute. And above, the stars pierced the growing darkness of the sky, filling me with a longing for Mars, unreachable all those millions and millions of miles away.

  I thought of Mom and the experiments she was doing to find a way to grow plants that could live on Mars. I wondered how she’d react when she found out it was this man who had pushed the funding that put me in a wheelchair. I knew she would tell me to soften my anger at him, something I didn’t want to do. I wanted to tell her all the other things that had happened to me on Earth. How beautiful it was. How scared I was with Dad in prison, waiting for Ashley and me to return.

  I realized I was homesick. For Mars and for my memories of growing up under the dome. I would only get there again with my dad if Ashley and I somehow found a way to stop Dr. Jordan.

  Cannon said nothing as we crossed the short distance to the helicopter. Maybe he was wondering, too, how we might stop Dr. Jordan. More likely, Cannon was angry that we were headed back to the helicopter.

  “I don’t like this,” he said, breaking his silence as we neared the helicopter. “I don’t like that you won’t tell me why you want to do this. I don’t like the way you’ve given me no choice.”

  Part of it was because of my anger. I was taking silent satisfaction in pushing him around. But I had another reason for forcing him to listen to me.

  A few minute
s ago—right after he’d told us about his involvement with Dr. Jordan—I had asked for the general’s password to his e-mail account and access to the Internet through the helicopter’s computer system. When I refused to tell him why, Cannon had said no. So I had informed him that, unless he allowed it, I would not handle the robot on the other side for him. I had been bluffing, of course. Along with everything else, my dad’s life depended on Ashley’s and my success.

  “Last chance,” Cannon barked as we stopped at the helicopter. “Why are you doing this? Do you have any idea what you are asking to be able to access my e-mail account?”

  “Sir,” I said, stone-faced, “I’ve already explained. I’ll be able to tell you later.”

  He stared at me and must have seen that I wouldn’t change my mind.

  “Grunt,” Cannon shouted to the helicopter pilot, “help us on board.” Then he turned to me and spoke softly, “Don’t forget that I’ve already explained something to you too. One simple fact. We don’t have much time.”

  I didn’t need the reminder.

  From: “General Jeb McNamee”

 

  To: “Rawling McTigre”

  Sent: 03.30.2040, 10:31 p.m.

  Subject: Please read this right away!

  Rawling,

  Even though this e-mail is coming from General McNamee, it’s me. Tyce. Here’s how you can know: On the trip you and I and Dad made from the dome to search for the evidence of an alien civilization, I bumped the robot’s head underneath the platform buggy as I was trying to fix the flat tire. Remember? And I asked you what kind of pill to take for a robot headache. It was a dumb remark, but Dad was outside in his space suit, so only you and I would know about it.

  You’re probably wondering why I need to prove it’s me. And how and why I’ve logged on to the e-mail account of a general in the Combat Force of the World United Federation.