Another Force

by D. J. Rockland

  “I just want to go get Olinar,” he would say when Jacob tried to teach him protocol. “Will this get Olinar back any quicker?”

  Even if Jacob said it would, Joniver would just laugh and insist on more hand-to-hand combat training or weapons training or field work. Despite this, now in Dunston’s office, with Dunston present and exuding his soldier presence - another Joniver term - Joniver tried to act the part and imitate his brother. His efforts almost made Dunston laugh.

  “At ease, men,” Dunston said, “but I didn’t have to tell you did I, Joniver?"

  Jacob glared at his brother. In his opinion, Joniver’s lack of discipline reflected poorly on him as a training officer.

  “Just a morning joke, gentlemen,” Dunston said with a smile. “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” said Joniver.

  “No sir, thank you, sir,” Jacob snapped off, his eyes bearing down on Joniver.

  “I’ve been reviewing plans,” Dunston said. “I like what you’ve put together, Jacob.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “What problems do you see with it?” Dunston asked.

  “Problems, sir?”

  “Yes,” Dunston said, “and please sit down gentlemen."

  I’m going to have to talk to Jacob about his formality. I love the kid’s discipline, but the protocol is out of place here, Dunston thought.

  “Well, there are the obvious unknowns, sir.”

  “Please call me Dunston, Jacob.”

  “Ok,” Jacob continued, “there are the obvious unknowns, but there is a specific problem that brought us here today.”

  “Oh?” Dunston sat down from getting his coffee and leaned forward.

  “Yes,” Jacob said. “Is this room secure?”

  “Yes, of course,” Dunston said.

  “Are you sure?” Joniver broke in.

  “Yes, I’m sure. What is it?” Dunston was insistent now. He did not like surprises and he felt he was about to get a big one.

  “The plans are predicated on the codes,” Jacob said. “What would happen if the codes we have are incorrect?”

  “Hard to say specifically,” Dunston said, “but generally the whole thing falls apart and more than likely we all die.”

  “Exactly,” said Joniver.

  “What’s going on, men,” Dunston said, his tone now more serious than insistent.

  “You were given the incorrect codes,” Jacob said.

  Dunston’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head to one side. “Do I want to know how you know this?”

  “We hacked the medical lab server,” Joniver said.

  “So?” Dunston said.

  “She hasn’t told you, has she?” Jacob asked.

  “Told me what?”

  “She hasn’t told you how she got the codes?” Joniver asked.

  “She said she had them stored and memorized from years ago and since you two were with us, it was safe to use them,” Dunston said.

  Both brothers leaned back in their chairs and shook their heads. Suspecting your own mother might be plotting your death is one thing, but to find out it was actually taking place was another altogether. Both Jacob and Joniver needed time to digest this, but time was one thing they did not have. They needed to act before it was too late. They must put aside the emotions of the moment in favor of action, and Jacob more than Joniver was prepared for this compartmentalization.

  Elizabeth’s motivation was still in question and although Dunston had the answer, he did not know the lengths Elizabeth would go to. He was about to find out. “Men, tell me what’s going on and tell me now."

  The brothers hesitated.

  “Jacob, that is an order!”

  Chapter 26

  Joniver shifted in his plane seat like an egg frying in a hot pan. Beetle and Peters sat across from him and Jacob by his side, as they made the run down the central corridor. He ran his fingers along his gear until they touched the hilt of the sword. Jacob and all the Angriff urged him not to bring the thing. They insisted it would get in the way and slow him down. They correctly pointed out that if the sword slowed Joniver down, it slowed everyone down. They were a team, and the old proverb is true; a team is only as good as its weakest link. Joniver brought it anyway.

  Leaving the sword felt wrong, Joniver insisted. So here they sat, flying the central corridor to get back to the place they had escaped just a few weeks earlier. The idea of going back felt absurd on one level to Joniver. Why were they doing this? Things weren’t bad at North Command. Plus he and Emily…

  His mind quickly shot a different direction when Emily’s name floated to his thoughts. He could not stay North if Emily was South. And what about Olinar? At least with Olinar they knew where he was, and they could get him out - if it wasn’t too late.

  No one can survive long in the donor tank. Joniver had never seen a donor tank but heard plenty of stories, some of which he knew were exaggerations. He knew for instance, they did not pull your toes off one by one in the tank, at least he hoped this was false. Nor did someone’s head explode. He did believe that the donor tank gradually sucked the life from its victim.

  What would Olinar be like afterwards? Joniver could not imagine Olinar without his lively and vivacious spirit. He was always so full of life and laughter. Joniver thought about all the times he and Olinar had been at market, or stealing peeks at Emily or somehow creating mischief.

  They had to get Olinar back.

  Taking Olinar was at least somewhat understandable, but why would anyone take Emily? Hunter had her one time, but she was his lever for prying me open. What would he need her for now? Could it be Hunter would use her for the same thing? Joniver asked himself.

  Instead of him getting me, we are going to get Hunter.

  “I’m coming for you,” Joniver said under his breathe. “I’m coming for you and I’ll kill you if I have to.”

  Jacob leaned over to his brother. “You ok?” he asked above the noise.

  Joniver nodded and mouthed, “You?”

  Jacob smiled and nodded. Yes, he was fine. He had done a good job training his twin and looked forward to seeing him in action. He anticipated great things from Joniver and hoped together they could take care of the business at hand.

  Jacob knew better than anyone the dangerous game of poker they were playing. If it was discovered they had aces up their sleeves, well, it would be ugly, Jacob thought.

  He was trained as a Guardsmen to welcome death as an honorable part of executing his duty, but he now saw the training for what it was; another ploy to manipulate. Jacob did not want to die.

  His life had been a lie. No, that wasn’t right. Not a lie; it had not been his own, and he was taking it back. He found something unexpected at North Command, and he wanted his life to be his own. He wanted a life built on his own choices and not those of a crazed lunatic who wanted to rule the world. There are too many of those running around, Jacob thought.

  Jacob was both surprised and amazed at how his headaches and nightmares and almost disappeared since his time at North Command. He received medicine now, which he could never ask for while a Guardsman, and this helped. He welcomed the decreased frequency of the nightmares and his improved sleep. He still had nightmares on occasion but he no longer feared waking up and being discovered. After the North Command medical personnel explained his nightmares for what they were, a rejection of the implants, the nightmares encouraged him and he almost welcomed them. Jacob still could not remember what they were about, but he had the sense of being alone, despite people all around. The nightmares were more of a feeling than something he saw, and he always felt things were wrong, but he couldn’t fix it. As long as it was a sign he was no longer under Hunter’s thumb, Jacob wanted the nightmares more and more.

  His thoughts came back to the mission at hand. The problem they faced now was the codes. Jacob knew, not his nightmares, nor Joniver’s love for Emily and Olinar, nor their betrayal by their own mother would matter if they did not execute the mission se
quence properly. The codes had to be done at the right time in the proper sequence, with the Angriff stationed as planned. The plan was risky, but the only one with any chance. He believed it would work; it had to work. He was both proud and scared Dunston had accepted his suggestions as proposed.

  The Angriff were briefed about their assault on the facility housing the machines where the codes could be input. Once the codes are entered, their team - specifically Joniver and Peters - would have control of all the company systems. They would shut down the power grid, the security systems and the alert systems. They would remotely lock stores and barracks, thus limiting weapons and personnel. The sequence sounded really good, and there was a part of Jacob that wished this actually was the plan.

  Jacob and Dunston had prepared and planned. But neither thought to plan for the stowaway who stole aboard just prior to take off.

  ***

  Emily rubbed her eyes and then her head. She had a throbbing headache. She moved her fingers over the back of her head, measuring every square centimeter of scalp. Pain radiated from the gash created by her impact with the bedside table.

  She tried to sort out the memories of what happened. She recalled crying and wanting to talk to Joniver, and then the knock on the door, but it wasn’t Joniver.

  Was it Jones?

  Yeah, it was Jones, she thought, as she put her head in her hands. What a jerk - Jones! Treats me like he is so interested. Turns out all he wants is to see inside my panties. I guess what he really wanted was to kidnap me, and it looks like he’s succeeded too. She reconstructed the night attempting to find clues to her current location and sort out her emotions. She grew angry as her mind replayed the last few hours.

  Stop, Emily, she told herself, stop creating issues that aren’t there! Work on the problem.

  “Where am I?” she said aloud.

  She stood up and walked toward the door, but her head felt like it would blow off her shoulders. The room spun clockwise and counterclockwise simultaneously. Emily fell back on the bed and moaned.

  For what seemed like just a few minutes, Emily lay sleeping on the bed. She was awakened by a banging sound, and she was famished. The blurriness of first awakening cleared into something more sensible and Emily heard a knock on the door.

  “Yes?” Emily said.

  “May I come in?” a female voice said.

  Emily rolled up on an elbow. They were asking to enter? I’m a prisoner, right? “Sure,” she said.

  The door opened, and in stepped a small woman whom Emily thought remarkably beautiful. She had jet black straight hair and piercing teardrop shaped green eyes. Despite her slight build, she moved with strength and grace. “Hello,” she said, “I am Huá Lōng.” She bowed with a nod of her head.

  Emily nodded in return.

  “Like you,” Huá Lōng continued, “I was brought here under confusing circumstances, and like you, I am here for a specific purpose.”

  Ah-oh, Emily thought, here we go. Emily’s fear overcame her and she said, “What the hell is going on here? I was beaten by three men and almost killed. Then put on an airplane and flown to I don’t know where! I want answers!” Emily scowled as menacingly as she could, but it was a look born of panic not threat.

  “And you shall have them,” Huá Lōng said, her hands raised defensively. “You are not here to be harmed, nor was I, although just as you do now, I feared this at first. The men who attacked you had a plan for you, but you have been rescued. I will take you to get cleaned up and the cut on your head repaired as needed.”

  “But why am I here? Why was I rescued, because I don’t feel rescued!”

  “You and I are here for different reasons. I was brought here because of my knowledge of the Regents. I-"

  “They exist?” Emily broke in.

  “They exist-ed. They exist no more. Hunter has seized all power and killed Regent Green and attempted to kill me as well. I was Regent Red - at least, for a few hours. However, our friends here, rescued me.”

  “Why am I here, then?” Emily asked, now more curious than afraid.

  “The young man, Joniver - he is special to you, yes?” Huá Lōng asked.

  Emily blushed and nodded.

  “Yes, I see it is so,” Huá said.

  “But what does Joniver have to do with this?”

  “A great deal, and his brother as well. He did not tell you?”

  Emily shook her head, “Tell me what?”

  “They are the key,” Huá said and headed for the door. “We must get your injury looked at by the doctor.”

  “The key to what?” Emily said and then with a start, “There’s an actual doctor here?”

  Dread invaded her again. The places she knew of that had doctors were company installations. She hesitated. She had never been examined by a doctor. She saw medics, and on occasion, she was able to get in to see a nurse, but never a doctor. The company advertised that their doctor came through each district on a monthly schedule, but Emily knew no one nor had she talked with anyone who had actually seen a doctor. She felt the odds were higher she would see a dragon before she saw a doctor, and she weighed which she would rather face. The dragon was winning at the moment.

  She told herself to focus. “You haven’t told me yet where we are.”

  “Emily,” Huá said, “you must trust me when we leave this room.”

  “I have no reason to trust you.”

  “This is very true, except consider how you were treated in your room, and how you have been treated since. I am about to show you why you can trust me.”

  Emily felt trapped in a game and she hated it.

  “Why can’t you tell me first, before we go out?”

  “Emily, you must believe me when I tell you…you are home!”

  She opened the door and Emily moved forward, one step after another. She craned her neck to see out the doorway, forcing her eyes to go where the rest of her was unwilling to. She stepped out with Huá but stopped short. Emily gasped and grabbing the door jamb for support, opened her mouth to scream. Huá jumped back and put her hand over Emily’s mouth, shaking her head.

  “Shh!” she whispered. “No noise, just walk with me!"

  Huá took Emily by the hand, and they moved, without a sound, into the dim light of the broad hallway.

  Chapter 27

  Dante Ezra Locke rose from his lab bench. The familiar striped scarf was draped around his neck, and his black afro blowout appeared to float above his head as he walked toward the door. He had not had a visitor in days, and he expected none today. The lab was quiet, as it always was when Dante worked. He always worked alone. People were not only boring, they did precious little more than get in his way and interrupt his work.

  Dante had no use for people. He had yet to meet anyone more clever than himself, and until he did, he needed no advice. If he needed help transporting samples or lifting a heavy crate, he asked for it, under the condition the helper did not stay longer than necessary and did not speak. Dante gave specific instructions and expected them to be carried out. Other than menial tasks, he did not need people. He made this as clear as he possibly could.

  Dante opened the door, and two tall men walked in. Dante recognized them both. The first was Director Hunter and the other man was a division head named Bruder. Jacob Jonathan Bruder was Hunter’s brother-in-law, Dante recalled.

  Regardless of who they were, almost everyone was taller than Dante, and any comment on his diminutive stature made his blood run hot.

  “Mr. Locke-” Hunter said.

  “Dante,” Dante interrupted. He did not care who this guy was, he would address him appropriately. “My name is Dante; call me Dante.”

  “Very well, Dante,” Hunter continued, shooting a glance at Bruder. “We have come to check on progress of the serum.”

  “I’ve made progress.”

  “In what way?” Bruder asked.

  “In every way,” Dante said, as he sat back down at his bench and leaned over his work.

&n
bsp; “Please list three specific ways,” Hunter persisted.

  Dante sighed. He had no use for either of these two, but especially for the self-important, egotistical Hunter. “One, the carrier is stable at body temperature for three days. Two, the virus targets the specified neural transmitters and these alone. Three, the side effects have been minimized to possible headaches, nightmares, and depressive thinking for up to three weeks. Satisfied?”

  Dante paused and muttered, “I am so impressed you can count to three.”

  “Excellent! Most Excellent!” said Hunter. “When can we start distribution?”

  “Distribution?” Dante said. “What distribution? This virus is targeted for specific individuals after extensive testing and DNA matching. There is no distribution! Applied in the proper way, we can help those with learning and cognitive disorders improve. But widespread distribution is beyond ridiculous, it’s insane. Please leave my lab now.”

  “You do realize who we are?” Hunter looked at Dante not smiling, but not frowning either. His face was expressionless yet full of emotion. He made Dante quite uncomfortable.

  Dante answered, “Yes, and you do realize my IQ is at least the sum of both yours. Please leave my lab. I have work to do." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

  Hunter’s jaw tightened. He was not pleased with Dante’s little tirade but ignored it for the moment. The important thing was the virus was ready, and with the virus came the total elimination of the terror threat. The virus eliminated the terrorists not by killing them but by changing them. Hunter preferred to think of it as controlling the terrorists. The virus was the control that people lacked over themselves, and Hunter saw this as both desirable and essential.

  “At the end of the day, if you want to keep people safe,” Hunter often said, “you need the right kind of people.”

  Dante’s poor attitude aside, Hunter felt he had done a spectacular job. Eliminating Dante was just too bad, especially since he would be permanently eliminated. Having too many people who understood the virus would lead to a plethora of unnecessary questions.