Warden 4

by Isaac Hooke

  “Anyhoo, with the aid of my contact, I installed man-in-the-middle software to scrub you from the images in real time once you get there. I’ve also included full face and body scans of your companions into the 3D dataset, so they’ll be blanked out too. You’ll be able to activate this software by transmitting the following data to the cameras when you enter the pedway.”

  She received a share request, and accepted, storing the data locally. It took a while to download, because of how slow the network was, thanks to all the different obfuscation points the connection passed through across the world.

  “You will, of course, have to avoid the cameras built into the AR goggles of unsuspecting passersby,” DragonHunter continued. His voice digitally distorted slightly, because the download was still taking place in the background. “If you can do that, and stick to the pedway system, you’ll be able to reach the palace undetected. I’m sending over route information that will take you almost to the front doors. But be advised: once you emerge, you’ll be exposed to the city’s camera systems again, and you’ll be on your own. Also, if I were you, I wouldn’t connect to the local Internet when you arrive. Like here, the government can use it to track you, by ID. Their infamous social credit system won’t allow you aboard any public transport if you have your comm node disabled, so you’ll have to travel on foot.”

  “Noted,” Rhea said. “Anything else?”

  “Well, I do have a detailed map of the different hangar bays,” DragonHunter said. She received another share request and accepted. “Most of them have a maintenance door you can use to skip customs. There are ten cameras in each bay which you’ll have to disable first. You’ll have about a minute after the first camera goes down until security drones arrive. So be quick. Once you’re through the maintenance tunnel, you’ll end up in the terminal. Proceed to the lower levels, and you’ll find an entrance right to the pedway system. There are more cameras on the way you’ll probably want to get rid of.”

  “Got it,” she said. “That it?”

  “That’s about it for now, yes,” DragonHunter said. “If anything else crops up, I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and hung up.

  Since connecting to the Internet was too slow through the specialized AR goggles, they spent their time playing localized VR games and experiences over their wireless mesh network. Rhea chose the game Robot Wars, because it was the only one she was any good at, after having trained against Targon for a good month during the back and forth trip to Ganymede.

  “Better enjoy it while you can,” Will told her after one particularly harrowing loss to her on his part. “Once we board the Molly Dook, Targon’s going to wipe your arse over the bulkheads.”

  “We’ll see,” Rhea said.

  Gizmo spotted bioweapons in the distance on the fourth day, and for a while the team was worried they’d have to clamber on top of pipeline to get away from them, and thus reveal their positions to the spy satellites. But the Werangs eventually wandered off. The party members weren’t numerous enough for their scents to attract the creatures at that range. Though if the party had even a couple more members, that might have been the tipping point.

  Will joined her after the bioweapons had gone. Rhea usually sat a little apart from the others—she liked her space—so the two of them were guaranteed privacy, at least on the eavesdropping front.

  “So, how are you holding up?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said. “Though I’m getting a little sick of Robot Wars.”

  He chuckled. “I noticed. Too much winning will do that to you.”

  “It’s not a challenge,” she agreed. She flashed him a grin. “Still, you can never win too much.”

  He looked at her sidelong. “I’m trying to resist the urge to remind you what Targon’s going to do to you in the game…”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I won’t play.”

  “Oh, you will,” he said. “You’ll be too bored not to.”

  She smiled, letting her gaze roam the distant plains.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask; do you feel any different?” Will asked. “In that new body and all.”

  She glanced at him. “Maybe at first. It’s been a few days now. I’m used to it.”

  “You told Jairlin the nano tech doesn’t bother you but is that really true?” he asked.

  “I don’t really think about it, except maybe when I use them. Do you think about the intricacies of your body when you go about your daily life?”

  “No, I guess not,” Will admitted

  They were quiet for a time.

  Her eyes drifted to the virtual decoration she had placed on the inside of one of the supports that held up the pipeline.

  “It’s a portrait,” she told him.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “You always ask what augmented reality overlays I have active,” she said. “My virtual decorations, as you call them. It’s a portrait. Of me, made by a fan. A victory pose atop a pile of dead Hydras. Here.”

  She enabled public overlay sharing so that he could see it too.

  “I look at it when I need hope,” she said. “When I need to remind myself what I’m capable of when I really put my mind to it. When I focus all my energy on a goal.”

  The two stared at it in silence for a time.

  “Thank you for sharing that with me,” Will said. “Here’s mine.”

  A hologram appeared in front of her. It, too, was a portrait, framed by exquisitely carved cherrywood. It depicted two happy people, a man and a woman, and the young boy between them. The child couldn’t have been more than eight to twelve years old.

  “My parents,” Will explained. “I hang it up in every room I call home. Seeing them gives me strength as well. Reminds me of the person I want to be. Whenever I’m not sure of something in my life, I ask myself, what would my parents have done? It’s because of them I came back to fight with you in Rust Town, when the Hydras attacked. It’s because of them I’ve done a lot of the good in my life.”

  “They raised you well,” she told him.

  He nodded. “I just wish I could have done more for them.”

  She reached out, and squeezed his hand reassuringly, then released it to gaze upon the plains once more.

  “It’s so quiet here,” she said. “The calm before the storm.”

  “We still have five days to Mars once we’re finally aboard the Molly Dook,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, but I’ll be crowded into the same room with you all,” she said. “Here at least, I get a chance to relax alone, by myself. This is my last chance to do that. This is my calm before the storm.”

  “I hear you.” He folded his knees close to his chest and rested his arms upon them. “I’ve been wondering something.”

  She glanced at him. “Yes?” There was a strange tone to his voice. Almost… accusing.

  “Why did you get so distant in the conference room, when DragonHunter suggested how bad it would be if your nano machines were hacked? You’re worried that’s actually going to happen, and you’ll be responsible for the end of the world?”

  “More than that,” she said. “I believe it has already happened.”

  His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “It was Ganymedean nano machines that caused the Great Calming,” she said.

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  “I just do,” she replied.

  He studied her, then spoke slowly, as if carefully measuring each word. “That doesn’t necessarily mean you were involved…”

  She smiled sadly. “No, but there’s a good chance I was, and you know it.”

  “You seem to be taking it well, if that’s true,” he said.

  “I try not to dwell on it too much,” she said. “If I did, the guilt would destroy me. Instead I try to focus on how I can help humanity, going forward. Make reparations for what I’ve done. That means finding a way to bring water from Ganymede, to Earth.”

  “Ganymede isn�
��t the only place water exists in the solar system,” Will stated.

  “No,” she admitted. “There are other sources. Though Ganymede is one of the easiest to harvest, considering we already have the infrastructure in place on the planet, courtesy of the Europans.”

  “When you have your little heart-to-heart with Khrusos, I’m sure you’ll bring up the water issue,” Will said.

  “I’m sure I will,” she agreed.

  “Assuming you even get close enough to talk to him,” Will said. “There’s that little problem with the Martian government having issued a warrant for your arrest and all…”

  She tapped her lower lip with one finger. “I almost wonder if I should allow myself to get arrested. Just so I can get close to him more easily.”

  Will laughed. “I somehow doubt he’d come visit you in your jail cell. And even if he did—for whatever twisted reason—let’s just say, if you intend to convince Khrusos to drop the bounty on your head, and to sign an agreement with the Europans, doing so from a jail cell is hardly what I’d call a favorable bargaining position.”

  “I suppose not.” She sat back. “Scratch that idea.”

  “Consider it scratched,” he said.

  She stared at the rocky plains. “I remember a time when I thought I was going to be a salvager, living a nomad’s life, roaming the Outlands, dodging bioweapons to get my salvage. How did we get here, to this place? Hunted by assassins. On the road to confront the most powerful man in the solar system?”

  “You know how,” Will said.

  “Because of a little mark upon my head?” she asked. “A mark that has since been sanded off?”

  “Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we can’t run away from our past,” he said. “Eventually it catches up with us, and we have to face it. Just happens that in this case, your past is a little bit more… complicated, than everyone else’s.”

  “I’ll say,” she told him. “Sometimes I just want to crawl into some cave in the Outlands, and simply disappear. Like Veil tried. But I know that eventually I’ll be hunted down. Just as I hunted down Veil. So this is the only option for me, as much as I’m afraid of it.”

  She gazed at the portrait her fan had made. “I just hope I have what it takes to end this. I just hope I can be that brave, heroic woman again.”

  “You don’t have to be that brave woman,” Will said. “Because you are her already.”

  She looked at him, and smiled wanly. “Am I? Sometimes, I’m not so sure.”

  “Yes, but when it matters, you are sure,” he said. “That’s what I like about you. When the crap hits the laser array, you’re always the first one to stand up and fight. You’ll do good, on Mars. I know you will. You’ll find a way to stop Khrusos, even if that means killing him.”

  “Sadly, that’s what I’m afraid of most,” she said.

  “What, that you’ll have to kill him?” Will asked.

  “No, that I won’t be able to stop myself,” she replied.

  Rhea enjoyed the final few days on Earth, and she was almost disappointed when DragonHunter called to announce that Targon was waiting in orbit.

  The personal shuttle craft of the rich SubverseTube subscriber arrived. It was a big, chunky thing, with ostentatious wings and big gold lettering on the sides that had been partially plastered over to make the words ineligible.

  “I wonder what that once said?” Horatio asked.

  “‘Welcome To Your Doom,’ probably,” Renaldo said.

  “Let’s go, before Aradne security arrives to investigate,” Rhea said.

  “What, you think it’s suspicious that a personal shuttle would be landing next to a pipeline for no apparent reason?” Will asked.

  “We can send a transmission, tell them the passengers had to take a pee,” Brinks said.

  The shuttle had landed next to the green zone beneath the pipeline, so that when the door hatch flung upward, the green extended all the way to the ramp, shielding Rhea and the others from the prying eyes of the satellites as they loaded up. That would probably only further draw suspicion to the craft. She hoped they wouldn’t be stopped in orbit.

  The shuttle departed a moment later. True to DragonHunter’s word, the vehicle was unmanned.

  She gazed through the cabin windows, searching the horizon for signs of Aradne forces, but saw none.

  “Rhea, the rentals,” Will said. He and the others were standing near the opposite cabin wall, where the assemblies of several spacesuit rentals hung from pegs.

  She joined them, and together they helped each other don the provided rentals, as required by protocol.

  Rhea didn’t need a spacesuit, of course, since her nano machines could form a translucent pressurized dome around her head; also, she suspected the same machines had reinforced her body with the equivalent of BNNTS—hydrogenated Boron Nitride NanoTubeS—to protect her sensitive internal circuitry from cosmic radiation. But she would follow the necessary protocol, if only to appease Targon, who likely wouldn’t let her board if she tried to enter without one of the rented suits. She’d likewise have to be suited up when she debarked on Mars, as per the decon procedure, which involved an intense scan for contagions. She’d done it before on Ganymede and doubted the red planet would be any different.

  The shuttle continued to accelerate, finally entering orbit without issue. The craft proceeded toward their rendezvous with Targon’s transport.

  It arrived after half an hour and lined up with the Molly Dook’s personnel hatch. The cabin shuddered, and Rhea turned toward the aft section, where the shuttle had a matching hatch. She watched it slide open.

  She unbuckled and shoved off from her seat. As she passed through, Targon was there to greet her, also in his suit. He wore his usual jetpack.

  “Hello again,” she transmitted, forcing a smile. It was customary to transmit when suited up, because the external microphone-internal speaker system combinations built into the helmets gave sound a tinny quality.

  “Hello.” He returned. He didn’t bother to smile at her from behind his faceplate. He seemed agitated, more than anything else. “Get aboard. And be quick about it! Got customs coming to do a search!”

  “Can’t you just leave orbit?” Brinks asked.

  “Not unless I want me engines shot out!” Targon broadcasted. “Now get aboard!”

  Will met Rhea’s eyes. “Guess they thought our shuttle was a little suspicious after all.”

  She nodded. “Looks like I’m going to get arrested whether I like it or not.”

  7

  Rhea entered the cargo hold, crowding inside with the others.

  Meanwhile Targon sealed the hatch that led to the shuttle, so the craft could be off.

  “I just finished talking with the shuttle AI,” Targon transmitted. “It’s agreed to intercept the customs vessels. They’ll be wanting to board it, too, so that’ll buy us some time. Now someone come out here and help me.”

  Rhea couldn’t reach the outer hallway—the others packed into the hold with her blocked the way. Horatio was closest to the exit, and emerged to assist Targon, who wasn’t visible from Rhea’s current position.

  She requested permission to access Horatio’s cameras, and the robot accepted, allowing her to observe from its viewpoint.

  Targon applied some sort of rod device to the deck and twisted. A panel lifted from the floor, and he left it floating in place in front of him. He proceeded to the left a pace and similarly removed another panel. He tossed Horatio a second rod, and the robot helped detach more floor pieces. Alcoves big enough to hold a human being lay beneath each—well, a folded up human being, anyway.

  When Targon and Horatio had revealed six such alcoves, Targon transmitted: “Get out here and pick a cubbyhole!”

  The Wardenites emerged from the hold in single file and pulled themselves into different alcoves in turn. Rhea floated along at the rear of the group.

  “How can we be sure the customs personnel won’t detect us?” Will asked as he lowered himself
into one of the recesses.

  “These deck panels contain thermal masking technology!” Targon replied, as he secured a floor piece over Brink. “Best in the business. Plus, anti-scan tech that will thoroughly obfuscate the interiors. Trust me, ye won’t be discovered. This little craft used to belong to drug smugglers, ye know. Bought it from the impound. Now duck yer heads! And robot, get inside as well!”

  Horatio ducked into the last remaining alcove, next to Rhea.

  Targon moved from alcove to alcove and reattached the panels with his rod device. Rhea ducked her head when her turn came; the floor piece descended above her, locking in place and plunging her into darkness.

  It was lucky she wasn’t claustrophobic. Well actually, that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t quite like being cramped into such a tight space, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  Without vision, her hearing seemed to take over as the dominant sense, and she was more aware of her inhales and exhales, which seemed loud in her helmet.

  “Shut off yer comm nodes,” Targon transmitted. “Don’t be emitting signals that will give ye away!”

  She obeyed, and lost contact with her companions.

  She heard a muted thud—it was picked up by the helmet’s external microphones and retransmitted to her ears via the internal speakers. No doubt it was Targon, brushing against a bulkhead as he jetted past overhead, likely to the cockpit of the Molly Dook, which he called the “bridge.” Then there was only silence.

  Several minutes of quiet passed. She heard the occasional clang as someone shifted in an alcove nearby. Those soft noises were a comfort, and reminded her that her friends were still there, similarly confined.

  When her entire alcove shook, she knew another vessel had attached to the hull. Another vibration a moment later alerted her to the opening of the main hatch.