by Tobias Roote
Jannson resumed being the staunch ally of Ferris, which, as it turned out, was all that was needed to tip the balance in Ferris’ favour. The scientists caved in and Ferris got a bigger section of Ferrazite inserted. Microscopic in comparison to the amount Callaghan had, but it was enough to see improved results in his reaction times, speed and pain thresholds.
Now, several months later, he had progressed to the point whereby the Ferrazine had affected his mental state, corrupting his values and replacing them with a sense of newly formed misguided principles, all a product of his own increasingly unhinged mind. Developing plans within plans, he had used his increased intelligence to forge a secret group of fifth columnists. Having informed them of what was afoot, they were all opposed to the idea of their way of life being upended to meet the suspect ideals of an alien who had, somehow, hoodwinked the President into disembowelling the law enforcement structure of the USA and intended to hand over all the new power and technology to America’s enemies. Ferris admittedly wasn’t being honest with them, but in his mind they were just the means to an end and they weren’t being paid for their mental faculties.
These die-hards, that were either gun-carrying independents or religious cult types, were perfect fodder for Ferris who needed to build a militia network that he could use to gain control of the Fortress. With the latest technology in his hands, and the override codes, he would be able to expand quickly and seize power with the assistance of other outside groups he was secretly working to bring onboard.
Jannson didn’t know his full plan, only thinking as far as his religious mania allowed him. The guy was getting more unhinged by the day and seemed to be falling into an obsessive depression that would soon become a liability, Ferris thought.
He still needed him though, especially as the metal was having a disastrous effect on his health at present. Despite all the apparent advantages, Ferris was suffering badly and although he put a brave face on it, he knew he wasn’t fooling the scientists. His bio readings told them all they needed to know, but being what they were they were more interested in his ability to resist the increasing pain.
They had, by chance, found a way of increasing the speed of transformation by agitating the brain tissue which secreted an enzyme responsible for dissolving the metal. The end result was Ferris was constantly approaching saturation point in his bloodstream and they were having to clean his blood more frequently to extract the Ferrazine.
Jannson was instructed to make sure the extracted alloy was kept secure as Ferris’ group intended to use it on themselves at a point in the future, when they had control of the Fortress. Hopefully, Jannson would be able to hold it together long enough for that to happen.
Ferris had already planned for an accident to happen to Jannson when he was no longer required. The last thing he needed, was an unhinged mad scientist running amok. One megalomaniac general was enough, he chuckled half seriously to himself.
Now, they were just waiting for completion of the prototype of the city-sized shields. These were the latest designs with the new scaled-up ‘power to density’ stabilisers that made all the difference to the theoretical moels they had run.
It was agreed it should be first installed at the Fortress where testing could be carried out in-situ. Nobody at the White House or the Pentagon, except those in the know realised this worked very nicely into the conspiracy, and Ferris, quite rightly, felt pleased with their progress. It won’t be long now, he thought to himself gleefully.
***
Over the next few months Zeke and Zirkos developed into a powerful team. While Zeke managed the real life issues as problems arose on the planet, Zirkos maintained a close eye on the technical aspects of their operation ; ensuring that Ferris and others weren’t trying to deviate from the Jenari coding that Ship had handed down. Zirkos found it was easier than trying to understand the humans’ ability for subterfuge and manipulation of the smallest advantage for often little, or no gain.
Zirkos left these issues to Zeke, whose previous military experience in guerilla fighting tied in nicely with his developing skill as a politician. He hated being compared to the breed. Politicians, Zeke postulated, were self-serving assholes, it was their very nature to put themselves first in everything. Zirkos repeatedly pointed out that Zeke was excellent at the political infighting. He had an intuitive ability to detect efforts to undermine their plans and had it not been for that, they might yet have been up to their necks in a global political quagmire.
After three months of building and ironing out the bugs of the defensive shields, and without advising the USA of their intentions, the two of them paid a follow-up visit to the Chinese President. Unlike their first visit where the protection was minimal this time there were guards within the offices. As a result, they were nearly drawn and quartered by some very fast aggressive palace guards that were all over them the second they materialised. Luckily, the shields kicked in just at the moment Zirkos would have been cleaved in two, thus saving mankind from an inestimable tragedy. The Chinese were clearly quick learners.
It took some time to convince Zhao Wei that their intentions were honourable. After another face-off between them and the guards, the two developed a healthy regard for the armed zealots who flung themselves at their shields in a pointless effort to overpower them and toss them into the palace jails.
Finally, when they reached a point where Zhao Wei himself became tired of the pointless tirade he got his soldiers to stand down. He then, as originally requested, called his scientists in and ordered them to look at the plans for the shields that had been redesigned by the Americans, based on Zirkos’ patterns. There was a lot of bowing and scraping as the scientists took in the ramifications of the blueprints and the samples that Zirkos handed to the President. These were left in the full knowledge that they would immediately reverse engineer them in an effort to ensure there were no surprises in store for them against the plans they had been given.
A month later, and the Chinese factories were manufacturing at such a fast rate, that the supply of nanobots, secured in the hands of the pod AI, became dangerously close to falling behind.
Ship noted that each time Pod seemed to get to saturation point, it somehow re-balanced its resources and soldiered on, seemingly capable of additional capacity. Zirkos himself kept meaning to check on Pod’s arrays, but everything seemed to be moving at such a high speed and there never seemed time.
The Russians who had been given the blueprints at the same time as the Chinese, were still arguing over who was going to do the manufacturing. Limited supplies had begun to emerge, but typically only the leading classes managed to obtain them, and only after heavy bribes to the Russian mob whose stranglehold on the country's economy was total. Their control over transportation, oil, food grain, imports, and all major manufacturing, caused Zeke and Zirkos to reconsider their plans for that region.
They needed to break the deadlock otherwise Russia would not be able to keep up with the rest of the world and Zeke’s objectives would be compromised. Rejigging the plans meant that they would have to put themselves at some risk, but the progress of the overall shield design in the hands of the Americans and the Chinese, had brought about some major advances that would benefit everyone.
The shields were now linked directly to the individuals bio-signature, so could only be used by the registered wearer which was recorded in the initial set-up. This same feature also measured the vital signs of the user and could detect from the biofeedback when a threat may be developing, even if there was no overt act by third parties.
It relied heavily on the personal circumstances of the user. If they were constantly at risk through their work, or by circumstances, then the shield identified with their general pattern and adjusted its norm accordingly.
Ship had been busy too. It had followed Zirkos’ suggestions about technical implants that the Maker had discovered but put aside, while designing the new Warrior T-ship. It had come up with devices that it inserted into
their craniums using the d-field, then using nanites to fuse them to the auditory and speech centres allowing them to communicate without using direct voice. Like thought transfer, but using the physical nerve centres to reproduce sounds via the communicator which was best described as a digital voicebox. You had to think what you wanted to say, but instead of using your throat to form the words the communicator understood when to convert the signal to digital and then transmitted it over the new limited network. It took a bit of practice before Zeke could master it, but Zirkos took to it immediately having survived as an AI prior to being reconstituted.
The communicator only worked when the range was direct line of sight and Pod had no spare capacity to run the protocols which meant it could not act as a relay. They were considering a set of relay satellites around the planet, but this was temporarily shelved due to a lack of time. They decided that they didn’t want to put the Jenari’s satellite plans into the hands of the Fortress scientists at this time, especially as Earth wasn’t ready for some of the tech involved.
The implants proved extremely valuable when Zeke was working with foreign governments, as when language issues arose, Ship could translate seamlessly. It was definitely on the list to be expanded up and distributed, but it would be a low prority.
Currently, they were in the undesirable position of having to go to the surface and start a ruckus with the Russians. Bearing in mind these people rarely took orders from anyone, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience for anybody.
Necessary though, thought Zeke, as he checked off his points before D-Jumping to the meeting in Moscow Central. He would need to get all of the major powers onto the same page before moving onto the next phase. If the Russians wouldn’t play ball now, they would oppose them in the future. ‘Stubborn is as stubborn does’, he reminded himself.
Zeke told Ship to jump him ; Zirkos was going to stay behind and keep watch for any surprises. Besides, Zeke did much better when he was on his own. He thought that it might be that the silvery skin of Zirkos put other peoples’ concentration off.
- 20 -
Zeke materialised within a large open plan office which had typically ostentatious furnishings and fine views of the Moscow skyline. Ship had placed him close to the wall furthest from any doors so he couldn’t get jumped from behind before his shield took full control. They had got the delay down to half a second, but, since the Chinese guards sword incident, they had been a little coy about just walking into a beartrap.
There were four well-dressed businessmen in the room and Zeke could see they had their personal forcefields on. Either they didn’t trust each other, or they were anticipating trouble. Zeke decided the former was the more likely as they hadn’t been expecting him.
“Gentlemen, I know I wasn’t invited to this meeting, but we have much to discuss, so I took the liberty of inviting myself,” he informed them casually as he walked towards them knowing they were going to be startled at his sudden appearance. They didn’t yet understand the D-field’s abilities and him just arriving like this would really spook them.
They whirled to face him, guns coming out of jackets and belts until they recognised him from earlier visits and realised he was also protected by a shield. They backed off nervously, waving their weapons in front of them, their suspicious natures reading the worst into the situation. Zeke didn’t want them to think they could behave like this in front of him or Zirkos so decided to teach them a small lesson. He silently commanded Ship to remove their weapons showing his impatience at their behaviour and the extent of the power he wielded. He’d noted before jumping, that their bodyguards were nowhere in evidence, so it was obviously more of a private get together.
As their hands emptied, their stances changed from aggressive to defensive. They would be at their most dangerous until they settled down to hear what he had to say. Zeke remained wary. Russians liked their toys, but it didn’t mean they were harmless without them so he kept a respectful distance. Shields aside, he didn’t want to get that close to these people who had a reputation for extreme violence.
Zeke leaned against the back of a lounge chair opposite them, folded his arms and crossed his feet, maintaining as casual a pose as possible. He eyed the four of them and finally decided they weren’t going to try and jump him. The mentality that was ingrained often over-rode the awareness that the shield wouldn’t allow them to harm Zeke, or each other. It often took a while to relax, even now Zeke had his moments when he forgot the forcefield would protect him.
These four high-flying businessmen were supposed to be moving the technology forward in Russia and its neighbouring allies. However, they all originated from old-world mafia groups who benefited enormously from drugs, sex, oppression, extortion and murder. They were obviously reluctant participants in a future that would undermine and even eradicate their ability to operate. They weren’t directly in charge of the technology development, but the workforce was pretty much their bailiwick and as such Zeke needed to get them on-side, one way or another. He spoke to them in English knowing they all spoke it fluently.
“It has come to our attention that you are deliberately refusing to support the manufacturing of this new technology because it defeats your oppressive system of intimidation and control of your own people.” He paused.
“That’s very sad,” he added sardonically.
The four men remain stony-faced, they had no idea why Zeke was here, or what he was going to do. They’d never admit it to themselves, or each other, but they were afraid of him, or more importantly what he could do, but at least Zeke now had their undivided attention.
Zeke changed his demeanour to one of positive assertiveness, clapping his hands together as if the problem was going to be solved immediately.
“Now, I completely understand your sense of impending loss, as you would no longer have the ability to kill, maim or beat into submission the people who cannot pay you, distribute your drugs, or steal for you.”
“This is so, yes ?” He waved his right hand flamboyantly.
No comment. The Russians remained totally impassive. They weren’t enjoying the fact that Zeke had invaded their private sanctum and there was nothing they could do about it. They didn’t know it, but things were about to get a lot worse.
Zeke smiled.
“So, what should we do about this little problem that needs to, how do you like to say it in Russia, ‘разойтись’ ?” He silently acknowledged Ship’s extensive Russian vocabulary and his quiet translation of the phrase ‘go away’ so that Zeke could take advantage of it for effect.
He looked directly at the big bear of a man dressed in an Armani suit that probably cost him at least one-hundred-thousand roubles ; his unruly unkempt beard didn’t fit his dress sense. Novamursky’s eyes bored into him, baleful and full of malice, as he tried to make Zeke cower from his presence alone. Typical Russian, Zeke thought. So many years of living off a fearsome reputation, now they themselves were afraid of losing control.
Zeke smiled at him, all the time thanking the stars he had the shield and a quick D-field exit should he need it. It was almost a shame that he never got the chance to test his growing extraordinary strength and speed. The risks were always deemed impractical. However, this was one time he wouldn’t have argued. The Russian on his own, was formidable. With his comrades in arms, he was downright scary.
“Novamursky, you are the money man behind this little Mafioso, yes ?” It wasn’t really a question, but Zeke looked at him as if expecting a response. None came.
“So, here’s the deal. If you want to keep all your money, stop strangling the businesses that need to invest in the machinery to build the equipment to manufacture the shields. I suggest you charge no more than a half percent interest rate. I think that would be perfectly acceptable. Agreed ?” Zeke nodded his head trying to get him to agree.
Novamursky didn’t move, except to lick his lips, his eyes furtively looking at the others for their reaction. Zeke wasn’t exp
ecting a response. He was putting their options in front of them in the same way they would do business. There were none and they knew it.
The man next to him was possibly of Italian or Sicilian descent, judging by his black wiry hair, olive skin and meatball gravy stains on his suit. He was an opportunist and they had watched his operation for weeks, waiting to see what they were going to do with the opportunity to gear up all the factories for this operation.
“Putschinski, your control of the factory workers is such that they will do anything that you ask, and I am doing the asking, so you need to pay attention.” Zeke clicked his fingers pointedly at him, knowing full well it would rile him. It was exactly the mannerism he used in the restaurants he ate lavish meals in, but never paid for.
The desk was the only thing standing between them at this moment. Zeke could see the tension in the man’s stance, but he wasn’t finished with the man yet.
“I want all workers to be given your unions’ full support in setting up the manufacturing plants to get these shields built. I know you will want to control the overtime and the shift pay, but I warn you to be scrupulously fair, or my people will land and take over your operation and I will personally drop you in the middle of Siberia with no shoes on.” He nodded his head to reinforce his last point.
Zeke had already rescued one poor manager who had tried hard to convince Putschinski, and who had been beaten up and left shoeless in the forest, miles from Moscow. He would have been dead in minutes from the cold. Instead he had a warm reception in the space lounge before being returned home to await further news. They had rescued dozens more just like him.
Putschinski blanched, as he realised they were aware of his favourite means of dealing with dissidents. Safe in the knowledge that he or his men were innocent of any murder, they let nature do their job for them. The wolves got fed, the rumour mills kicked in and Putschinski never had to do anything more than just mention how cold it could get, for people to suddenly become pliant and agreeable to his demands.
