Rage

by Matthew Costello

  Couldn’t they do this tomorrow?

  But no-he knew they had no time.

  Which meant that he had no time.

  As if sensing his internal struggle, Elizabeth ignored his last comment. “One thing we know is that we can’t send a bunch of untrained settlers in there,” she said. “They’d get destroyed. It needs to be someone with training. Your training.”

  “What do you know about my training?”

  “One thing we did get from an Ark were the dossiers on all the planned survivors, who’s still buried…”

  “And all those who have already been killed or captured,” Portman added. “A lot of good people.”

  Raine nodded, and once again thought about the mission. “So it’s just me?”

  “No-just us,” Elizabeth said. “I’m going as well.”

  Raine shook his head. “No, you won’t. If I have any chance at all, it will be on my own, with as much firepower as you”-a nod to Portman-“can give me. Besides, if I don’t make it, that means Marshall doesn’t make it, and that means this group will need you.”

  “He’s right,” Portman said. Then to Raine: “But I can go.”

  “No. I need what you can show me here, on the map and any weapons you have, but you’re not coming with me.”

  “I can damn well go if-”

  “What were you, before joining the Resistance?”

  He sniffed the air. “Worked on engines. Dabbled in guns. But I can-”

  “They’ll need you as well. And I need what you can give me. But if you’ve never practiced and carried out an infiltration, you’d do me more harm than good.”

  The two of them stared at each other. Reluctantly, Portman nodded.

  And Raine suddenly realized that the power had quietly shifted from them… to him.

  Leading.

  Now-he thought-that’s what the hell I was sent here for.

  He rubbed his eyes. Fighting the fatigue.

  “Got anything? To give me a boost.”

  Elizabeth got up and went over to a shelf, grabbing a metal case.

  “I can give you a shot-a mix of primobolan and testosterone. Some pills for a quick boost later. Your nanotrites still working okay?”

  “Doing fine.”

  She nodded. “As I said-don’t get used to them. When you come back, we’ll get them out. But you’re okay for now.”

  “Good. Now-you say you have a plan?”

  She looked back at Lassard, still tapping furiously at his keyboard. “Yeah. And it involves what Lassard is doing as well.” Elizabeth smiled and lifted the layout map of the Capital, to reveal a bird’s-eye view of the area from a distance… and what looked like…

  … an aircraft carrier.

  What the…?

  “Ready?”

  Raine let her finish, the plan well thought out even if it sounded like it was lifted from a suspense novel: impossible, mad, no margin for error.

  He shook his head.

  “Lot of unknowns there.”

  “We did the best we could.”

  He looked over at Lassard. “And what if he doesn’t finish in time?”

  “You go without it. Get Marshall. Come back.”

  Abruptly, Lassard pushed his chair away from his monitors.

  “Christ. I was close.” He turned back to them. The digital clock above his head kept clicking off the milliseconds. “So damn close!”

  “Keep trying, Mark,” Elizabeth said.

  He nodded and went back to his keyboard.

  Raine said, “How did you know you could trust me?”

  “Kvasir.” She smiled. “He may not like to think he’s with us. But he is.”

  Raine realized then that she didn’t know.

  About Kvasir. About what happened.

  “Elizabeth-Kvasir is dead.”

  Her eyes went wide. She kept them locked on Raine.

  Then he explained how he had been rescued by the old scientist, and how he found him when he came back, slaughtered by the Authority.

  She didn’t say anything as he spoke, but he saw her eyes glisten.

  Hard to think of the crazy old scientist as a soldier of the Resistance. But it was clear that’s what he had been.

  “Fuckers…”

  The curse took Raine by surprise, coming from Elizabeth. Actually made him smile. “Right.”

  She took a breath, the room so quiet now. “When he sent us word of you, he sent something else. Portman-”

  Portman nodded, grabbed a crate pack and brought it to the table.

  “Take a look,” Elizabeth said. “Kvasir’s last gift to us. And they may just keep you alive.”

  Raine took one of the things out of the pack, a long, narrow needle with a small sharp clip attached to one end.

  “A dart?”

  “He sent them along with word of you. Called them mind darts. Only got to make five of them, and we haven’t had the chance to test them.”

  Raine fingered it, felt the pointy end with a fingertip.

  “Easy there,” Portman said. “Get that stuck in you and it floods you with nanotrites.”

  “That would be good, no?”

  “No. That would be lethal. According to Kvasir, the dosage far exceeds what a human can handle. Renders your system under their control. And see that clip?”

  Raine undid the clip from the back of the dart.

  “You can use that to move the person stuck with the dart, put them-apparently-anywhere you want them.”

  Raine laughed. “Kvasir. Crazy guy.”

  “And brilliant,” Elizabeth added.

  “I don’t doubt it.” Raine looked in the bag. “These could be useful. Wish we had more than five.”

  “We will work on making them-but for now, that’s all we have.”

  He turned to Portman. “And what happens later? You said… they’re lethal.”

  “You get a bit of time to move whoever you control around. But then the nanotrites’ buildup will make them explode. Literally.”

  “Nasty.”

  He looked up from the dart to the two of them. It was indeed a nasty weapon. They had been at this for a while and, as in most any movement, had reached the point where they would do anything to win.

  Raine put the clip back on the dart.

  “Okay.” He looked up at the clock. “What else?”

  “Don’t want you weighed down too much,” Portman said, “but I put together a good array of ordnance for you. Wait here.”

  When Portman came back, he put down four guns and a half-dozen roughly made incendiaries.

  “These handguns fire hollow points. Better than what you had. Your M16 was okay, but this one features an expanded clip and autotargeting. More rounds, faster shooting, better aim.”

  Raine picked up the fourth weapon, a full-sized shotgun. A monster of a weapon.

  “And this?”

  Portman nodded. “In some situations, having something that can kick a door in or knock someone’s head off is always welcome.”

  Then Raine pointed to one of the explosives.

  “Homemade?”

  “Yeah. Like grenades from your day. But no adjustable timer. Got about fifteen… twenty seconds-”

  Raine laughed. “About?”

  Portman didn’t grin back. “Just pull the pin and throw it. Gave you a half dozen. Any more and you’ll have too much damn weight. Especially with the ammo.”

  Elizabeth reached up to her head. “You’d be amazed how surprisingly rare these are.” She handed him her headlamp. “If you get stuck in the dark.”

  He took the lamp, then looked over to the table with the drawings of the Capital. “I think I have to do another review of the Capital and the plan.”

  “You could do a quick sketch,” Elizabeth said.

  Raine stood up. “No-I best get it locked in my head. Doubt I’ll have much time to stop and look at any notes.”

  He walked back to the table.

  After what seemed too short a time, he felt
Elizabeth behind him. A hand on his shoulder. “Raine, time you got going. I can lead you to where we got you a car. Will get you to your point of-what did you call it?”

  “Infil.”

  “Yeah. Think you’re set?”

  Another glance down at the large drawing.

  “Okay, let’s-”

  They heard a loud near-shriek from behind them, Lassard at the computers.

  Then words.

  “I got it! I fucking got it!”

  They moved to stand behind him.

  “You see, the Authority, they can communicate with all the Arks. Was built into every Ark computer. That was no problem for them.”

  He turned around, eyes wide with excitement. “But what they couldn’t do, what they wanted it to do… was control when the Arks emerged. To override the Arks’ internal controls and get them all up. The resources in the Arks, the people… all that stuff the Authority wanted. So even though they could check in on a buried Ark, they had no way to command it to come up.”

  “The Arks have operational autonomy?” Raine said.

  “Precisely.”

  “What we have been trying to do,” Elizabeth added, “was crash the Arks’ systems.”

  Lassard pointed at a screen. “This is from one of the Arks-damaged, but with enough systems intact that it gave us a clue. But what you brought, in that hard drive-last piece of the puzzle.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lassard turned, looking annoyed.

  As if it’s obvious.

  “The Authority was able to use their I.T. people, all survivors, all prisoners, to establish communication with the buried Arks. That program’s built into all their computer systems, including the one in the Dead City that you brought us. But they still couldn’t override each Ark’s integrity.”

  “You’re losing me, Lassard.”

  He rolled his eyes and looked at Elzabeth. He was beside himself.

  “Don’t you get it? The Authority couldn’t crack each Ark’s program, which made them totally autonomous. They tried, did they ever. But see”-Lassard gestured at his own machine, to all the screens surrounding him-“I did. We can override the Arks. That’s what!”

  “Great. Then you can get to them, get the resources? Right now?”

  Just as quickly, his smile faded. He looked from Portman to Elizabeth. “We got the override. But what we don’t have is the program-and certainly not the damn range-to reach all the Arks.”

  Everyone went quiet for a few moments while Raine played catch-up and began to understand why Lassard was racing to get this thing down before he left.

  “But the Authority does? You need to use the Capital’s system to reach each Ark, to communicate with them?”

  Lassard nodded. “Right. So now, if we can plant a hard drive with my control program in their system, we can-for a short time-operate from here using their computers.”

  “At least,” Elizabeth added, “until they discover it.”

  “You mean,” Raine said, “plant it tonight?”

  “Your number one goal is to get Marshall out.” She took a breath. “But as you do, you have to try and plant the drive.”

  “Captain Marshall,” Lassard said, “well, he knows how the Capital’s computers work. Not the most complicated system. Just need to find a main terminal. Link this”-he spun around and pulled out the drive, now altered, from the one Raine had brought back from the Dead City-“and once we get a signal, we can get the Arks rising.”

  “And at the same time, our cells can get into position. No way will the Authority be able to get to all of them.”

  Lassard held out the drive in his hand.

  Raine took it.

  “Want me to lighten your load a bit?” Portman said. “Take out one of the grenades?”

  Raine gave the hard drive a heft.

  “No. I think I’ll keep everything you’ve given me.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Now, it’s getting late, Dr. Cadence,” he said with a grin. “And you promised me a shot, some pills?”

  She nodded, and went over to her medical case.

  “All set? I’ll lead you to the buggy. It’s a Monarch. Fast. Reliable.”

  Raine nodded. Loaded down with his pack of bombs and weapons, he looked at the others, studying him.

  Their hope for the future, recently arrived from the past.

  He felt the injection that Elizabeth had given him doing its work. Though it was now near two in the morning, he felt ready.

  How long before it wore off? How long would the shot last?

  “All set. Thanks. Portman, Lassard.”

  Portman nodded. “Just bring our leader back.”

  Raine nodded.

  “I will do my best.”

  Then, with a tug at his sleeve, he turned to follow Elizabeth out of the hideout, through the tunnels of Subway Town, and out to the cold, moonlit night again.

  FORTY

  USS GERALD R. FORD

  The Monarch screamed through the night, a class of vehicle made for the rough terrain and speed. Driving with no lights, the engine adequately muffled, Raine could drive to the outskirts of the Capital with just the reflected moonlight to worry about-and the car’s black matte paint minimized that.

  And, possibly because this was a route used by the Authority, no bandits appeared along the way to attempt to stop him.

  He felt the chemical cocktail in his veins. His fatigue had vanished, though he knew you could only push a body so far. Drugs could mask when you’d reached that tipping point. Mistakes could be made. So as he drove, he reviewed the steps in the plan again and again.

  He knew one thing: he didn’t have time to critique it. No. The time for evaluation of the whole plan was past, and he certainly hadn’t been any part of that. The only thing to do now was think on each component. Think of them as separate entities, separate challenges.

  Self-contained exercises.

  Get to A, take care of B, and then move on to C.

  And on and on, until it was completed.

  All the while being careful to not fall into the trap of thinking about when it was over. When you might be safe.

  So he stayed with reviewing the individual pieces of the plan, keeping them in their separate boxes, never once letting himself attempt to answer the big question…

  Will I survive this night?

  The night progressed, and then he saw it, straddling the great gorge ahead, leading up to a higher plateau.

  A goddamned aircraft carrier.

  It was like something a Greek god had dropped from the sky.

  The USS Gerald R. Ford was one of the country’s last carriers before the hammer fell. It had been state-of-the-art and named for a President whose biggest accomplishment was holding the country together when the shit hit the fan.

  I wonder how much confidence that inspired in the sailors aboard her?

  A road led up to the carrier, to where there’d be guards and electronic defenses.

  But not the way he would gain entry.

  The carrier’s nuclear reactor powered much of the Capital. Whatever insanity brought it here, left its hull battered and dented, had somehow left the reactors working fine.

  The Capital might have backups. Generators. Elizabeth didn’t know how many, or how long they would take to kick in. But as best they could figure it, taking the carrier’s power out would bring down their defenses… if only for a short time.

  Raine stopped the Monarch.

  He had smeared some grease on his face back at the Resistance hideaway. He had on a black jacket, his pack also dark.

  From here he’d be on foot. He grabbed his weapons and started moving.

  Climbing down, Raine stumbled in the darkness, handholds slipping as rock crumpled.

  He’d always hated the mountains. Whether because he was clumsy or just couldn’t get a good read for handholds and places to wedge his feet, he always felt out of his element on a mountain patrol. Here the rock was jagged, with razorlike slivers, slo
wing his progress even more.

  Bad place to make a mistake.

  Of course, this made the idea of trying to get in and out before dawn seemingly more impossible.

  And was there any guarantee they wouldn’t drag Marshall out before morning? That he’d find an empty cell, the Resistance leader dead before telling the Authority butchers anything?

  He forced himself to hurry, even though that made him tear his hands on the rock. Nothing deep-just bloody scrapes-but it still made him realize that his body had taken more abuse over these few days than all the combined tours of duty from the past.

  At the bottom, he looked up to see whether any guards monitored the gorge floor.

  But all he saw was the incredible flat bottom of the carrier hull.

  He started walking to the other side. The drawing he had been shown appeared accurate, though the light was even more scant here, with the ship blocking the moon.

  In one drawing the carrier had been lodged on the other side of the gorge at about the two-thirds mark. And there was a place in the hull where they dumped garbage out, whatever leftovers and junk were created by the garrison of Enforcers inside.

  And how many Enforcers?

  No intel on that.

  Could be five. Ten. Twenty. A hundred.

  He reached the other end of the gorge floor and started the difficult climb up.

  He could see the opening in the hull. Though there didn’t seem to be any nearby rocky perch that would allow him simply to slide in, there was an outcrop close to the opening. He’d have to jump.

  Shit.

  Yet, he still felt awake, alert. Muscles responding well. He could do this.

  He looked at the rock, calculating his move. He could throw the pack in. Might create too much noise, though. Worse, he might even lose it. And he had to remember that even though the hard drive was wrapped up, it was fragile.

  No. He’d have to jump with the pack. Making life a little less easier.

  He made his way cautiously to the rock, as close to the hull opening as he could get. A ship the size of a city was above him, and he was about sneak into it like a wharf rat.

  Raine could now see a bit of the inside.

  Dark. He stopped, listened. No talking. All quiet on the good ship Gerald R. Ford.