The Unborn

by Brian Herbert

  “You’re going to be busy,” he said.

  “Yes, I will. I think I’ll need to tell Johansen I need an extra day... three instead of two.”

  Upon overhearing this, a gaunt construction supervisor said the wi-spectrum system was out of order, a frequent occurrence out here. The bad weather was the cause, he said, and communication could be out for a day or more. He spoke to Sam of the need for his own private system, with ground and satellite transmission units that were independent of big corporations or the government. It would be expensive, but he could afford it.

  After the supervisor left, Sam said to Meredith, “We’re using fire-resistant construction materials everywhere, making a total fire loss virtually impossible.”

  “It looks good,” she said. She grinned. “I should say, so far it looks good.”

  Sam looked away, seemed to be watching a young woman who was performing some sort of inspection on a nearby building. The woman carried an unusual piece of equipment, like a hoop with a central, illuminated viewing screen on it, and lighted icons around the screen.

  He said to Meredith, “Excuse me for a minute,” and walked over to the woman. They talked for a couple of minutes, and then Sam brought her back with him.

  “This is Tatsy Cosmo,” he said, “a seismic expert. The two of you have things in common, the inspections you’re doing here.” He said to Cosmo, “Meredith is my risk-manager and insurance agent.”

  “Interesting,” Cosmo said, nodding. Her tone and expression were cool, distant.

  Meredith thought she was quite pretty, with short black hair and large, blue-green eyes. There seemed to be something familiar about her, but she could not quite place what it was.

  “Have we met before?” Meredith asked.

  Shaking her head, the woman said, “No. I just arrived from Los Angeles on this assignment, and when I’m finished here, I’ll be off to another one in Portland.”

  “Is that a scanner of some sort?” Meredith asked, nodding toward the hoop device.

  “One of several I brought,” Tatsy said, seeming to be uncomfortable at the question. “There’s a potential problem with the seismic design, and I’m here to resolve it.”

  Meredith nodded, “You must have quite an education to do that, engineering degrees, and all.”

  “I do.” She looked away, appeared ill at ease.

  Meredith said to Sam, “It’s a specialty I don’t have, something we need to bring others in to do.”

  “The two of you will have to compare notes,” Sam said.

  “It would be nice to talk shop with you,” Tatsy Cosmo said to Meredith in a haughty tone, “but I’m sure you understand, I have a lot to do.” She smiled stiffly, looked at Sam. “Please excuse me?”

  “Of course,” Sam said, “but let’s all get together this afternoon, and I’ll show you Sunny, my pride and joy.” He pointed up at the artificial sun. “I’ll be your tour guide, and answer as many risk-management and earthquake questions as possible.” He smiled. “We’ll do it all at once. Does that sound OK with you ladies? Can you find things to do on your own until then?”

  The women exchanged glances, then agreed to meet him.

  “I have to meet with the general contractor right now,” Sam said. “Afterward I’ll meet you ladies topside, in front of the vatorcar dome. At 3:00, all right?”

  “Topside?” Tatsy Cosmo said. “You mean out in that awful weather?”

  Sam laughed. “Being from Los Angeles, I can see you’re not used to weather like this. But you have a raincoat on, and there should be a heavier one in your room. You’ll be fine. Three o’clock sharp, all right?”

  She nodded.

  As Cosmo left to continue her work, Meredith still thought she’d met her somewhere before, but was drawing a blank.

  “Unusual personality,” Sam said, when she was beyond hearing range.

  “Maybe she’s introverted, so dedicated to her work that she doesn’t socialize much.”

  “Or she got into a fight with her boyfriend.” Meredith had noticed that she wore no wedding ring.

  “She’s very pretty,” Sam said. “Almost as pretty as you.”

  Meredith smiled thinly. She liked Sam, but comments like that made her uncomfortable.

  Rivulets of mud were streaming down the dirt ramp. Sam looked up at the open hole at the top, said, “The storm’s getting even worse.”

  Construction workers teamed up to clear drainage at the base of the ramp. Others pushed the heliplane out of the way. But rainwater was flowing into the village that was being constructed.

  “No problem,” Sam said, “we have secondary drains, and the buildings are all designed to withstand this sort of thing.” He smiled. “You’ll be happy to learn, Meredith, that we have established contingency plans.”

  She noticed that the water, while sweeping out into the village, was not rising around the buildings, so it was being carried away efficiently.

  Sensing something, Meredith looked around for Tatsy Cosmo, and saw her standing on a low platform, staring at her with a hard-edged expression. No sign of friendliness at all.

  Behind the woman, a vatorcar arrived and the doors opened. She stepped aboard. Through the glass walls of the car, Meredith could see her inside, heading for one of the higher levels.

  Sam started to leave, then said, “Oh, when you were on that Saturn moonlet Vanni, you inspected a robotics factory, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but why do you ask?”

  “Because I have an agent ready to go that moon now, as soon as the fighting is over and that petty general has been arrested, executed, or exiled. I’m going to see what’s salvageable—hopefully that factory, and maybe the hotel and a cocktail lounge with a roller coaster—”

  “Montaña Rusa?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s it. I just wanted to mention it to you, because the legitimate owners—the Kaster family—have decided they want to sell after General Neron is driven away. They’re going to open the property up for bidding, but before I make my offer I’d like you to be on the inspection team I send in.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’d rather not go anywhere near that place. Too many bad memories.”

  He looked disappointed.

  “I’ll check with Piers when I get back to the office,” she said. “I’m sure he has someone qualified to send.”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” He turned to go. “You go ahead and look around here on your own now, like Tatsy is doing. I want you to be careful, though. Watch your step, or you could get hurt. What am I saying? You’re a risk manager, so you know all that stuff.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Meredith said.

  CHAPTER 39

  At the police heliport, Agent Jantz stood beside the much taller Detective Hagel as he arranged for them to secure a pilot and a short take-off and landing plane, an STOL. The aircraft sat on the landing field, having already been refueled and checked by a mechanic. It was a souped-up hybrid, with jet engines on the hull and the wings. It was said to be very fast.

  The pilot was not there yet, but the dispatcher in the office said he was on his way, and was expected to arrive within forty minutes. Wind-driven rain battered the windows.

  “Can’t he get here any sooner?” Agent Jantz asked. “This is very important.”

  The dispatcher, a woman with curly blonde hair, said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the storm has slowed everything down. Your pilot is out on an emergency right now, in a solo ‘copter. Don’t worry, he’ll be here.”

  “What about automatic settings?” she asked. “Can’t we program where we want to go and get there without a pilot?”

  “Only a licensed pilot can make the settings,” the dispatcher said. “You could program it wrong.”

  The STOL craft had the capacity to carry only four passengers plus the pilot, but that would be enough. They’d brought along just one Seattle Police officer to guard Dr. Yordanius—keeping him secured with an electronic wrist-cuff that was controlled by the o
fficer. They sat in chairs, side by side.

  Irritated by the delay, Agent Jantz paced back and forth in the small office, casting the orange light of her exosuit on the floor and furnishings. The dispatcher watched in fascination, apparently not having seen a prosthetic device like that before. Jantz, always aware of her surroundings, finally paused and stared back, until the woman looked away.

  The pilot did not show up, and after almost two hours the dispatcher learned he was sick, and all other pilots were tied up on assignments. No one would be available until the following day.

  Jantz cursed, but Detective Hagel placed an arm over her shoulders and asked, “Do you feel lucky?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know how to fly that thing,” the detective said, pointing out at the field. “I learned on a flight simulator.”

  “A flight simulator?” Jantz exclaimed.

  “Hey, don’t laugh. I aced it. The instructor said I was better than licensed pilots. I can make the automatic settings, too, but I’d rather fly on psi-link in this weather.”

  Jantz scratched her head. “This doesn’t sound great, but we do have to get there, and time could be critical. If Demónt is at Sun Under, and he’s a murderer... If we hurry, we still might surprise him.”

  She looked at Hagel. “You can fly it for sure?” she asked.

  “No problem.” Moments later they boarded. The guard piled into the back with Yordanius, while Jantz got into the front passenger seat, beside the self-assured detective.

  The STOL roared to life, and lifted off.

  While at the controls, Detective Hagel didn’t talk much. Beside him, Jantz watched him carefully and nervously, trying not to be too obvious. There were periods of hesitation as Hagel apparently tried to recall (or, heaven forbid, comprehend) the operation of various controls. Sending mental commands through psi-link, he tested switches, buttons and toggles, turning them on and off. Rain pelted the windshield, and strong winds buffeted the craft. The wipers went at a furious pace.

  “When was the last time you flew one of these on a simulator?” Jantz finally asked, not disguising the worry in her tone.

  “Not so long ago,” came the response.

  “And your definition of ‘not so long ago?’” she said, pressing. “A week, a month?”

  “Uh, two or three—” The voice trailed off.

  Jantz: “Weeks?”

  Hagel shook his head.

  Jantz: “Months?”

  Again, the head shook.

  “Not years!” the FBI agent said, studying the gloom outside. “Please tell me it’s not years!”

  “Oh, shit, keep a lid on it,” Hagel said. “You worry too much. Flying this thing is simple. A baby could do it.” His dark eyes sparkled.

  “In this weather?”

  “Well, maybe not a baby.”

  A dark laugh issued from Jantz and she said, “I suppose we have to be on the edge to catch this perp. Follow the rules and he gets away.”

  Hagel nodded in agreement.

  “Let me guess,” the cop in the back said, a Hispanic man whose first name was Santiago. “Your simulator license was suspended for hot-dogging. You buzzed homes, small animals and old folks in wheelchairs.”

  “You figured it out,” Hagel said. “Lock me up, officer!”

  Jantz didn’t see anything funny about the situation, and knew they didn’t, either. They were just bantering in an effort to take their minds off the danger.

  “How many hours of simulation do you have?” Santiago asked. “And were they in this model?”

  “You worry too much.” Hagel psi-operated the controls, and the STOL climbed several hundred feet before leveling off. “It’s smoother up here,” he said.

  Jantz didn’t notice the difference. The small aircraft was still being bounced around. She tasted her breakfast.

  Detective Hagel let out a whistle. “Truth is, I’m dealing with some unfamiliar controls on this baby.” He sent a command to pull out a red knob. “Wonder what this is?”

  “If you don’t know, don’t fool with it!” Santiago said.

  Hagel laughed in a comfortable way that made Jantz feel better, but only a little. The detective seemed intelligent, and appeared to be almost as anxious as she was to catch this Demónt bastard. This had to be the biggest case of his career. She already knew it was her biggest.

  The plane shuddered in a blast of wind, and Jantz took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself.

  They were flying over a ravine, along the edge of a tubeway that had been struck by a big cedar tree, without breaking through the tough exterior. Through the plaz of the enclosure Jantz saw that a tractor-trailer rig had overturned inside, apparently when the driver was startled by the impact of the tree. Jantz could also see eastbound cars and trucks backed up, and the flashing blue strobes of emergency vehicles.

  After glancing at a console chart, Hagel banked right. Lightning flashed, followed by a thunderous boom. The STOL plane vibrated, and he fought for control. Jantz watched him nervously. The banter had stopped. No one was saying a thing.

  Something on the outside of the aircraft popped, not a sound that Jantz liked to hear, not with a long drop-off beneath them. She said a silent prayer.

  The fledgling pilot caused the craft to ascend, descend and go sideways, before straitening it out.

  Another flash of lightning and a loud boom of thunder, closer this time.

  “Hold on!” Hagel said. “I’m takin’ ‘er down!”

  This was not good. Jantz said another prayer.

  Fighting the winds, Detective Hagel brought the STOL over the tubeway and dropped to within a hundred yards of the roof. A row of cars and trucks were directly below them, protected from the weather and moving in the direction he wanted to go. The STOL surged ahead of them, dropped lower.

  “Maybe I can find an access road to the tubeway,” Hagel said, “and we can land near it. Then we could walk inside and flag somebody down. I think I see what I want, ahead.”

  As he pointed through the windshield, the craft shuddered.

  “We’re going down!” he said.

  CHAPTER 40

  At the accident scene, Zack’s van stood near the front of a line of stopped motorists that extended to hundreds of vehicles. The tubewind picked up again, and gusts rocked the van. While waiting, he used psi-link to turn the engine and heater on and off, to stay warm.

  Finally, an ambulance appeared from the other side of the wreck and took away the truck driver’s body. Shortly after that a hover tow-truck and a crew of workmen in orange rainwear began removing the tractor trailer rig and its spilled cargo from the tubeway. It took another hour for one lane to be cleared, and the police began waving drivers through.

  After Zack left the accident scene behind, three lanes were available to him in this direction, and he slid into the fast lane, gunning the van to more than one hundred thirty miles per hour. He pulled away from traffic, flipped on the music player. A very old song that had recently been re-recorded came on; incredibly, it was from more than a century ago... “I Will Always Love You.” The song reminded him of Meredith, of the way he felt for her, the deepest love he could imagine.

  Zack glanced at a computerized map console, then slowed to take a tubeway exit. After passing through an airlock he felt the van convert to the clean solargy power of a rural grid system. The wind was strong out here, and looking up through the windshield he saw trees bending, and felt the buffeting of the van. But he had to go this way to reach Sun Under. He was on a four-lane highway, two lanes in each direction.

  A torrent of rain pounded the rooftop, and Zack had to slow down. Coming out of a turn, he saw a line of cars and trucks in the right lane, going even more slowly than he was. It was only early afternoon, but so dark it seemed like much later. A bolt of white-bright lightning flashed across the sky.

  Zack wondered where the vehicles had come from, since he was ahead of the group that had been waiting at the accident scene. Had t
hey emerged from a side road?

  He passed three cars, a flatbed truck and a tractor trailer rig, then entered a straightaway, where the digital speed indicator climbed. The rain was still coming down, but he sent mental commands to accelerate into the torrent. On a turn he braked hard; it was sharper than he’d anticipated. More brakes, then more acceleration as the road straightened again. Faster. He had to reach Meredith.

  The highway narrowed to one lane in each direction. Other lanes were blocked off by construction signs and barriers.

  A loud noise filled his ears, and at first he thought it was something wrong with the van. Cursing under his breath, he let up on the accelerator, then touched it again. Normal response, but the noise continued, growing louder. Was it coming from outside? He couldn’t tell.

  What the hell is it? He looked around for another vehicle, saw only the ones he had passed, too far back to be making all that racket. The road curved ahead.

  Multiple bolts of lightning flashed on his right, followed by a loud, rumbling thunder.

  Suddenly something dark filled the viewing area of his windshield, and his collision-avoidance system slammed on the brakes. The van skidded, swerved and scraped a rocky embankment on the right, then surged back onto the highway. His lower spine took a bump, aggravating an old Army Special Forces injury.

  A black aircraft was landing in front of him, on a highway turn! The brakes were on automatic, and the van skidded. The craft was coming straight down. A white STOL craft, he realized, with jet engines on the hull and on the wings. Gold lettering on the side read: POLICE.

  The aircraft came down hard in the middle of the pavement, its jet engines roaring. Taking control of the van, Zack saw a narrow space to the left of it, part lane and part shoulder, and scooted through it, then steered onto the open highway beyond.

  They’re after me for speeding, he thought. Damn!