The Covert Academy

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The Covert Academy Page 1

by Peter Laurent




  The Covert Academy

  By Peter Laurent

  Copyright 2013 Peter Laurent

  Kindle Edition

  Cover image by Peter Laurent

  Acknowledgements

  To my wonderful parents who enabled me to follow my dreams. I could not have done this without you. Also thanks for helping to edit and proofread this book!

  Connect with the Author

  Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/petes117

  Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/petes117

  Blog: http://www.indianagames.co.nz

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  The computer could have filtered out his brain’s perception of the air conditioner, but the soft humming sound reminded Simeon of his drones.

  He smiled to himself.

  Almost everything reminded Simeon Warner of his precious drones.

  Looking out of the reinforced one-way windows at almost 200 metres up the Tower, Simeon could watch the local drone patrols zip across their air lanes. They weren’t quite as useful as his private fleet, over which he alone had direct control. These regular patrols were just automatons, but they kept the world from dragging itself to hell.

  Then again, he reflected, the flatness of the Chicago skyline was a constant reminder of how close they had come to that. Not to mention the drones’ efficiency at rooting out trouble areas by simply eliminating line-of-sight issues in every city.

  As he watched, a small squad of six drones scanned the crowd’s facial tics and inflections and calculated the probability of unruly behaviour. They swiftly dropped out of the sky and descended upon a group of people who had been walking all too casually towards a Confederate bank. They didn’t stand a chance. The would-be thieves were either disarmed or dead within seconds. How they'd planned to spend their loot, Simeon couldn't guess. The banks' money was only for the Specialist Class 2 Workers. No one else would touch the stolen money if they didn't want a squad of drones on their tail.

  Peasants should have known better, Simeon thought, and been more grateful for the peace we’ve brought.

  He realised he was smiling again, and rearranged his face into his best dispassionate expression before turning to face the High Council.

  He sighed inwardly as he studied their faces. A pathetic bunch. Their looks of worry were so obvious, he didn’t need a computer to tell him. Giving nothing of himself away, he took the seat at the far side of the table as the last Council member hurried in and sat at the opposite end with an excited expression. Simeon cast his eye over the newcomer. His intra-Personal Computer implanted in his eye automatically scanned the late arrival.

  “Excited and spiteful,” he read the words in his eye as they appeared on the Head’s Up Display etched onto his retina. He reproached himself for missing that one. Too much on his mind this evening. He’d deal with it. Or would have it dealt with for him by one his faithful flying enforcers. Whichever was more efficient.

  Looking up at his fellow members of the Confederacy, he had to resist another smile as he realised that he would be taking care of this himself. The member who had come last was none other than General Withers, decorated hero, at least among the loyal Confederates, wearing his usual spit and polish uniform with its four silver stars gleaming in the dying rays of the sun. The light caught Simeon in the eye. The General was an all around pain in the ass for him. But he’d have fun with this when his moment came.

  The General assumed control, skipping the usual preliminaries.

  ‘Apologies for my lateness everybody... I’ve just come from my labs. The project is finished, we can stop this now.’

  He paused to let his words sink in as murmurs swept through twenty of the best people in the world.

  “Best” being a matter of opinion, thought Simeon.

  These were people who had barged their way into their current positions of power through whatever skills they excelled at. Most of them were simply smart enough to invest in fresh water or phosphorus 20 years ago and had become ludicrously rich. Some had controlling interests in corporations vital to the war. And a few, like the General, had had ample opportunity to work their way up the military ladder, ending right here at the top.

  Still, he hadn’t heard of this project the General mentioned, and the one thing Simeon hated was surprises. He waited for the noise to die down and the General to continue.

  ‘We can stop this now. It's not too late, we can shut all the drones down... we can even have elections again, it will be safe. I will make it safe.’

  Everyone was hushed now, as he scanned the room.

  ‘...I have the bio-ID tech,’ said the General.

  The room all but exploded.

  The noise was so deafening Simeon’s intra-Personal Computer took a full second to react and turn down the decibel level. He cupped his hands to his ears. It had been a long time since he’d had an involuntary reaction to anything so human.

  The twenty people had begun yelling all at once. At him, at the General, at each other, or to themselves just to be doing something. Only Simeon and the General kept silent as their eyes met. The General blinked furiously and looked away. They both knew what this would mean. If the General was telling the truth, the balance of power amongst the Council had shifted firmly in his direction.

  The bio-ID concept was only a legend. If the General’s lab techs had truly developed a system for tracking and monitoring anyone, anywhere, without a drone... the implications were staggering.

  He wondered if the General really intended to hold elections. It was hard to believe after more than twenty years. An entire generation had grown up not knowing what it would mean for them. Or what they had missed. Were missing.

  They were better off without the vote. Judging from the way the room began to quieten and look to the General as their saviour, Simeon suspected he was the only one who still understood this. He was the only one who knew what was best for the people. They couldn’t be trusted. Humankind had come so close to extinction and they had brought it upon themselves.

  Simeon stood up.

  ‘What have you done with it?’ he said.

  The casual tone stole away the last of the rumblings from the members in the room. All eyes looked between the General and Simeon.

  ‘Oh, it’s secure Simeon. You don’t think I’d let something like that out of my sight, do you?’

  It wasn’t really a question, Simeon didn’t bother to answer it. Instead he continued in what was fast becoming an interrogation.

  ‘You will give it to me, Withers, or I’ll take it. Save yourself the trouble of me having to get through you.’

  The threat was said s
oftly, as though the General sat right next to him. The room held its collective breath, allowing his voice no trouble projecting to the other end. Withers lived up to his name, only for a moment, before shaking it off. He smashed his fist on the table and stood to address the members of the Confederacy.

  ‘When we formed this collective, we agreed it was a temporary solution. For twenty years we’ve kept order through our knowledge, resources and of course... military might. But it can’t be sustained. There are more attacks on Confederate property every day and by people who merely demand privacy and security.’ Withers looked at each of the members one by one, pointedly ignoring Simeon.

  This was a speech well rehearsed, Simeon realised.

  ‘We have given the people security,’ General Withers continued. ‘We’ve given them security, at the cost of their privacy. We all agreed this was the only solution, that hasn’t changed.’

  Another surprise. Simeon grated his teeth, but kept silent.

  ‘Privacy is an illusion,’ the General said. ‘Apart from our Colonnade, there is nowhere in the world that is private. The only exception is the mind. Sure we can make a good guess at what someone will do or think based on a number of defining factors, but if they believed we knew for certain... the entire world would become a collective just as we are. And we need never have another war in human history.’

  The thoughtful silence at this proposal was definitely not what Simeon was hoping for. At best he’d expected anger from the other members, or at the very least a flat-out refusal. Simeon knew the only way to get people to behave, like civilised human beings, was to force them.

  For a General, Withers was amazingly cautious with his use of power. He’d trick the people into believing they had their precious privacy rather than enforce the law. That was his weakness. That Withers actually went to the trouble of creating the bio-ID at all when he did not even plan to use it, showed his level of stupidity. Its existence would change the course of human history. Being able to know not just where a scanned person was but what they were thinking would be more than enough to put down any attempts at resistance.

  Simeon had to have it. And he wouldn’t stop there. Without even raising an eyebrow, he bypassed the situation room’s security and remotely powered up his drones.

  For the second time in the space of a few minutes, the room exploded. This time with shock, bewilderment and fear from those around him, at least according to Simeon’s iPC display.

  About time, he thought, as his drones went straight for the General.

  Ten Minutes Earlier

  Chapter 1

  The alley was much the same as the last one and would likely be the same as the next. Not that Joshua would take any chances. From his perch at the top of an adjacent fire escape, he could survey the entire area. Through the gloom, steam poured out of manhole covers, doing its best to spoil his view.

  Nearby a couple of people attempted to huddle under a filthy brown jacket, too small to shelter just one of them. Joshua looked at them enviously... at least they had each other. Joshua took small comfort in the thought that his long torn apart family was not an isolated case.

  A few kids were spraying their names or their gang’s name in unintelligible lettering on a wall at the far end. That was reassuring. If a patrol decided to come around that corner there would be plenty of warning when the kids skittered away like roaches.

  It was a rare opportunity to be off the ground. The smell was almost bearable twenty metres up. Even so, Joshua knew he couldn’t stay. He was more likely to be spotted by a drone the higher he got, but at least the human patrols were easier to avoid. Sometimes he made a game of it. He would see how long he could get a human patrol to chase him before they gave up in frustration, usually after Joshua had doubled back and sneaked up on them from behind so he could raid their wagon for supplies. But if he was ever caught, he wouldn’t do so well next time with a missing limb.

  He’d never try that with a drone patrol, they were far more efficient at hunting. The way they seemed to float on thin air as if they were surfing was disturbing enough, but their sleek metallic panels in the form of a shark gave the impression of highly evolved predators. Joshua had seen it too many times, but he still got chills remembering the sounds those people made before being taken for “processing”. Everyone knew what it really meant: The end. No one ever came back from the evaluation centre, somewhere under the Colonnade.

  The bars of the fire escape dug into Joshua’s legs, bringing his mind back to focus on his reconnaissance. He ripped off a strip of air-dried rat with his teeth and craned his neck out. There, near the corner with the kids' artwork, was a dumpster. Where there was a dumpster, there was food. Or at least, something that would count as food once it was skinned and cooked for a week. Perfect.

  He breathed deep and took a last bite of his dinner before heading down, back into the filth, looking for dessert.

  The dumpster was empty.

  ‘What the hell?’ Joshua said aloud. The kids glanced over their shoulders at him and went back to colouring in their wall. Joshua looked around warily, looking for any sign the Confederates had been through here. It wasn’t like the dumpsters in this city were emptied on a regular basis unless the Confederates used them. For as long as Joshua could remember, dumpsters had been the one place he could rely on to find a meal. He thought back, the last time he’d seen a clean dumpster had been when Lucia was alive... no, he had to focus. Drawing himself up, he walked down the alley as casually as possible to the little artists.

  ‘Hey did you know...?’ he started. The little brats stared up at him with their tiny heads and giant eyes. They glanced off to their left, then as one, scrammed in the opposite direction. All that was left was a cloud of dust and a dropped spray can, rolling on the asphalt.

  ‘...that dumpster is clean?’ he finished, to no one but himself.

  Lucia would have been able to get them to talk. She’d always been there to pick up the slack for Joshua while he fumbled his way through any given situation. Perhaps because there was a good ten years separating them, Joshua had picked up few of his little sister’s people skills. But then, he was the one who had survived. Did that say more about the state of mind Joshua had descended into, or everyone else?

  Sighing, he stepped forward into the T-junction to stop the noise from the rolling spray can with his foot. A shimmer off a puddle of water drew him in. He hadn't seen his reflection in months. A sunken bony face stared back at him. He hardly recognised himself. Long dark hair came down almost to his shoulders. Sharp brown eyes peeked out from under the fringe that plastered over his boyish, grimy face. He stepped into the puddle, breaking his visage.

  A blast of light hit him from his right. He sucked in his breath, and shielded himself with an arm. Slowly lowering it back, he looked up and saw the setting sun.

  ‘Stupid, the drones have a red light,’ he admonished himself. ‘But wait, uh...’ Joshua kept tilting his head back until he was looking almost straight up.

  The building in front of him was the Tower.

  The edge of its shadow was cast right at Joshua’s feet, but the shadow and the Tower itself were both enormous, like a gigantic sundial telling the city that the day would soon come to an end.

  The Tower loomed over him, its intended effect of subjugation and intimidation magnified a hundred-fold at this angle. Near the top, Joshua could see tiny specks that must be drones flying out. But a regular patrol would come from the Colonnade, not the top of the Tower. These were different. The specks were moving with a purpose, spreading out to form a search grid.

  Suddenly filled with vertigo, his eyes slid down over the shimmery grey-brown surface of the Tower, the same impenetrable metal the drones were made of, and realised the end of the alley was a mere stone’s throw from the base of the Tower.

  ‘What the? How... how could I have gotten so close? I’d better...’

  Something smashed into the dumpster behind him. Whirling around, Joshua sna
pped his head back looking for whoever had sneaked up on him.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  The alley was deserted as if it always had been, even the two under the coat had moved on when the kids had left. Or maybe he had been seeing things. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had hallucinations on his all-rat diet.

  Joshua realised with a sinking feeling that being this close to the Tower meant a Confederate patrol could not be far away. Or worse, a squad of drones, those eternal eyes in the sky.

  Quiet as a mouse, he crept back over to the dumpster.

  He wondered for a moment how he could have made it so close to the Tower in the first place. It was true he had needed to move outside his usual route more often lately, with food becoming scarcer by the day. But the Tower was on the edge of the Colonnade, and no one in their right mind went anywhere near there of their own free will. He must have put too much faith in the presence of those street kids to make him feel safe, they at least were becoming bolder with each passing year, though they too tried their best to stay invisible.

  He had a new feeling now, as though he was the one being crept up on. He could almost sense eyes watching him. Joshua hated it.

  Being as careful as possible to stick to the shadows, he stepped through a heavy mist from a manhole cover and finally reached the dumpster. He gripped the edge to peek over the top. It took him a moment to process what he saw.

  It was a body, limbs splayed in impossible directions, dressed in a crisp dark-green uniform. On the shoulders, were four bright silver stars.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Stop window shoppin’ Jensen, you’re on mission here.’

  The heavy Texan drawl seemed to come from inside her head, the double-edged sword that was her "intra-Personal Computer". No one outside of the High Council members and certain Confederate-favoured scientists had access to these tools. Sarah hated to think what would happen if one of them ever hacked the software inside her body and invaded it with spambots.

 

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