An Eighty Percent Solution (CorpGov)

by Thomas Gondolfi

  The drone’s sounds finally receded. Tony risked another quick look to see it floating back the other direction, ignoring the patch of grass that his cloak imitated. Three clicks on his mic sounded the all-clear.

  Martin and Andrea both came up from their nearly invisible positions. Despite the advances in electronic surveillance and visual aids, night remained a playground for the professional thief and saboteur. Tony’s team wore black garb under their active camo, either of which offered little for the natural or electronic eye to focus on outside the brightness of day.

  Without talking, the three walked slowly but cautiously over to the nearby building and began climbing up the patterned stone face. Mechanical tools, designed specifically for this mission, gripped the patterns themselves, allowing the trio to scale the building confidently, if slowly. They opened and slid through an unlocked, nondescript fourth floor window. Despite always being lit, bathrooms seemed to offer themselves as perfect points of entry with no surveillance, and often less than zero physical security. The GAM actively sought them out as entrances and exits.

  Tony pointed at the stall second from the end. There they set up a dummy on the toilet and stored several sets of emergency equipment. Andrea wired an explosive to the stall door so that if it were forced open, the smoldering ruin would announce a compromised escape route. Martin changed clothes while Tony stood guard.

  Martin, now wearing a business suit and a badly faked employee badge, walked brazenly out of the bathroom, just like a corpie who belonged. Tony and Andrea waited until the three clicks over their comms told them the camera outside pointed away. Almost as one they sprinted across the hall into its blind spot. The camera blithely spun from one side to the other, allowing the pair to sprint down the hall to an unmarked door just twenty meters from the bathroom. All this took place as Martin continued to walk up and around the next corner.

  Andrea gave three clicks on her mic as she opened the simple lock in less than four-tenths of a second. After they raced in, Tony mostly closed the door, watching the camera through the crack in the door. The mindless Cyclops tracked back toward them and then away again. Tony clicked thrice and Martin sprinted around the corner and through the door.

  The janitorial closet, like most of its ilk, measured three meters deep and two across. A drain sink hunkered down in the far corner sporting a faucet that leaked just one drop every few seconds. An automated floor polishing bot silently occupied its charging cradle. Two meters of industrial shelving neatly displayed bathroom and cleaning products. Seven meters above their head, a plastic network trough clothed in Taste Dynamics security tape hung next to the exposed ceramcrete supports from the fifth floor.

  Andrea pointed at an exposed bolt near the ceiling, probably left from the construction of the building a dozen or more years ago. Tony nodded and formed a cradle with his fingers. The tiny Andrea ran with a jump into his hands. Tony flung her upward, where she latched onto the support with one hand much stronger than that of most Olympic gymnasts. She quickly fastened her climbing belt to the bolt as a working point to hang from. Tony bent over and let Martin climb up on top of him. Andrea and Martin worked with the smooth and steady speed of seasoned professionals, with every move rehearsed. The trickiest part of the operation involved nothing more than two trinkets eight centimeters long, bearing an official Taste Dynamics seal, artificially weathered to look more than two years old.

  The two devices must simultaneously cut each of the unidirectional security optics, in two precise locations each. “In place,” Tony heard whispered through his earpiece from his crouched position.

  “In place here. Cut in three, two, one, cut.”

  “Augustine?”

  “Good link on both devices,” she replied from her far distant location. “No apparent deception from Nanogate. Definitely high-level information and controls. No direct connection to security except a one-way lockdown function, so I can’t poll to see if this link compromised itself.”

  “Mission complete. Wrapping up and returning.” Tony grunted quietly as Martin shifted his weight. Martin gave him the thumbs-up as he dismounted. They created a cradle of their arms and Andrea disconnected and dropped from her perch into it.

  Martin cracked the door and watched for the camera to swing away before exiting. As a group they bolted back to the eye’s blind spot and just moments later off to the bathroom. Reversing their procedures, they climbed down. The moment their feet hit the ground, their good luck came to an end.

  “Excuse me. May I have your DNA, please?” The security bot trained a variety of weapons on them, but spoke in the most deferential of tones.

  “My name is Tony Meyers, Manager Optical Systems, sixtieth floor,” Martin said, trying the bluff they had rehearsed for an interception inside.

  “Thank you, Mr. Mey—”

  Andrea struck first. Her machine pistol tore into the optical sensors on the robot’s head as she dove to the side. Tony and Martin both fired simultaneously and with equal ineffectuality at the armored body.

  “Must disable before its control gets picked up by human intervention, or the mission is blown,” Martin called out.

  Lightning bolts of pain struck along Tony’s nervous system. The bot’s Neural Amplification Device caused no physical damage, but Tony felt his body tear itself apart. The agony made him wish it literally tore him apart to limit his pain. He shook violently in place, unable to move from his position. While the torture limited his curiosity, his mind processed Martin and Andrea in similar straits.

  After seemingly an eternity of electrical impulses that felt as if they were charring blackened pathways through his body, a tiny white man, his lower body encased in skintight lemon yellow, appeared behind the security bot. A single, deceptively slow swipe of his katana removed its head. Another swing split the body vertically in two, and the sword lodged itself a full meter into its massive motive mechanism.

  As suddenly as the pain had begun, it released. Tony gasped as the cessation hurt almost as bad as the source. Andrew and Andrea lay on the ground next to him. It took him several moments to regain body orientation enough to even realize he also lay prone.

  “I know you’re in pain,” the little man said with a precision in his voice. “The pain was nerve inducted only. You must go before the security force arrives. You have thirty-six seconds.”

  “Thank you…” Tony gasped as the trio wrenched themselves off the ground.

  “My name is unimportant. Nanogate, however, sends his regards. Now, please go. You now have twenty-eight seconds.”

  “But what about you?”

  “Unfortunately, I’ve been seen. Your faces are known. I, however, must erase my DNA to prevent implications. Fifteen seconds.” From out of nowhere the man produced a pair of nova grenades.

  Tony wasted none of the remaining time on the horror he felt as he sprinted for their exit. Moments later, an ultra-brilliant flare of light announced that everything in a 60 meter radius of the small man ceased to exist. Tony wasted a brief glance back. He mentally sent a “godspeed” to their immolated savior.

  * * *

  The Portland rain caused the theatre to leak even more than during their last meeting. The rain always lifted Sonya’s spirits in the past, but now it dragged her down even more into the gray oblivion she faced. In some places, the noise of water cascades covered up even nearby conversations like the sun overpowers a tiny penlight.

  Saddened, she watched Tony converse with Carl and Andrew down in the front row. In a few moments everyone would share her world, a world that had diverged from the others since yesterday afternoon. Selfishly, she wondered if she should allow them to keep the gift of ignorance.

  One of the constant aches in her side increased in intensity to something just shy of a burning brand. She couldn’t continue to hide her own infirmity much longer. They must know the truth.

  Even through her pain, she laughed at herself. She wore the pride of keeping the spies from her organization like a
cloak of gold. In the end, avoiding her mental abilities involved nothing more than ignorance. “You could be wrong,” she remonstrated herself. “He could still be guilty.” Shaking her head, she cocooned herself in his innocence.

  A waterlogged piece of the ceiling chose that moment to drop, hitting the floor with the sound of a gavel. Time to deliver the bad news. Time to expose their weakness. Time to break her dream in two.

  “Follow me,” she said, not even looking at her muscle. She walked with dignity to the forward edge of the stage. Per agreement, Greg and Tuan, the Mob enforcers she’d hired, fell in behind her. They weren’t here for her protection.

  Sonya looked out at the faces that proved, if not their friendship, then at least common goals. In spite of this, she knew over half of them would try to rip apart her vision once she shared her news. She hoped to be able to sway them with logic, but emotion hefted a much larger stick with many of these visionaries.

  She wondered what they saw in her now. She knew what stared back at her when she had checked herself in the mirror earlier—dark, rheumy eyes, shoulders hunched in tension, and a face creased in constant pain. Her future seemed so insignificant in comparison to the rift she foresaw. She had to find a way to keep them focused on the mission. To do that she willed away her pain and her fatigue one last time.

  “I’ve called all of you executive members to this meeting for several important announcements, and for us to make at least one critical decision,” she began, pausing while the others quieted down and turned their attentions to her.

  “First, you may have noticed that Colin is not among us, but Suet, Linc, and Tolly are online.”

  Augustine nodded that the link operated normally.

  “We’ll start with the fact that Colin exhibited frank symptoms last night and is in critical condition. His internal body temperature dropped to life-threatening levels. I could do nothing more for him, so I took the drastic step of putting him in the hands of medical professionals to save his life. Be certain that Augustine helped us forge full medical and a new identity for him. It’ll be months before the bureaucracy correctly sorts it out. I have no prognosis on his condition. Because of the risk, I’m declaring him off-limits to any visits.”

  “What?!” Frances erupted.

  “The reason for the ban is as most of you have probably already suspected. I can now confirm that we have a bio-weapon targeting our group.”

  Several people nodded and others looked somber. No one felt the need to say anything.

  Good, Sonya thought. They hadn’t recoiled from the danger and the fear. “The weapon is of degrading capabilities and probably won’t spread beyond our tiny community. I’ve learned that the catalyst for this disease is explosives. It’s triggered by any number of explosives, from gunpowder all the way to the newest molecular putty.”

  A minor ripple went through the assembly as some who never handled explosives sighed in relief, and others who procured or prepared them took a greater anxiety.

  “Naturally, anyone outside our group wouldn’t know an explosive from a toilet and have never handled them, so they’re safe. We deal with them daily, so you can see why the ban is necessary. The perpetrators know this disease’s shape and its parameters. I may have saved Colin only to put him in the hands of the corps, but his condition forced my hand. If he lives, and that’s a huge question right now, we’ll mount a mission to bring him back.”

  “If they haven’t executed him first!”

  Sonya didn’t see who spoke, but she felt she missed more and more lately as she concentrated on the mere process of staying alive each minute longer.

  “I can’t stress how narrowly he missed death. I may have only postponed the inevitable, however. This disease has over a seventy percent fatality rate.”

  This fired through the tiny body of people like a taser. Murmurs loud enough to drown out the water rippled through the staff.

  “Please let me go on, because our time is limited.” In respect, the group settled and quieted. “Along the same vein, I’ve been hiding a secret and can’t postpone sharing. I really shouldn’t have hid it this long anyway. As some of you may have guessed, I am also ill with this disease.”

  “NO!” three people shouted in unison, jumping up from their seats.

  “Please, hush,” Sonya said, using both of her hands to wave them back to their places. “Denying the obvious won’t change the outcome. I’ve been holding off the ravages of this with my own force of will, but that hasn’t changed the fact that I am dying.”

  This time four people jumped from their seats, but refrained from any verbal outburst. She watched as Tony turned his head away, failing to cover the tears dripping down his cheeks with one hand. He snuffled and tried to put up a brave face, but the bright red streaked circles around his eyes spoke volumes. A vain part of herself felt gratified that not even Christine’s eyes exempted themselves from at least welling up with tears.

  “My liver has been severely compromised and it is only a matter of time. I suspect I have between one and two weeks left. I’ll last as long as I can for the good of our cause. This brings us to the obvious requirement of choosing my replacement.

  “But, before we get to that, I don’t want anyone accusing me of skewing the outcome of picking a successor before I release the piece of news that will shock you all.”

  Puzzlement didn’t quite replace grief on some of the faces lifted up toward her. The question in their minds etched itself in their non-verbal communication—how can she shock us after telling us she is going to die?

  “This message is the reason I’ve violated our long-standing rules of having outsiders,” she pointed back at the hired bodyguards, “and using a meeting place twice.”

  She hesitated, gathering her strength before continuing. “Research discovered patient zero, the means by which we have all been attacked. Before I reveal this person I have to emphasize what I just said: ‘the means.’ Please do not confuse the source with the intent.” Sonya paused.

  “Who is it?” someone demanded.

  Sonya gave a tiny nod to the guards, who sauntered down into the audience to flank the person, to even his surprise. His eyes questioned hers and then his shoulders fell at the response.

  “Tony Sammis.”

  Every eye turned on him.

  “I don’t expect this can be a bad joke, can it?” Tony asked.

  “I’m sorry, my friend, but no. I ensured all tests were run thrice. Only I knew the random identity codes for each of the blood samples.”

  “It seems I’ve been a fool,” he said quietly.

  The room exploded in a mishmash of conversations, most of them yelled. All the while she experienced Tony’s eyes locked on hers. She read a wealth of communication in those guileless eyes. Her faith in his innocence restored itself.

  “I told you we should’ve vaped him!”

  “He’s killing Sonya. That must’ve been his real mission!”

  “With all the help he’s given us, we are so close!”

  “We’re close, all right…close to extinction!”

  “No, I meant winning, you nitwit.”

  “How did that corpie know Tony’s name?”

  “How could he have done this?”

  One voice finally cut through the rest with the power of a bull in rage. “SHUT UP!” Andrew wavered as he stood defiantly. “Now sit the fark down.” Slowly, the group settled. “I know why Sonya did this. Think about it, people. If she hadn’t told us, we would’ve overwhelmingly voted Tony in as our next leader. Am I right?”

  A few grudging and a few enthusiastic agreements answered him.

  “You should know I’ve got this farking disease,” he went on, using one hand to hold himself upright. Andrew’s normally swarthy skin paled to the color of a pear’s flesh. “Yes, that’s right. I was hoping it’s just a cold, but now I know better. I’ve got a rash covering about half my body and a high fever, so I’m probably dead already.

  “All that be
ing said, you need to think about this long and hard before you decide to pass judgment. I still believe in Tony. I don’t think he could’ve done this knowingly.”

  More than one person tried to speak next. Sonya silenced them all by starting to talk quietly.

  “I agree with Andrew. Some of you know of my skills and capabilities. They all tell me that he’s not the culprit here, but rather a victim himself.”

  “Why isn’t HE sick?” someone demanded.

  “Why kill off your weapon?” Sonya asked. “Whoever gave this to him made him immune. Worse, he’ll continue to carry this disease, threatening everyone around him for the rest of his life. Not so confident about him being the villain of this piece now, are you?

  “Think on everything you’ve heard here today. We’ll vote next week,” Sonya said weakly. “Please go home.”

  Several people glared at Tony as they left. Gregori glared back. Tony seemingly ignored this byplay, instead keeping his eyes fixed on Sonya. As the group dispersed, she flopped down into the seat next to him with a heavy sigh.

  “Why are things always so hard?”

  “You don’t believe…”

  “Tony, if I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. From what I know with my skills, there are only two options: they infected you without your knowledge, or you agreed and they deep-hypnoed your memories. In either case, your current persona is not to blame.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “Don’t fret, it’ll play out as it will.”

  Tony turned three shades of crimson before turning toward her, his mouth tight and his forehead furrowed. “Do you think I give one good goddamn about becoming the next leader of the GAM?”

  Sonya stopped herself before answering. “I don’t know, do you?”

  “Fark, no!” His face softened. “I worried about losing your trust and faith…and your friendship.”

  She laughed lightly but found it brought on a cough that wouldn’t stop. For the better part of five minutes she coughed until a thick plug of mucus, tinged in deep red, hit the floor.

  “Are you all right? Actually, that’s a silly question. Sorry.”