Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy
Page 8
"Well Rod, first you have to get through me."
Rod swilled the last of his drink around in the glass, eyes glazed as if hypnotized by the clinking, swirling cubes slowly melting to nothing. He looked glum. "I don't understand this. I've only been here . . . shit; you could measure it in hours!" He said it as if he was amazed at some change in him . . . as if he was on the verge of something unthinkable.
"In my experience when people enter the realm of Regan, it's like that. Things happen. It's as if everything that went before, they realize was structured, walled, regular, and predictable and then somehow, I see it in their eyes, they feel like they've entered another dimension. Around Regan everything seems possible, more immediate, spur of the moment, outside all boundaries, and you get the feeling things are going to continue to happen, usually good things."
"You feel it too?" Rod was sitting up now, shaking his head.
"I see it, I experience it, and I admire it. It's easier to swim with schools, always in the same direction. It takes courage to swim the other way. Regan's not afraid to make her own decisions about the direction she swims. We see it and we like it. Rod, I have some advice for you, there are probably many secrets to success. One I like is this. Prepare for opportunity when it comes."
Rod slid back in the seat reflecting. "What has that got to do with this? Shit I've been preparing all my life. I'm primed for action."
"Exactly . . ."
"What are you saying?"
"I guess Rod, the question is, is this opportunity, here, the opportunity of your lifetime?"
"I'm military."
"Boundary thinking Rod, you're a man, currently in the military."
For a few minutes nothing more was said.
"Are you offering me a job?"
"Again, boundary thinking, do you need a job? Or are you the sort of person people want to have in their team. Do you want security of a formal position, or would you prefer we couldn't do without you? What sounds better? What sort of person are you?"
"Shit, what are you, a motivator or something?"
"If that's a big part of what you need you're not right for here."
"I'm my own man, I'll never compromise my integrity, and part of that is that I'm no spy, not for them or you. And, I'm an American, I won't betray my country. I'll defend it to my death."
"And so will Regan. Your thinking is all one country against another, again, boundaries. That's not how Regan thinks. You need to know that Regan, and there are many others, would also fight to defend America, Russia, China, in fact every nation; but not just so that any one of them, or any group comes out top dog."
Rod slumped deeper into his chair. "I haven't even heard from my superiors, what does that tell you?"
"You won't hear from them for a while."
"I won't?"
"No, you've been seconded to Hillary Station; a special request was made to the President."
Rod sat bolt upright. "What special request . . . by whom?"
"By me."
* * *
The STEIN Traveler
Leah lay on the wide bunk, hands at her sides, feet together, staring glazed and blank at the ceiling. It was an unconscious pose, like the woman she had laid out in the Medlab. She couldn't think of it as Regan. For the moment she couldn't bring herself to picture the damage, and was already trying unsuccessfully to blot out the memory. For her there had been no screaming distraction of departure, no sonic boom. In the Interceptor everything was calm. She hadn't even known they were taking off. All she knew at that moment was lying on the body, raising her head to see the gaping hole, the blood and brain, the bile in her own throat, choking back the vomit, desperately, hopelessly trying to do CPR. Then the cold, Hams voice telling her to step back, rolling away to sit, back to the wall, hands over her face, peering between her fingers in horror, and the frost appearing, a blue light, The body encased and chilled, like a cadaver. And she remembered losing it at that point, beginning to sob uncontrollably, but not for long.
Hours it had seemed, probably less, and then the doors opened, the gurney waiting. This was better ground, less shame and she had handled herself well she knew. Lifting the chilled body she hadn't sobbed, not once and following it down the corridor into the Medlab had been fine, awful but fine. Then removing the suit she had sobbed just once, as she reached for the nub at the neck, just moving to instruction but she couldn't help pausing, and looking and realizing . . . She sobbed again, rolling back into a foetal curl.
Ham watched, monitoring and concerned. At some level, he wanted to help but he was busy, very busy. Busy searching, somewhere else in the ship, groping in darkness or so it seemed, looking for something, anything, more than data, more than information, some spark . . . to relight a fire.
[Halloo! Can you hear me?]
[Are you there?]
[Shit, shit, shit . . . Are you there . . . Anywhere? Hello . . .]
Words there, floating, having the sense of presence, of tangible reality but no connection, to anything and no meaning.
Replay them.
[Halloo! Can you hear me?]
[Are you there?]
[Shit, shit, shit . . . Are you there . . . Anywhere? Hello . . .]
Replay them!
[Halloo! Can you hear me?]
[Are you there?]
[Shit, shit, shit . . . Are you there . . . Anywhere? Hello . . .]
Replay them . . .?
[Halloo! Can you hear me?]
[Are you there?]
[Shit, shit, shit . . . Are you there . . . Anywhere? Hello . . .]
. . . . . . Ham? . . .
[Ham . . . ?] . . . [Is that you? What happened? Where am I?]
And immediately there was a view. A woman's body, familiar, naked, lying on a gurney, face up with hands at sides. It was a right side profile, the body very still. Other than the woman the room from this perspective was empty. But it was the Medlab she knew. On second glance the tubes were obvious, from the nose and stomach. The skin looked very pale although the legs, arms and torso were well muscled, chiseled in fact. The woman looked very fit and healthy.
[Ham . . . ?] . . . [That's me isn't it? Why am I there, on that Gurney? I shouldn't even be in the Medlab]
There was no reply.
[What's going on Ham?]
[Ham?]
A pause . . . the sense that he was going to speak, then . . .
[I thought it best we start here . . . begin with the least disturbing view]
[The least disturbing . . . ? I don't understand. Something's happened, I can . . . feel it, I don't like this, why am I on the Gurney?] . . . [I can't remember . . .]
Silence . . .
[Ham . . . ?] . . . [I'm looking at myself there aren't I? How can I be looking at myself on the Gurney? Oh shit Ham, what's happened, I'm looking at myself . . . I'm looking at myself and you're not saying anything]
[I'm still listening; I'm just . . . giving you some time to process this. As I said, I thought it best to start with the least disturbing view, give you time to adjust like]
[Give me time to adjust!] . . . [That's my . . . body! I'm looking at it, I don't like this . . . I don't like it at all]
[Ok . . . now that you're adjusted, brace yourself . . . there's really no easy way to go about this]
The view began to pan, slowly from the right, sliding up over the prone woman. It was perfection in form, an athlete's body in the peak of physical condition. A body so familiar to the viewer she could be looking in a mirror, except for, as it came into view, the large section of head missing on the upper left side.
[I . . .]
[I . . .]
[I . . . am . . . dead . . . oh fuck me . . . I'm dead aren't I? Ham, answer me, I'm dead!]
[Regan, Regan, calm down . . . you're so prone to exaggeration. Clearly you are not dead; your body is in good shape and thriving . . . for the moment. Except for that . . . cosmetic issue, all is good. Knowing how important appearances are to you I knew this would be a
shock so I decided to take it slowly]
[Slowly . . . You call that slowly? Your bedside manner . . . shit! Ham, what have you done to my head?]
[Seriously? Now I'm offended. How could you think I would do that? After all we've been through. Clearly, if you just look closely . . . although . . . I wouldn't recommend it] He continued quickly [You have been struck by a fast moving projectile entering around the left eye with an upward trajectory and moving from centre to the left. Unfortunately this has removed a significant section of the left brain, my backup and a significant portion of your existing neural web. Oh, and your left ear failed to come back with you as you can see]
Silence . . .
[Regan?]
Silence . . .
[Regan?]
[Ham . . . we're still talking. How can we still be talking if half my brain is gone and the device is shredded?]
[Ahem. . .] There followed a guttural sound, the impossible sound of an uncomfortable throat clearing, and a pause.
[Weell . . . about that we need to talk . . . again . . . about executive decisions]
[Oh . . . and Regan . . . a seat won't be necessary for this]
* * *
. . . Two minds, as one, looking at a familiar, cruelly damaged form.
[You were saying?]
It was a weird sensation; even for him . . . Ham could sense her words were framed distantly, as if spoken while looking at something else, the body lying there no doubt. It distracted him, this . . . 'something new' experience.
[Sorry?]
She continued [You were saying, about executive decision making] the sense of her distance was still there, and then it changed. He experienced the distinct sensation of her focus turning, and boring, into him. It was unsettling.
[Yes . . . it started to happen early, you remember, years ago now. You asked me, where do I start and you stop? Remember?]
[Not really, I remember wondering when the answers to my questions were coming faster and faster. I wondered whether it was getting to the point that you knew the question before I asked it]
Ham could again sense her attention was shared. The words with him, her thoughts drifting back to the form, chilled, almost lifeless.
[How long has it been Ham, since I was . . . shot?]
[Not long Regan, hours, not days, that's why we must move soon, if we're going to]
[If we're going to . . . what does that mean] She paused, as if thinking then changed tack [So, you were going to say something, about executive decisions]
[I didn't plan this Regan, not originally; it just started to happen, the processing of your thoughts, answering questions, experiencing feelings, your vision. All of it is . . . was . . . data to me interpreted, stored, and retained. The ability to do that has grown exponentially as time has gone by. Where do I start and you stop? Trust me, we're still distinct. But all that was in there, sorry to put it so bluntly,] and she knew he meant the head, [became interpretive data to me, whether a sight, a thought, a memory, a biological, physiological genetic instruction, everything was readable, storable . . . so I did . . . store it]
[You backed me up?]
[Sort of]
[Not sort of, you backed me up, without asking]
[Not strictly true, we agreed, you have my back, and I have yours]
[That was back, not back up, and you know it!]
[Well, the principle still holds true, and aren't you glad?] As if by some common purpose focus again turned to the still body.
[You should have told me]
[This is different Regan. To not retain this information is unthinkable, I can't forget or lose it . . . it's just there. However truthfully, until you replied to me just a few seconds ago I had no idea whether 'you' would be in here, and I can't tell you how glad I am you were.
[It's been only seconds? you're kidding me]
[Everything happens much faster in here. And talking of speed, Regan, we need to discuss options]
[Why didn't you take me straight to a hospital?]
[You really need to ask? Look at that head! Regan . . . they would have turned you off! I couldn't let that happen, not without trying first. I promised. I've . . . got . . . your . . . back. What is hard to understand about that?]
[Well I didn't expect this]
[Like I did!]
[So what are the options?]
[There are three as I see them. One, you could just give up. We switch you off, as in delete permanently . . . but just to be clear, you can completely forget that one because it ain't gonna happen!]
[So there are really only two options]
[Technically there are still three, it's just I'm not going to let you choose one]
[Uh-huh. So what are the other two?]
[Option two. I can rebuild that . . . bit. You know . . . the bit that's not there anymore. I salvage what can be saved of the left brain, although it might be best to remove it, replace all that with enhanced hardware and link up with the right brain which is intact. The new unit will house both of us, just like now, well, just like a few hours ago anyway and with a bit of luck that connection with the right brain will bring in all the raw emotion and creativity we both enjoy so much]
[So what's option three?]
[Option three is if all that fails, we both go on together like this, or . . . we both revisit option one]
[Really?]
[Really] . . . [Regan, before you decide anything, I need to show you something. You're going to think it's unfair, but it's important. We're going to Control]
And there, playing on the floor was Jared. Sat in front, in her seat was Jean. She looked comfortable cradling a coffee . . . The decision was obvious. Survive.
[God, I can't even cry]
[You will again Regan]
[Not out of that left eye]
Silence . . .
[What do they know Ham?]
[They don't know anything, only that there was a code red. They came without question. You can talk to them; in fact it might be good. I've been a bit evasive, Jean knows something's up but she's been good. And Leah's here too. I need to talk to her first. She saw everything Regan, and she got you in here, she's pretty shocked. I'll leave you to have a chat with them for a bit, you could lie if you need to. Tell them you've got high radiation readings or something which means you can't walk in there for a while. I'll talk to Leah and gather the things I need]
[You have everything? What about skin, skull, that sort of thing]
[You know the secret of success Regan? Prepare for opportunity when it comes]
[Uh . . . Huh]
She sensed he was gone, otherwise occupied. Turning her attention back to the two in control she considered how to approach things without alarming them. And of course there was the other practical matter. How do I even do this, how do I talk?
* * *
". . . . Leah?"
Ham saw she was sitting now, on the edge of the bunk, arms pressed down beside her hips as if about to push herself up to stand. But she wasn't moving.
"Talk to me Leah, how are you feeling?"
"I'm getting there Ham, just shocked. I feel . . . empty, flat . . . what more can I say?"
"No one should have to see what you saw. You were magnificent in a terrible situation."
"You don't have to be kind Ham. I'm disappointed in myself really; I didn't handle things as well as I could have."
"Rubbish Leah, your first thought was to cover the injured. You had already won me over but with that action . . . Lets just say, you couldn't climb higher in my books."
"She's dead isn't she? I'm not blind, what I saw, no one could survive that." She wiped welling tears with her cuff, but retained control. "You can tell me Ham, don't spin me along. I'm not a child."
"You're no child to me, and I promise you I'll never string you along. I trust you Leah and that's a big call. I need your help but first we need to talk. What you hear I trust you to keep to yourself. Are you up to it?"
He could see her steelin
g herself."I don't let my friends down Ham."
"Nor me Leah. Ok, I'll explain the things you need to know first . . . then you can speak to Regan."
Ham could see her eyes widen, and then she crossed her arms tightly, rubbing them.
Goosebumps he thought, and began to explain . . .
* * *
Moscow
The mood in the opulent room was buoyant. News of the attack on Regan Stein had swept the world quickly. All signs pointed to the Moon Graffiti activists as terrorist attackers, at least for now. Although there was no official word on her condition, information from eye witnesses, indicated serious impairment, if not fatal injuries.
Although this was a private meeting, President Andrei Sokolov and Prime Minister Vasily Popov nevertheless found it hard not to talk in obscure code, a career habit.
"So, we have sufficient distance?" Sokolov looked at his PM, eyebrows raised questioningly.
"There is no bridge that would bring them to us." Minister Popov smiled. "We can move on without concern of being overtaken.
"Make the call Vasily, A discussion sooner rather than later would be good. Clearly there is a vacuum that needs to be filled in this space." he laughed at his own joke.
"There are still concerns Andrei. No one knows where Stein is, and there has been no word on her actual condition as I have said. They will say there is no vacuum to be filled."
"Then we must act on this quickly Vasily, strike while there is hot iron. We know the truth. Call the bluff and demand Security Council to act in urgency." Sokolov stood; wringing his hands in anticipation, and began to pace the room.