by M. R. Forbes
Lyle moaned in pain, the convulsions easing, but his movements weak.
"Lyle," Mitchell said. "Talk to me."
The Detective didn't respond.
"Lyle."
Lyle's eyes shifted up to Mitchell. He moaned one more time. Then he was still.
"Damn it," Mitchell yelled, slamming his fist on the ground. "Damn it. You said it was safe."
"Colonel," Michael stammered. "I don't know what happened."
Mitchell got to his feet. His whole body was shaking.
"We have the data," Teegin said. "He did not die for nothing."
Mitchell looked at the Core. "But did he die for enough?"
He looked around the room. The others were shocked and silent. Michael had tears in his eyes. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't any if their faults. Watson had gotten the best of them again.
That wasn't even the worst part of it. The Tetron had seemed different. More calm. More in command of himself. There was no hint of anger. There was no childish manner.
Something about the intelligence had changed, and he didn't like it.
"Get your shit together," he said to the others. "It's time to go."
46
The Schism was airborne five minutes later, loaded with the Riggers and their equipment. The farmhouse was burning beneath them, any evidence of what they had been doing there going up in flames.
Detective Carson Lyle was part of those flames, a fact that chafed Mitchell as much, if not more, than any of the other deaths he had witnessed at Watson's hands. This one was so much more personal, in part because it had been delivered by a seemingly unbroken machine. Whatever damage they had done to the Tetron, he had found a way to repair it, or at the very least hide it. Regardless, Mitchell was certain the intelligence had changed, and when it came to something that old changing, it didn't bode well for anybody.
"What's the ETA to St. Louis?" Mitchell asked, standing behind Captain Verma. Katherine had taken the co-pilot's seat, and she worked her side of the controls to find the answer.
"Three hours, fourteen minutes," she said.
It was a long time, but they might need it. Mitchell retreated from the cockpit, heading to the rear. The Riggers were arranged in two groups on either side. Kathy was sitting with her configurations, McRory, Johanson, and Kerr, while Michael and Teegin were facing one another, the tablet resting between them. The wire that had been connected to the implant was now vanishing into the Core's tightly wound threads.
Mitchell went over to Kathy first, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. He still couldn't believe the men and woman sitting with her were copies of her consciousness. It seemed impossible to be able to take a human mind and nearly duplicate it, while at the same time allowing for its own sense of self. It was as if she and Teegin had played God, except with one vital difference. They hadn't made the flesh and muscle and bone that powered these offshoots; they had collected it from the recently dead. The souls were already there in some respect. She had simply modified them. Repurposed them. It was a macabre idea, but he had felt the same way when Origin had first revealed herself to him as a gender-altered copy of Singh.
"I'm sorry to do this to you," Kathy said to them. "It's important to me that you understand I would never have done it if I had any other choice."
"We do understand," McRory said. "To be honest, I'm glad to have the truth. I always knew I was different somehow, but I could never explain it. I've never been sick a day in my life. I've taken hits that should have busted bones. I can drink and smoke until my head is spinning and I barely notice."
"It certainly made it helpful for tasting the product," Johanson said, laughing.
"I'm going to miss the business," Kerr said. He had his arm around his wife. Mitchell was glad to see that knowing who they were hadn't changed that.
"Me, too," Johanson agreed.
"Do you need something, Colonel?" Kathy said, looking up at him.
Mitchell shook his head. "No. I was just taking advantage of the time we have."
"Colonel," Michael said from the other side of the aisle.
Mitchell turned toward him and Teegin. Kathy did the same.
"What is it?" Mitchell asked.
"We have parsed the location data we retrieved from the trace," Teegin said. "We have a location."
"That's great news." Mitchell smiled. Michael didn't smile back. "Isn't it?"
"There's a problem, Colonel," Teegin said. "We aren't certain the data is correct."
"What do you mean?"
"There was always a good chance Watson overheard us while Damon was on board," Michael said. "He may have planted fake data to throw us off. In fact, I believe he did."
"Why do you say that?"
"The location. It isn't on our list of potential targets."
"Where is it?" Mitchell asked.
"It isn't even on a list of the top fifty areas we have identified with power draw potential that would suggest a Tetron is hiding there," Teegin added.
"Where is it?" Mitchell asked again.
"It doesn't belong to Nova Taurus, either," Michael said. "At least not as near as we can tell."
"Where the hell is it?" Mitchell said a third time.
Michael reached down and tapped on the tablet. A small red mark appeared in the center of the screen. The rest of it was a solid, dark blue.
"An ocean?" Mitchell asked.
"The Atlantic Ocean," Teegin said. "Five hundred kilometers southeast of Greenland."
"Is there anything out there?"
"We are still trying to make that determination, Colonel. It may be a facility that was purposely deleted from Nova Taurus' records, both public and private."
"Or it may be a wild goose chase," Michael said.
"How do we verify?"
"We may have no choice but to circle the location," Teegin replied.
"And lose how much more time? He's killing people out there."
"I understand, Colonel. I am querying my data stacks for any information that may prove beneficial."
"Fine. What about an alternate? Is there anything you captured from the implant that may be a clue to another location? I wouldn't mind having a choice. If we make a pass over this one, and it's a no-go, we're shit out of luck."
"We'll keep working on it, Colonel," Michael said. "We just thought you should know."
Mitchell nodded, turning back to Kathy. "Is there anything you can do to help them with this?"
"I'm sorry, Colonel."
"Me, too." Mitchell took a deep breath, easing it out. Slow. Steady. One thing at a time. "We've got three hours and four minutes to see what we can figure out on that end. We also need to draw up some kind of plan on how to get control of the Goliath. We have to assume Watson has a sizeable investment there, whether it's made itself known yet or not. Teegin, I assume you have a full record of the base layout, historical personnel files, that sort of thing?"
"Yes, Colonel," Teegin said.
"Good. Can you push what you have to that tablet? I assume that wire is connected to you for a reason."
"Yes, Colonel. Initiating."
The screen changed on the tablet almost immediately as the data transfer began.
"Good. Kathy, go ask your mother to come back here. We've only got one shot at this, and we have to do it right."
"Yes, sir."
Kathy hurried to the front of the Schism, returning with Katherine a moment later.
"Everybody gather close," Mitchell said, crouching in the middle of the aisle.
The configurations shifted their positions to move in, as did the others.
"I know things don't look good right now. We've taken a few hits, and we haven't done much of anything to hit back. It doesn't matter how many punches you get in; the last one is the only one that counts. Watson may think he has the upper hand, but the one thing he doesn't have is any of you. This war isn't fought by logic and algorithms, it's fought by people, and I'm confident that I'm surrounded by the best th
ere are. And you, Teegin."
The Core chuckled at the comment, surprising Mitchell. It seemed as if its evolution was accelerating.
"Now, let's figure out how we make it to tomorrow."
47
"One minute, Colonel," Captain Verma announced.
"Roger," Mitchell replied.
He felt a momentary wave of sadness. He was almost out of time.
He glanced over at Teegin. The Primitive was already positioned near the drop hatch, a pair of assault rifles slung over its shoulders, along with a duffel containing what they could only hope would be enough ammunition. It spread its arms, revealing a web of delicate strands of metal, woven together into wings that matched the suit he was wearing. It noticed him looking and nodded.
He turned away from the Core, to where Kathy was standing. He had to force himself to stay calm. There was a very good chance he would never see her again, especially if things went well.
"How long will you live, anyway?" he asked.
She smiled. "Longer than a human. Not as long as a Tetron. Long enough to see this through."
"I'm confident in that. I'm going to miss you. We barely got to know one another."
"I know you, Mitchell Williams." She stepped forward, and he took her into an embrace, holding her close for a few heartbeats. "I love you."
"I love you, too, Kathy." He stepped away. "When I get back, will you be on Liberty? The younger you?"
"It isn't likely. That was a different recursion, before things changed so much. I don't know what's going to happen in this future. Nobody can. All I can tell you is that I'll do everything I can to keep Watson from gaining too strong of a foothold before then. Capturing his core will go a long way toward that."
"I'll do my best, too. Good hunting, Kathy."
"Good hunting, Father."
He hugged her one more time, holding back the tears that wanted to come. He looked over at Michael, who was watching the exchange.
"Take care of her," he said.
Michael drew back in confusion and then turned bright red. Kathy glanced over at him but didn't say anything.
"He's a good man," Mitchell said softly. "He's even starting to believe it for himself."
"Yes."
"Colonel," Katherine said, approaching him. She hesitated. "Mitch."
"I'll see you again," he said. "Aboard the Goliath."
"Yes, sir. I just. I don't know if it's possible to make yourself love someone. But I do admire you. Your strength, your courage, your conviction. Even your regrets. I just wanted you to know that if I could make myself love you, I would."
He found her eyes with his. He wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her goodbye. He wanted to profess all of the emotions that were circling in his gut. Instead, he reached out and took her hand, squeezed it once, and nodded. "I know you would."
Then he turned away, moving to the drop hatch. The warning light began to flash, and a few seconds later the hydraulics began to drop the back of the ship. Cool air started rushing in, blowing past them.
"I believe in you," he said. "In all of you. I'll hold up my end. You hold up yours."
"Yes, sir," they all shouted back.
He looked to Teegin. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, Colonel."
He reached out, grabbing the helmet from the rack beside him. He dropped it on his head and then activated his p-rat. Next, he picked up the third rifle from the same rack, and attached it to the drop suit.
He looked back at his crew.
"Riiiggg-ahhh," he said sharply.
"Riiiggg-ahhh," they replied.
Then he jumped.
He let himself fall, his p-rat tracking the distance to the ground, and also keeping tabs on Teegin beside him. The Primitive was in the same controlled dive that he was, its form perfect despite having never dropped like this before.
"Teegin, can you hear me?" Mitchell asked, checking their shared communications.
"Yes, Colonel."
"Flatten out on my mark."
The ground was invisible below him, the clouds between thick and dark. It wasn't ideal weather to jump through, but they didn't have time to spare to set down. He kept his eye on the p-rat's overlay, watching the altitude change as they fell.
They hit the clouds at four thousand meters and were still falling through them when Mitchell gave the order to flatten their descent, spreading his arms to give the wingsuit more surface area and slowing the fall. The clouds were heavy with moisture, and it streamed from him like a contrail as he whipped through the sky.
Teegin was right behind him, so close that if he were human Mitchell might have worried about a collision. Instead, he felt somewhat comforted by the presence of the Core. He had left Kathy behind in the Schism, but a part of her was still with him. A part of Origin as well. He was glad not to have to do this alone.
"Are you scanning?" Mitchell asked.
It was a secondary benefit to the airborne jump, allowing the Core to spread his sensors across a wider swath of land.
"Affirmative, Colonel. We should widen the radius."
"Roger." Mitchell shifted his arms, sending him in an arc that would create a wider circle around the area.
If the clouds hadn't been there, he would have seen the park below as a preserved wilderness area, a mixture of woods and fields and rocky hills, with a road splitting it on either side. It was an area he had seen once before, twenty years earlier, and had forgotten about for as long. Just thinking about it motivated him.
He checked the altitude. Two thousand meters. They would only have another minute or two to scan before they would reach the ground.
"Anything?" he asked.
"Negative, Colonel. I am running a sensor sweep for the radioactive isotopes emitted by the amoebics but have not detected them so far. It may be that the electrical charge in the clouds is affecting the readings."
"Screwed by the weather? Damn." Mitchell checked his p-rat. The ceiling was at seven-hundred fifty meters. "How far can your scan reach once we clear this mess?"
"A four-kilometer radius, Colonel."
Not quite large enough. Mitchell shifted his arms again, working to gain a little more lift while he tried to remember which direction had Origin come from to save him, all of those years ago. He ran through the sequence of events in his mind, hoping something would jump out at him. A clue that would give him a sense of direction.
"I am detecting something else, Colonel. A heat signature matching a reactor."
"Where?"
"Almost directly below us."
"Watson?"
"It is unknown."
They reached the bottom edge of the clouds. He knew the altitude, but the ground still seemed closer than he expected. There was something else not completely unexpected there, too.
A vehicle that didn't belong in this part of the timeline, but also one he recognized. A rectangular, slightly angled box of a ship, with two small thrusters and a large repulsor array hanging from nacelles on either side.
A Lifter. An atmospheric transport common across the settled universe. A large Nova Taurus logo covered the flat top of it, with smaller decals on the sides. A crew of workers was on the ground one hundred meters below it; engineers mingled with soldiers.
He was only watching them for a few seconds when a speck of dust moved across the corner of his eye, joined by a second. His p-rat squawked a warning as it identified the drones. It yelled again as they started accelerating toward him.
"Teegin, we've got company," he said.
48
"Affirmative, Colonel. Tracking."
"Head for the ground and find some cover. How much do you want to bet Watson decided he wanted the S-17 after all?"
"I have confirmed the presence of the starfighter," Teegin said. "The signal is weak, obscured by the clouds and the ship. It is logical to infer that destroying Watson's amoebic production capabilities altered his plans and sent him hunting for the starfighter as well."
Mitchel
l didn't need the Core to tell him that. He tucked his arms and took a steeper angle, heading for the trees near the Lifter. He gained velocity as he dove, but the drones were closing fast.
His p-rat complained as the drones started shooting, firing lasers at him from above and behind. The interface painted them for him, showing them as red beams, the first one flashing past him to the left and sweeping toward him.
If it struck him he was as good as dead, and the screeching from his p-rat wasn't offering much hope.
He tucked his head, trying to gain a little more downward momentum. It would only take a minute amount to avoid the laser, or at least get it to hit his leg instead of his back. The drone adjusted almost as quickly as he shifted, the beam edging closer to his flesh.
Damn it.
Then Teegin was behind him, wrapping its arms around him, and absorbing the attack in his place.
"That is unpleasant," it said as the laser burned into the dense strands. "Hold on."
The Primitive threw them into a wild roll, getting them away from the lasers and costing Mitchell any sense of control. Then they were smacking into the trees, crashing into branches, each one cracking beneath the force of the impact but also slowing their descent. Teegin held him close, wrapped around him, protecting him from harm, its metal frame absorbing the blows without incident.
They fell to the ground a moment later, all forward velocity lost. The landing sent flares of pain up Mitchell's arms and caused his implant to begin releasing synthetics to keep him going.
"Are you hurt, Colonel?" Teegin said, rising immediately.
Mitchell groaned as he lifted himself. "I'll live."
The Primitive took a rifle in each arm, holding them easily. Mitchell retrieved his firearm as well.
"We need to get back to the Lifter before they can load the fighter. If they get away with it, we're done."
"Affirmative."
They ran back toward the small clearing. His p-rat showed him that Watson's soldiers were moving to intercept.
"You distract them," Mitchell said. "I'll sneak around and clear the area around the fighter."
