"You're very brave. Then you're okay if I start crushing people's larynxes, starting with your cute little redhead scientist?"
The young scientist's hand was rising again, balling into a fist. And once again, the older woman grabbed her wrist, restraining her.
"I see you're finally dropping your pretense of being a nice guy," she said.
"I never pretended to be anything. I told you I had no interest in hurting anyone if you kept yourselves and the cops the hell out of my way." Alex nodded to her hand on the younger woman's wrist. "Can I ask what you're stopping Tatiya from doing?"
"I believe she wants to punch you out."
Alex compressed Tatiya's throat – a light touch, she guessed maybe no more than a few pounds, to err on the side of safety. The girl made a choking sound and clutched her throat, drawing a fearful look from her superior.
"Make the call, Secretary Learner."
The DARE leader pinched her lips and nodded to one of the guards, who unhooked a mobile phone from his belt and handed it to her. Alex released the pressure on Tatiya's throat. The young scientist gasped down a couple of breaths, the terror in her eyes turning to hate as she met Alex's gaze.
Secretary Learner held the mobile phone, still hesitating.
"I have no desire to kill anyone," said Alex. "Including you. You'll be okay unless you're determined to make me hurt you."
Learner lifted the phone and spoke into it. "Rudy?"
"Yes, Madame Secretary?" a male voice crackled through the receiver.
"I'm leaving now. Prepare for immediate departure."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And Rudy. I'll have some unscheduled company."
A moment passed.
"Understood," said the pilot.
Learner set the phone on the table and faced Alex.
"We can leave," she said. "The helicopter is waiting on top of this building."
"Was that 'unscheduled company' code for a warning?"
"No. I just don't want you to surprise him."
"How far is the top of the building?"
"Down the hall to an elevator, twenty floors up, and a brief walk out to the heliport."
Plenty of time for some itchy-fingered agent to take a shot. This was as far as Alex had taken her little plan. Now she faced the cliché of how to travel safely with her hostage surrounded by trigger-happy people and possibly a sniper or two up on the building. She had a sudden idea.
"Have you ever ridden piggy-back, Secretary Learner?"
"I..." She shook her head. "As a child."
"Time to relive your childhood."
They emerged from the interrogation room seconds later, Learner clamped on Alex's back calling out urgent orders to "stand down" as they passed a line of fidgety black-uniformed agents at a brisk jog before reaching the elevator. Inside, Alex tapped the "roof" button. Learner unclasped her arms from around her neck.
"Stay right where you are, Secretary," said Alex. "Loosen your arms around my neck and I'll assume you're trying to escape."
"This is ridiculous."
"You should be grateful. How many chances does a woman your age get to ride a handsome young man?"
"I'm gay."
Alex released a low laugh. Virtual life sure could be strange at times.
The elevator pinged to a stop 22 floors later. The doors opened to a large black helicopter perched fifty yards away on a black square of cement or steel, rotors slowly whumping, against a backdrop of sky and fir-studded mountains. Alex guessed they were somewhere in the Black Hills.
She jogged out as fast as she dared, glancing back over her shoulder. A pair of utility buildings towered another two stories, and she spotted two snipers positioned on their edges, as expected. Learner's grip loosened – perhaps she was thinking of throwing herself off to give the snipers a clear shot – but Alex caught her wrists in an iron grip. She wasn't going anywhere. A side-door was open in the helicopter and someone appeared to be crouched within the shadows, but Alex didn't see a rifle. She was confident no one – certainly not the people on the utility buildings behind her – had a shot that wouldn't also possibly kill Learner. They might shoot out her legs, but they had to know she'd have plenty of time for reprisals. And they could only guess the extent of her telekinetic powers.
Alex hopped into the helicopter. The pilot was waiting, extending his hand for Learner.
"I'll let her down when you shut the door," said Alex.
The pilot stepped past and closed the door. Alex lowered Learner to the floor. The instant her feet hit the floor she scrambled backward. A movement in the shadows to Alex's left preceded two muzzle flashes. The movement had Alex already mentally sweeping aside what was there, which included the man and apparently the two bullets, because she felt no impacts. Secretary Learner, however, dropped to one knee, crying out, clutching her calf. The pilot or agent who'd attempted the ambush lay in a twisted heap. Alex had not been gentle with her TK sweep.
The other pilot drew his pistol. It crumpled in his hand – along with part of the hand, judging from his pained grimace as his gun dropped to the floor. They regarded each other. In the cockpit, a radio was beeping.
"Are we done here?" Alex said, raising her voice over the whump-whump of the rotor. She glanced out the nearest window. A cluster of DARE agents, weapons poised, were inbound. "Get us in the air. Now."
"We should leave her here!" the pilot shouted. "She needs medical attention."
Alex noted a bloody hole in the Secretary's mid-calf. The blood didn't appear to be spreading.
"Flesh wound," Alex yelled back. "Take off now or I will make it much worse."
The pilot scrambled into his seat. Alex grabbed Learner by her collar and dragged her with them into the cockpit. The helicopter lurched upward. Alex glimpsed the men atop the utility structures shifting their rifles, perhaps trying to place crosshairs on her avatar's pretty head, but then the helicopter banked north and the building complex swiftly retreated from view.
"Where to?" the pilot asked.
"Uh..." Think fast. "Southeast."
"I'm being hailed."
"Tell everyone to stay clear of this aircraft if they want you two to stay alive. No fighter jets or attack helicopters pursuing or attempting to intercept us."
"Understood. I'm not sure how they'll respond, but I'll tell them."
As the pilot spoke in a low voice, Alex couldn't make out much more than every other word, but the pilot seemed to say the right words. She took a moment to breathe in her momentary success. But her brilliant escape wouldn't matter if she didn't get away clean. They'd be tracking the helicopter soon if they weren't already. Primary problem: how to separate herself from the helicopter in a way that wouldn't bring the National Guard down on her location.
"Hey, pilot," said Alex. "Rudy, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Pilot Rudy. What's the thing that broadcasts where your plane is?"
"The transponder."
"Right. Turn that off."
"They can still track us with radar."
"But if I remember from 9/11, it confuses traffic control or whatever about a plane's identity."
"9/11?"
Both the pilot and Secretary Learner stared at her as if she were speaking in tongues. Understandable, since no commercial airliners were hijacked and no buildings fell on that fateful day in the Verse.
"Never mind," said Alex. "Just do it."
The pilot tapped a button and a display above it thoughtfully read TRANSPONDER OFF.
An idea was forming. If she could get Rudy to place the helicopter on autopilot – if it had autopilot – she could eliminate Learner and the pilot and jump out. She should be able to soften the fall enough telekinetically to avoid injury. Sad to say, Verse rules forbade awardees from using telekinetics on themselves. But with her enhanced strength, she wouldn't need the softest of landings. Anyone tracking the helicopter would have no idea when she bailed out.
Eliminate them. Alex sighed. She was star
ting to feel she was playing the bad guy in a B movie thriller. She shook her head. She had to stop this anthropomorphizing bullshit. They were programs. This was a game.
Getting the pilot to agree to place the aircraft on autopilot if it had autopilot would be...tricky. They weren't stupid. The ominous implications weren't that subtle. She had to find a way to sell it to them...unless she wanted to be stuck with placing it on autopilot herself.
Not an unthinkable alternative.
"What's the make and model of this helicopter?" she asked the pilot.
"It's a Ravenwing 37D."
Alex accessed Versenet through Google. The Ravenwing 37D did indeed have autopilot: Lifeline Systems, Four Axis model. She watched a two-minute video about how it worked, comparing it to the cockpit video screen while the pilot and Secretary Learner traded what they thought were covert glances. The system seemed easy, completely intuitive. You set altitude, direction, and speed with knobs and button selectors. The system was also capable of liftoff and landing.
Alex checked the gauges before her. The tank appeared to be full or near full. The Ravenwing site listed the maximum cruising range at 1175 miles with its extra-capacity fuel tank.
Alex moved to the main door window. They were passing over prairie grasslands. No homes, no farm fields. She came to a quick decision.
"Set it down," she said to the pilot. "First place that will work."
The pilot and Learner's exchange of glances held palpable relief. The pilot reduced speed and nudged the cyclic stick forward. They settled down on a flattish crest atop a stunted hill.
"This is where you two get off," said Alex. "I'll need your cell phones and" – she shot the pilot a pointed glance –"any other weapons you might have."
They handed her their cells. The pilot tapped his clothing and shrugged off the suggestion of any additional weapons.
"Now I'll need your shoes."
"Are you fucking serious?" the pilot snarled.
Alex smiled at him. "Or I can take your feet, if you'd prefer."
Secretary Learner gave him a grim nod and they both shed their shoes.
"You can fly a helicopter?" the pilot asked, his hard stare seasoned with skepticism.
"I guess we'll find out. The YouTube videos seem pretty helpful." Alex motioned to the door. "Have a nice day."
"It's eighty degrees out there and probably miles to the nearest house. We could use some water."
"Help yourself to any water bottles you have in here."
"There's an emergency supply kit."
The pilot broke open an aluminum case secured to one wall, tugging out liter-sized plastic bottles, energy bars, dried food, medical supplies – and a flare gun.
"Anything but the flare gun," said Alex. "Let's go. I've got a flight to catch."
They each grabbed an armful of the stuff, including water bottles. Alex slid open the main door. The pilot jumped down, rotor wash scattering some of the dried-food packets in his arms. He held out a hand for his superior, which Learner accepted. She paused in stepping down, turning to Alex.
"You could just as easily have killed us," she said. "Thank you for not doing that."
"Thank you for not making me do that."
Watching them limp off through the grass, Alex knew that was true – she did feel grateful for not having to kill them. Of course, they were just mindless sims, but even stomping out their lives felt classless, debased, somehow. Violence, the last refuge of the incompetent, as Asimov had said.
Alex slid into the leftmost cockpit seat. She activated the Lifelines system and set altitude (15000), speed (170), and direction (southeast). The helicopter whumped away happily, but made no motion to rise. She located a switch beneath the words INITIATE. Sounded about right. She flipped the switch. The rotors immediately picked up speed. The helicopter lurched off the ground and began a gently angled ascent.
Damn. Could it really be that easy?
The helicopter climbed, and with it Alex's sense of triumph soared. She was reminded, in spite of all the bloody drama, the game was supposed to be fun. It was fun. The illusion of life and death and gritty survival was that: an illusion. She was hundreds of thousands of dollars ahead – as well as ahead of all her competitors – and nothing that happened here could harm her. The only threat was losing her Verse privileges, but in this game, regardless of how many crimes they prosecuted her for, regardless of whether she lived or died here, the reset at the end of this game would cleanse all her sins. Hallefuckinglujah.
Now if she and no one else completed the Quest in their special allotted time, the next phase of the contest would not offer such absolution. But if it came to that, she'd learned some valuable lessons. Foremost, go easy and avoid pissing off the police. One little crime could ruin your whole game.
Next decision: when to bail. Just a question of time before other military helicopters or aircraft showed up. A panel linked to the pilot's headset blinked furiously. Authority people wanted to talk. She picked up the headset and slipped it on, adjusting the tension and angles as a voice chattered at her.
"Raven One, this is Union Jack. What is your situation? Do you read?"
"Union Jack," said Alex, "this is Jack-off One. Situation normal, all fucked up. Over."
"Please say again?"
Alex smiled at the strained disbelief in the man's voice. Some trucker dialogue from an awful movie flashed in her head. "I'm northbound, hammer down, good buddy. 10-4."
For twenty or thirty seconds the only sounds were the rush of air and the steady whump-whump of the rotors. Then:
"Mr. Milner." Confusion had turned to hard resolve in the man's voice. "This is Agent Quinn with DARE. I would like to speak with Secretary Learner."
"I don't think so."
"Have you harmed her – or the pilots? We heard gunshots within the helicopter."
"One of the pilots is dead – tried to shoot me when I got inside. Rudy and Secretary Learner are fine."
A few moments passed.
"Please transfer your com set to the surviving pilot or Secretary Learner so we can confirm that."
"Sorry, no."
"Then we're going to assume they're dead as well."
"You know what they say about assumptions. Look, Agent Quinn, we're going to fly a few hundred more miles and set down somewhere near" – she visualized the U.S. traveling in their direction – "Chicago. Feel free to try to arrest me when we land. As long as you don't try to shoot us down or anything in the meantime, the pilot and Secretary Learner will be fine. I won't be taking them as hostages after I land. Doesn't that sound fair?"
"What reason do we have to believe..."
Someone was speaking away from the mike – then the transmission ended. Alex couldn't make out the words, but they sounded urgent, like important news. She leaned to the nearest window, eyeing the terrain passing below. Maybe it was time to drop down and desert her ride. She could set the helicopter autopilot controls to resume flight, hit initiate, and jump out before it got much off the ground. The longer she was up in the air, the better the odds of becoming a target.
She had the general idea of manually landing from watching the pilot, but why not descend via autopilot, place it in hover mode a few yards aboveground, and nurse it down from there? The video she'd watched seemed to imply all that was possible.
Alex was studying the controls and readying her commands when Agent Quinn's voice returned.
"Mr. Milner," he said. "I've just learned that Secretary Learner and one of her pilots have been safely recovered. We appreciate your gesture in removing them from harm's way."
Alex anticipated a highly disagreeable but.
"If you check your radar console you should be able to pick out two blips directly behind you," said Agent Quinn. "Those are Gh-44 attack helicopters, armed with heat-seeking missiles and 30 mm cannon. They will be within firing range in a matter of seconds."
A scenario played out in fast-motion in her head. They might not shoot her down right aw
ay. But getting too close would place them within range of her telekinetics. They'd have no choice but to shoot her from a distance. That might work out rather nicely.
"Fuck you," Alex growled into the headpiece mike. "I'm not landing. I don't believe you'll shoot me down."
"You're mistaken. We consider you far too dangerous to be allowed anywhere near a major city."
"Whatever. I'm not going to stop until I get to Chicago, no matter what you threaten."
"Unless you land now, you won't make it another five miles."
Alex envisioned them blowing her helicopter out of the air and assuming she was dead – when she was in fact alive and well on the ground and now able to continue the game unmolested. How to boost that possibility? Playing a hothead hell-bent on self-immolation seemed the ticket.
"Screw you, motherfucker! I'm not landing until I get where I need to go. And if you come too close, I will blow those helicopters out of the air! I'm done talking, assholes!"
Alex tugged off the headpiece. That should do it. Maybe they would shoot her down, maybe they wouldn't. Either way worked. All she had to do now was survive a 15,000-foot fall and escape their detection. Her virtual life was in the hands of the programmers and their code.
She moved to the main door. Don't think, jump! She yanked the door open. Hurricane-force winds blew her backward. Go, you pussy! Alex charged forward and sprang into the vacuous blue – a fearful flash of thought that the rotors might suck her up dismissed by they're pushing down, moron! – welcomed into the cruel embrace of gravity.
A startling serenity settled – or blew – over her. The cool air was a cradle, not a harbinger of doom. It took an act of will to stop relaxing and start focusing on the grassy fields below. The ground was rising leisurely now, but she knew the pace would soon pick up. She raked the fields with her mind, imagining all the grass and surface dirt in a wide circle gathering beneath her. Meanwhile, she spread her arms and legs wide to maximize her drag.
She tried to get her legs under in the last seconds, but the timing was tricky and she only half-succeeded, landing more on her knees than feet. The good news was that she plunged into several feet of soft grass. Better news: she was completely out of sight when the pursuing helicopters raced by overhead. Best news: she stuck her head out one side of the grass in time to see twin streaks of smoke extend through the sky, converging moments later on the black bug flying ahead of them. Alex blinked as the "black bug" vanished in a golden-orange thunder ball two or three miles away.
The Goddess Quest Page 22
