Infinity Rises (The Infinity Trilogy Book 2)

by Harrison, S.

  Captain Delgado leaves the soldiers at the desk and joins our group. He nods at Percy and then extends a greeting to the Professor, grasping the old man’s hand and shaking it firmly. “For a moment, I thought we lost you at the Security Station. I’m glad to see you made it out safely.” The Captain scans the front row, and I quickly duck down out of sight behind Otto’s back, only barely avoiding being spotted. “I see a few new faces,” says Captain Delgado.

  “Oh yes, these are some of the other students that I mentioned,” replies the Professor. “Everyone, this is Captain Delgado. He and his men rescued us when the power failed and the second dome collapsed.”

  “The dome collapsed?” Brody blurts.

  “‘Disintegrated’ is probably a better word,” says Percy.

  “We found these three wading through chest-deep black sand,” Captain Delgado says, waving a finger at the Professor, Percy, and Dean. “How is the young man doing?” he asks, frowning in Dean’s direction. “Any improvement?”

  “Sadly, no,” replies the Professor. “The neural device that linked him to that infernal robot seems to have done quite some damage to his mind. I don’t know how I’m going to explain any of this to their parents.”

  “Well, I can tell you right now that you won’t,” says the Captain. “I’m very sorry about what happened in Dome Two, Professor, but the waiver you all signed is ironclad. None of you can speak a word about anything that has happened here. Ever.”

  “B-but . . . ,” stammers the Professor. “I have to tell them something.”

  Captain Delgado puts his fists on his hips and clears his throat. “You can tell them that this was a tragic industrial accident. A computer malfunction caused an explosion that sadly resulted in the deaths of three students and a teacher, and rendered a boy catatonic from the trauma of witnessing said tragedy. That’s what you will say. That’s all any of you will be permitted to say.”

  “Four of my students were killed, not three!” barks the Professor. “And those children have very wealthy and powerful parents who . . .”

  “Who are not nearly as wealthy or as powerful as Blackstone Technologies,” Captain Delgado says, leaving the Professor gaping at him like a fish on dry land. “Look, Professor, I’ve lost eleven good soldiers today. It makes me wanna tear a new one in whoever’s responsible, but I know my place. And my lips are staying zipped.”

  The Professor doesn’t say a word, but he must be fuming, because Captain Delgado sighs and does his best to look consolatory. “Professor, I don’t know why on god’s green earth anyone would authorize a school field trip to a classified research facility, but it happened, and people died. None of this is your fault, but the truth is you’ll probably lose your job. On the bright side, the settlement you receive from Blackstone Technologies will make you a millionaire.”

  Making sure to avoid being seen, I cautiously peek out from behind Otto. The “my word is law” expression on the Captain’s face is all too familiar, and I know exactly how completely helpless the Professor must feel right now. I can’t count how many times I’ve stood in front of Captain Delgado and had to bear his smug authority, but you just can’t win when someone else is holding all the cards. And Professor Francis knows it.

  “Apparently, the truth is whatever you say it is, Captain.” I can’t see the Professor’s face from where I’m standing, but I can hear the bile coating every word.

  Captain Delgado gives the Professor a patronizing smile. “Now you’re getting it.”

  The Captain casually waves an open hand toward a far corner of the office. “We’ve set up a temporary infirmary. The medics can take a look at your injuries. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some rather important issues to deal with.” And with that, Captain Delgado turns and walks back toward the huddle of soldiers.

  I breathe a sigh of relief as Ryan lets out an altogether different exhalation. “What a complete assho—”

  “Mr. Forrester!” Professor Francis hisses, cutting Ryan short. “There is no need for that kind of language . . . but if there were, I might be inclined to agree with you wholeheartedly.”

  At the Professor’s coaxing, everyone begins moving toward the infirmary area in the corner. I make sure to stay on the opposite side of the group as we go, as far away from the eyes of Captain Delgado as possible, which, considering that he and I are in the same room, isn’t far enough for my liking. Otto, observant as ever, glances from me to Captain Delgado and back again as we all weave and bump past the sideways looks of the busy soldiers. Cubicle walls have been set up to provide a reasonably spacious separate region for the infirmary, and I do my best to nonchalantly glide behind the nearest one. Just inside the area, two office couches have been pushed together to form a waiting room of sorts. A soldier with a bandage wrapped around his forehead is dozing at the end of one couch, his helmet, combat mask, and visor resting on his lap. Further in, six desks have been pushed against the windows and far wall to act as makeshift beds. Five of the desks have soldiers lying on them with various shrapnel and blast injuries. The sixth desk is empty, and a rubber-gloved soldier is standing over it, wiping blood from its surface with a wet sponge. He looks over at us. “Need any help?” he asks.

  The Professor nods at the soldier. “Yes, thank you.” He guides Dean and motions at Brent to come forward, as well. A concerned-looking Margaux, a pathetically mewling Brent, a vacant Dean, and the Professor all make their way toward the medic’s desk as Otto, Brody, and Ryan take a seat on the empty couch. Unsurprisingly, Otto pulls her slate from her satchel. I perch on the arm of the couch beside her, giving me just enough height to peek over the top of the cubicle wall and keep a wary eye on Captain Delgado. Percy wanders past us and flumps down beside the bandaged soldier on the other couch, absentmindedly chewing on a fingernail. Otto pulls some gum from her shirt pocket. She peels a piece, pops it into her mouth, then offers the pack around. I shake my head, but Brody and Ryan both gratefully take a strip.

  “Worst field trip ever,” Ryan mumbles as he unwraps his gum.

  I look over at him, and we both smile ironically. “You’re a pretty good shot,” I say, trying to ease the tension.

  Ryan raises an eyebrow and nods. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

  Brody is sitting beside Otto, slowly chewing as he watches her fingers tap away on her ever-present slate. “Hey. I didn’t thank you for pulling me into that vent. And I’m sorry for biting you,” I whisper.

  Brody looks up at me and gives me a goofy grin before turning back to watch Otto. “What do you look like without your glasses?” he asks, staring gormlessly at the side of her face.

  Otto does a funny little frowning double take at Brody before ignoring him completely and tugging on my skirt. “Infinity, here, take this.” Otto detaches the top corners of the slate and hands one of the small, black, plastic triangles to me. I stare at the weird little thing in my palm and wonder what the hell I’m supposed to do with it.

  Otto takes her plastic triangle and nestles it into her ear, so I follow suit and do the same. The back of it is soft and molds in quite comfortably. Otto slides her fingers over the top of the slate and pops off a small, rectangular section from the back. She fishes her half-chewed gum from her mouth, wads it onto the black plastic rectangle, and then hands it to me. I frown at her and shrug my shoulders. She points at the cubicle wall three meters in front of us and makes a pressing motion. I get what she wants me to do, but I’m not sure why, so I’m still frowning as I walk over and stick the rectangle to the wall.

  While I’m there, I sneak a peek over the top. Across the office, I can see the side of Captain Delgado’s face; he’s leaning over the desk, muttering to the soldier standing beside him. The insignia on the soldier’s uniform tells me his rank is Corporal, and he’s a rather concerned-looking one. I scan the rest of the room, eyeballing weapons and pondering exit strategies, when a burst of static suddenly hiss
es through my ear. I wince and look back at Otto. She doesn’t look up. She just keeps swiping and tapping at the slate. The static begins to clear, giving way to layers of rhythmical thudding sounds surrounded by overlapping whispered conversations, rustling, scraping, tapping, humming, and clicking. It’s like every sound in the whole room is being channeled into my ear all at once. One by one, the sounds begin to vanish as Otto pecks at the surface of the slate. Soon only the whispers remain. One by one, those fade as well, until only one voice remains. Otto swipes her finger up, and the faint voice becomes loud and clear. It’s Captain Delgado.

  I give Otto an admiring look of surprise. She cocks her head, raises her eyebrows, and shrugs. I throw her a devious smile and peek back over the top of the wall. Captain Delgado’s lips are moving in perfect sync with the words piping through the little plastic wedge in my ear.

  “So what exactly are you saying?” he asks the Corporal beside him.

  “Well, we’ve finally managed to manually patch into the hard-line data feed in the conduit above the cortex level, and as far as we can tell . . . something is hindering crucial computer functions,” replies the soldier.

  “Something? I’m going to need a better explanation than that.”

  “Sir, I know my way around computers, but when it comes to artificial intelligence, I’m way out of my depth. The Blackstone main computer is a lot like a human brain. You’d need an information architect with a data scalpel for this job. For all the use I am, I might as well be a plumber with a pipe wrench.”

  “I need communications and main power up and running right now, soldier. So I don’t care if you shove a pipe wrench or a crowbar or a goddamned jackhammer in there. Do something useful before I shove my boot up in your out port.”

  The Corporal is visibly flustered. “We . . . ah . . . we’ve identified two streams of unusual neural data interlaced with the main computer feed. We may be able to disrupt them with a data spike, but we’re not completely sure what will happen if . . .”

  The Captain stands straight and glares at the soldier. “Stop flapping your lips, Corporal Avary, and get it done.”

  Captain Delgado steps away from the desk and stands at the windows overlooking the courtyard. I can tell that he’s pissed off by the particular way his shoulders rise and fall as he breathes.

  “You heard the Captain,” Corporal Avary says as he nudges the uniformed man sitting in a chair beside him. “Do it.”

  The man looks up at the Corporal, his profiled features showing clear concern. “Execute the action, Private. That’s an order.” I hear an audible gulp, the tap of a finger against the glass of a computer slate, and . . .

  Nothing happens.

  Corporal Avary looks confused. He leans in, scanning the multiple screens set out on the desk and muttering to his colleagues, when, all of a sudden, the previously dark ceiling lights throughout the dim office begin blinking on one by one. Computer slates lying blank on pushed-aside desks all around the room begin flicking on, too, all with little holographic Blackstone logos twirling above their surfaces. Captain Delgado glances around the now brightly lit office, then turns his attention toward the huddled group of men with a stern—yet pleased—expression. “You got the power back on. Well done.”

  “Oh, y-yes, sir, of c-course,” Corporal Avary stammers, nervously looking around the room at the slates booting up.

  Captain Delgado pulls a walkie-talkie from his belt and barks into it. “Radio check, this is your commanding officer. Squad leaders, respond if you’re receiving me, over.”

  “Alpha Three reading you loud and clear, Captain,” replies a voice. “Delta Six here Captain, signal is strong,” says another. “Omega Five squad reporting in,” says a third voice.

  The Captain nods his approval. “Looks like you got communications back as well, Corporal.”

  “Yes, sir, local radio comms are operational. But we still don’t have a usable cellular signal or access to the network.”

  “Keep at it,” the Captain replies as he raises the radio to his lips. “Alpha Three, report, over.”

  “Mechanoid is secured with containment foam, but we’ve still got some bodies to bag, sir.”

  “Carry on, Alpha. Delta Six, what’s the situation? Over.”

  “The sweep of the buildings surrounding the courtyard is complete, sir, awaiting further orders.”

  “Go and help Alpha team. How about you, Omega Five?”

  “We found the two missing female students hiding in an alcove in Sector B, sir. They’re pretty shaken up, but they’re OK, over.”

  “Nice one, Omega; bring ’em back to their friends at the command post.”

  “Sir, yes, sir. Omega out.”

  Captain Delgado hooks the walkie-talkie back on his belt. “Finally, I can give the Professor some good news,” he murmurs to himself. My eyes go wide as a smiling Captain Delgado leaves the desk and begins striding in this direction. He’s halfway across the room, sidestepping soldiers as he approaches. I quickly look around; there’s nowhere left for me to hide. I can hear his footsteps getting closer. He’s almost at the entrance to the makeshift infirmary. The ridiculous thought of grabbing Otto’s slate and holding it up in front of my face flits across my mind when I suddenly hear a voice crackle from a walkie-talkie barely a meter from the other side of the cubicle wall.

  “Captain Delgado! Come in, sir!”

  The Captain’s footsteps stop. “What is it, soldier?”

  “We’ve got movement, sir. A long section of pavement is elevating out of the ground, and . . .”

  “And what?” barks Captain Delgado.

  “Find cover!” yells the soldier’s voice.

  “Delta Six, report!” yells Captain Delgado.

  “Combat Drones, sir! Twenty, maybe thirty Combat Drones have risen out of the ground in a single line at the top of the courtyard.”

  I can hear Captain Delgado hurriedly stomping away. I peek over the top of the cubicle while Brody and Ryan, alerted by the soldier’s voice, spring up from the couch and walk over to join me.

  Captain Delgado rushes to the window. “I can’t see a damned thing from here!” he bellows. “Delta Six, what’s going on down there?”

  “The Drones’ faces are red; they’re in Threat Mode, but they’re not moving, sir. They’re just standing there. What are our orders, Captain?”

  “Stay where you are, Delta; if they move an inch, open fire. Come in, Omega Five.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “What’s your position? Over.”

  “Coming in from Sector B, approaching courtyard.”

  “Send someone to escort those schoolgirls to the command post; the rest of you join Delta squad.”

  The Captain turns back to the men crowded around the desk. “Whatever computer magic you did before, do it again! Get those cameras back online!”

  Around the desk, there’s fervent muttering, and I catch a few words though my earpiece. “Initiate another data spike . . . We need to disrupt the second neural stream . . . We could make it worse . . . How could it get any worse . . . Shut up and do it . . . Just get out of my way . . .” I can hear a shuffling, a series of frantic taps on glass, and then an ominous descending hum as all the lights in the office suddenly begin to dim and flicker.

  “What’s going on over there?” the Captain shouts. “What’s happening to the lights? Where’s my camera feed?”

  At the desk, there’s pointing and accusations as the men try to decide who’s going to tell Captain Delgado that they have no idea what the hell they’re doing.

  Finally Corporal Avary straightens and smooths down his uniform, clearly struggling to think of an excuse to tell Captain Delgado. He takes a breath and is about to speak when six holographic projection screens suddenly spring from the series of slates on the desk in front of the men. The Corporal looks as surprised as everyon
e else when, all around the office, slates on other desks begin beaming large, glowing holoscreens into midair, too. There must be at least a dozen, all of them identical blue-rimmed rectangles, and all of them fizzing with static. “You’re on a roll, Corporal!” booms Captain Delgado. “Where are the pictures? Show me what’s happening down there.”

  No sooner does the Captain say the words when the lines of static begin dipping and bending and contouring into a shape. A shape duplicated on every floating screen in the room.

  “What the hell is that?” the Captain asks.

  As if responding directly to his question, a ghostly, distorted voice suddenly whispers eerily throughout the room. “What have you done? I tried to hold them back. I tried to give you time. What have you done?”

  At the sound of the voice, Otto leaves her slate on the couch and quickly nuzzles in beside me and Brody to peek over the wall. Percy is standing now, too, and Brent, Margaux, the Professor, the medics, and even the wounded soldiers are focused on one screen or another.

  “Who are you?” Captain Delgado demands.

  The shape is becoming more defined. Now I can make out the fuzzy pits of two eyes and the curve of a nose.

  “I have been trying to help you,” says the voice. “But whatever you did, you’ve ripped me away, and I can’t get back.” It’s still raspy and distant, but it’s undeniably female.

  “Who is this? Identify yourself,” orders Captain Delgado.

  “Javier, please, listen to me.” At the mention of his name, Captain Delgado’s expression freezes. The static shape begins morphing and sharpening into three-dimensional detail until there, hovering over every slate on every desk, is the face of a strikingly beautiful woman, her long, straight, jet-black hair; deep-blue eyes; and pale-pink lips perfect against her flawless porcelain skin. I can’t stop staring. I’ve seen that woman before; I’m sure of it. I dredge through my mind, searching everything I’ve seen from all the years of Finn’s life that I’ve trawled through over the past four weeks, and suddenly it hits me. That woman was standing beside Richard Blackstone in a photograph I saw in Finn’s memories. I remember now. That woman out there is Finn’s mother, which obviously means that she’s also my . . .