The GODD Chip (The Unity of Four Book 1)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  A blast of static spiked in Damon’s ear. The holographic map fluttered and then disappeared. Yanking out his earbud, Damon wheeled around to face the bank of operators manning their surveillance stations. “What now? Get my map back up.”

  The mix of goggled men and women, hands outstretched, tapped their floating holoboards with rapid strokes, but no one spoke. The apparent show of desperation told Damon all he needed to know. His adversaries had disabled the communications link with the border security team…and most likely the drones overhead.

  “Damn it! Someone talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Interference of some kind. It’s not on our end,” Cassidy said.

  “A jamming device?” Damon asked.

  “Possibly…or an EMP attack.”

  “What?” Damon frowned. “From where?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s knocked out our glider feeds as well.”

  “Punch up the satellite, then. Put it on my table.”

  Damon leaned over the holotable just as the live night-vision satellite image appeared. He blinked several times as he tried to make sense of the scene. There was a haze that hovered over the area. As thick as a cumulus cloud, there was no way to see below it. But from what Damon could see at the periphery of the haze, there was no mystery as to what had happened. A fire raged in the forest and he could see the edge of a large crater where the security barricade had been erected. The van had exploded.

  “Magnify,” Damon said. “Focus on the crater.”

  As the pixels in the recalibrated image began to fill in and sharpen, Damon saw heaps of twisted, burning objects.

  “Not again,” Damon mumbled. He stared at the image for a few more seconds and then said, “Cassidy, get those drones working or send in new ones. Order reinforcements from the sector barracks. Shut down every road in a twenty-mile radius...and get the damned comms back online!”

  Western border wall

  Lakelands Province, New Atlantia

  When Takoda and Yon reached the tunnel, they found the hologrid camouflaging the entrance was still active.

  “Do you think Ellie made it?” Yon asked.

  Takoda knelt and lifted the rock which concealed the control box for the hologrid. “I hope so. She had a hell of a head start on us.”

  “Should we wait a few minutes? Just in case?”

  In the distance, Takoda could hear the echoes of radio chatter and men shouting. “We don’t have the time. She knows how to open the hatch.” He deactivated the holoimage obscuring the tunnel hatch and punched in the code to open it. Pulling the hatch door up, Takoda stared into the dark maw and said, “You first.”

  Just as Yon began to step down the inner ladder, a voice echoed up from inside the tunnel. “Wait. I’m coming up.”

  It was Ellie. Yon stepped out of the tunnel and said, “Is everything okay?”

  The android’s head appeared through the entrance. “Yes. Billy’s secure.”

  “Thank the four gods,” Yon said.

  Ellie exited the tunnel and knelt next to Takoda. “You two go ahead. I’ll keep watch.”

  Takoda followed Yon into the tunnel. When they reached the bottom of the ladder, Takoda called up to Ellie. “All right. We’re good. Get inside and seal the hatch. I’ll reactivate the grid from down here.”

  But Ellie did not respond. As Takoda cupped his hands around his mouth to call up again, the hatch slammed shut. Looking to his right, he spied the hologrid control box next to the ladder. The activation indicator turned green and the tunnel lights illuminated.

  “Uh oh,” said Yon.

  “Uh oh is right,” Takoda said. “The border patrol must have been closing in. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  As they ran along the passageway snaking beneath the border wall, Takoda looked back and wondered if he would ever see Ellie again. His stomach churned as he thought of Ake’s sacrifice, but the prospect of losing Ellie too made his heart ache. Gritting his teeth, he looked forward and pressed on. The cost of rescuing Billy had indeed been high. He could only hope Sarah Hearns would come through now with the information they needed.

  CHAPTER 7: HEAVY TOLL

  Ke'e Cove

  Kauai, the Hawaiian Islands

  Natti reeled in the line and yanked the fish out of the ocean. She turned to show RJ the wriggling fish but discovered RJ had his head turned toward the dense jungle behind the beach.

  “Check it out. A goatfish! Your favorite,” said Natti.

  RJ quickly peeked at Natti before returning to look at the jungle. “Shouldn’t we be going soon?”

  Kaleo answered from his spot by other poles anchored into slots on the rocky overhang. “Relax, little man. Sun’s nowhere near the horizon. We’ve got plenty of time. You do want to eat tonight, don’t you?”

  “Oh, leave him alone,” Avana said. “He’s just saying what we’re all thinking. The jungle is creepy this time of day. That’s why no one likes fishing here.”

  Natti shook her head as she removed the fish from the hook. Avana’s comments were accurate; no one in the village liked fishing in the remote cove, but it wasn’t right of her to stoke RJ’s fears. She held out the fish to Avana and said, “Less talking, more working. Spike it, bleed it and ice it. RJ, re-bait the line and set the pole.”

  With a smattering of grumbles, the two did as they were told. Natti wiped her hands on a towel beside the ice chest, storing their catch for the day and limping out onto the overhang. Kaleo nodded to her and raised his head toward the sky. “Clouds are getting dark. Rain’s coming.”

  “Yeah, looks that way.”

  “Might be a good reason to head back sooner rather than later.”

  “Nah, it’ll pass over quickly. It always does.”

  Though she spoke with confidence, Natti felt the same apprehension as Kaleo. But the village had to eat, and Natti’s small family had to do their part. Returning with their ice chest only a third-full of fish was not an option. Besides, jakalis only attacked at night. Plus, Akela had sent two Makoas with them, Bali and Fiji. If there was any sign of jakalis, they would be the first to raise an alarm, and right now they looked at ease.

  Bali, rifle slung over his shoulder, sat on a rock by the entrance to the jungle trail leading up the hillside. Machete resting on his lap, he scanned the perimeter. Fiji stood on the beach by the overhang, her feet in the surf and laser rifle at the ready. In synchronized fashion, she scanned left as Bali scanned right. When their gazes reached their respective ends of the perimeter, they reversed the directions of their scans.

  Looking back at Kaleo, Natti noticed his hands were clenched into fists. With a soothing tone, she said, “Why don’t you take a break? Maybe help RJ build a sandcastle. I’ll keep an eye on the poles.”

  He nodded and relaxed his hands. “Okay. The rain will probably wash it away before we finish, but I get you. It’ll distract the little guy.”

  The sunbaked Hawaiian teen hopped off the overhang and corralled RJ. Together, they plodded through the sand and found a spot near the still-scanning Fiji. Kaleo chatted her up while he began to dig.

  One of the poles creaked, drawing Natti’s attention. As she reached for it, another line went taut. “Avana, come help.”

  The wiry thirteen-year-old left her seat atop the ice bucket and jogged up beside Natti. She took hold of the second pole and worked to reel in the catch. Meanwhile, Natti found herself struggling to stand as the fish on her line fought hard to break free.

  “Why don’t we switch?” Natti said. “This one’s too big for me.”

  It was a hard admission for Natti to make, for she had more fishing experience than any of the others, but her bad leg made her unstable. She didn’t want to fall on the sharp volcanic rocks and add insult to injury by losing the fish. Avana was younger, stronger and had a knack for landing big catches.

  Soon after they switched poles, the clouds let loose with a downpour. Natti’s tank top and shorts were drenched in less than a minute. Throu
gh vision blurred by raindrops pelting her eyes, Natti saw Avana stagger forward and teeter on the edge of the overhang. She bent her knees as she grappled with whatever was on the end of her line.

  A shadow moved past Natti’s field of vision. It was Fiji. The android grabbed hold of Avana’s pole and pushed the teen aside. Avana stumbled and shouted at the android as it inexplicably threw down the rod.

  Above the sound of the pounding rain, Natti heard another sound. It was RJ… screaming. Natti started to turn toward him but stopped when she felt the rod yanking out of her hands. The unexpected resistance caused Natti to tip over but Fiji caught her by the arm before she hit the rocks.

  Heart racing, Natti turned her head to look at the jungle. “Oh, no.”

  “Get behind me, all of you,” shouted Fiji. “Stay together.”

  Across the beach, through a curtain of rain, Natti saw Bali on the ground, a pack of jakalis on top of him.

  “Let go! We have to run!” RJ screamed. “Let go!”

  Natti turned to see Kaleo carrying the squirming RJ. The young boy pummeled Kaleo on the face and shoulders.

  “No!” said Fiji, her amplified voice booming out. “We have signaled the village. More Makoas are on the way. Take cover behind the rock.”

  Before anyone could protest her command, Fiji opened fire with her laser rifle. Flaming chunks of jakalis tumbled in the air. Those that escaped Fiji’s initial barrage continued to spear and smash Bali. Natti saw sparks and jerky motions from Bali’s arms. More of the beasts raced out from the cover of the jungle. Natti instinctively looked around the cove and spotted another pack streaming toward them from the opposite direction. She pointed toward them and said, “Fiji, look! More are coming.”

  As Fiji turned to aim her weapon at the onrushing jakalis, Natti pulled the android’s machete from its sheath. Anger overtook fear and she barked at Kaleo. “Get the spike, the gutting knives. Hand them out.”

  The stream of another laser beam shot forth from Fiji’s rifle. The blinding jolt cut through the legs of sprinting jakalis like a blade slicing open pineapples. They howled and fell to the ground. Behind them, more jakalis spread out, zig-zagging a course toward Fiji, Natti and her huddled charges.

  An explosion rocked the beach. Natti lost her balance and splashed into the surf. As she crawled out of the water, ears ringing, eyes stinging, the once quiet cove was transformed into a gruesome battleground.

  The sand was dotted with burning debris. The spot where Bali had come under attack was now a crater. Behind it, the edge of the jungle was engulfed in flames. Injured jakalis, some of them on fire, writhed on the ground. Fiji sprayed the beach and tree line with blazing beams.

  As Natti regained her wits, she squeezed the handle of the machete and rose to her feet. A spear flew past her hip and struck the rock beside her. Natti turned to see RJ cowering and covering his ears. His eyes were frozen with panic, his face turning purple as he screamed. Avana crouched in front of RJ, protecting him from the advancing jakalis. She had a fish spike in hand and a snarl on her face.

  A flash of panic raced through Natti. Kaleo! Where was Kaleo? Her head shot up and she scanned the beach. Through the haze of smoke mixing with rain, she spotted him sprawled on his back, a spear in his abdomen.

  Something snapped inside of Natti and she found herself staggering toward Kaleo, machete slicing through the air. A jakali lay on the beach, not far from him. The bloody beast was crawling toward her injured friend. Memories of the torment she had endured rushed into her mind and Natti began to growl at the wounded jakali, at all of them that littered the beach. With both hands clutching the hilt of the machete, Natti hopped forward until she loomed over the crawling jakali. She raised the weapon above her head. Amid the fires surrounding her, the blade sparkled.

  Natti screamed as she lopped off the jakali’s head. Spinning around, she looked for another to attack. She felled three more before two knocked her off her feet, tackling her to the ground. One pinned her down and bit her neck while the other, a female jakali, kicked her in the head. A third and a fourth quickly joined the assault, beating her legs and arms with their fists. Natti struggled against them but there were too many, and they were too strong. Natti closed her eyes and screamed as they lifted her and began to carry her away.

  But then, just as suddenly, they stopped and dropped her. Natti heard gunfire and cries of pain. She curled into a ball and covered her head. A body fell on her. She wiggled to get away, but the body lifted off of her so fast it felt as if it had been blown off by a giant wind. Natti opened her eyes and saw a Makoa standing beside her, flinging jakalis across the sand like twigs. Woozy, she curled into a ball again and faded into unconsciousness.

  From the hillside overlooking the cove, a camouflaged woman watched the Makoas finish off the last of the jakalis. Hidden by foliage, she lowered her binoculars and smiled at the grunting jakali male squatting next to her. Smoothing his greasy hair, she said, “There is much to improve on, but you did well, Christopher.”

  The jakali smiled or at least tried to. His disfigured jaw and tensed facial muscles produced more of a sneer, but she understood the gesture. Christopher flared his nostrils and tried to speak, but he still lacked control over his vocal cords so all that came out were groans. He pointed to his open mouth, his bloodshot eyes pleading with her.

  The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial. The jakali snatched it and dashed off into the underbrush. She smiled again and raised the binoculars once more. Through its magnified lenses, she watched Makoas gather up the injured fishing party while other androids piled fallen jakalis onto a bonfire. She zoomed in on the face of the unconscious girl who had wielded the machete. A Makoa cradled her in his arms.

  Lowering the binoculars, the woman whispered, “Sleep well, gutant. The worst is yet to come.”

  The southern Northlands

  En route to Flathead, Montana

  As the assault vehicle bumped along the rutted mountain road, Caelan sipped coffee and walked down the aisle lined by his docked hunters. The androids would be recharging and updating their software for another hour, so it was an opportune time for Caelan to assess the damage inflicted by jakalis during the last two weeks of hunts.

  Of his ten Makoas, only two made it through their jakali skirmishes unscathed. Among the damaged androids, one was destroyed beyond repair. Two others were barely operational. Caelan had been forced to use them in the last few operations solely as recon and comms support. The remaining five were in fighting shape despite a range of broken and battered parts.

  Collectively, it was not the worst damage Caelan’s squad had experienced in his jakali search, rescue and destroy missions across the globe, but it was close. He patted his dormant squad leader, Elvis, on the shoulder. “Hopefully, the chop-shop in Flathead will have all the parts we need.”

  Examining Elvis’ dented torso, patched neck and missing fingers, Caelan rued the jakalis’ improved fighting skills. They were becoming more proficient combatants, which was a terrifying thought.

  Not only were they learning to coordinate attacks and mount defenses with greater sophistication, but the gutant beasts were also learning how to exploit their opponents’ weaknesses to greater effect.

  Caelan first noticed the change in their behavior during his spring expedition into the Northlands when he encountered jakalis who had learned to distinguish humans from androids. This development led the gutant-freaks to create new combat strategies depending on the type of adversary in question. Caelan assumed the jakalis had made this leap after recognizing the differences in smell. For even though humans and androids were nearly indistinguishable visually, it was hard to replicate certain odors; the most relevant as it applied to jakalis was the smell of fear.

  The sight of a pack of jakalis streaking toward a human was terrifying enough to make the toughest of men break into a sweat, and in that perspiration, humans exuded detectable chemicals that signaled fear to other humans, so-called fear-swe
at. Androids didn’t emit fear-sweat.

  So, Caelan adopted new tactics of his own, often layering his Makoas in clothing removed from dead human victims. Not only did he use the clothes to “nose-blind” his adversaries in crowds, but he also used the clothes on occasion to lure jakalis into a kill-zone.

  After several successful confrontations using this new strategy, Caelan discovered his opponents began using another tactic to distinguish humans from androids. They used their teeth to bite off chunks of flesh. Since androids didn’t bleed and their flesh was synthetic, the jakalis learned to quickly distinguish the taste and sight of human bite wounds from those administered to androids.

  Strategically, the jakalis had also recently recognized that humans typically deployed androids as front-line soldiers and guards. With this knowledge, they modified their attacks on villages or other fixed clusters of humans, sending in feint-parties to draw off androids before unleashing the core of their attacks on humans behind the lines.

  Caelan was at a loss to identify the catalyst for the emergence of these new coordinated behaviors. He had hunted the beasts for years, and for much of that time, jakalis had shown no ability or interest in working with other jakalis. That was what had made them easy to hunt. They were so consumed by their madness, their lust, they neither thought nor acted rationally. But that was changing. If he only knew why he could further adapt his tactics.

  Were the new behaviors signs of a new gutation, one that aided certain jakalis’ abilities to suppress their madness and communicate with each other? If not that, then had an entirely new breed of jakalis arisen? Among the upper castes, Caelan knew there was a fear that unsterilized jakalis would mate with each other. Were these changes evidence of such a phenomenon?

  Setting aside genetic alterations as possible catalysts, Caelan considered the possibility the jakalis had discovered a new food source in the Northlands, one with ingredients that quelled their emotions enough to allow rational thoughts to surface more frequently. Or maybe a native tribe had plied them with mind-soothing remedies as appeasements for sparing their villages.