Staring at him intently, Zora said, “You just thought of something. Care to share?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “I know you’ve been turned into super warriors through a combination of transgenic mutation and nano-technology. What I don’t know is why. Wait a minute. Is this part of Eli’s crazy plan to unite the Earth against an alien attack?”
“He told you about that?”
Jeremiah nodded. “He’s mentioned it before—something that’s been floating in his mind for decades—got it from some old science fiction. I never took it seriously.”
Zora smiled briefly. “I think you’ll find we’re serious.”
“I’m sure you are. Let me see if I remember how it goes.” Jeremiah fingered the QuikHeal bandages next to his legs. Should he attack? “You attack various governments around the globe, forcing them to work together to bring you down. Eventually they triumph and realize how important it is to cooperate. Peace and goodwill ensue.”
Zora laughed—bubbly and warm—a laugh designed to entice. “Not exactly.”
“You think you can win? How many people do you have, fifty? A hundred?”
Zora stared at him for a few seconds, an uncomfortable gaze that reached right inside him. She bent over and put her hands on the arms of his wheelchair, bringing her head down to his level, and closed her eyes. Was she challenging him to use the QuikHeal bandages on her? She breathed in deeply, as if smelling him. He couldn’t help but smile as he inhaled too, noting again her peculiar sweet and spicy aroma. He forced himself to stillness, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, she glanced at his hands, grinned and said, “What am I supposed to do?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “You’ve been programmed to want to do this. It’s a false desire. But what to do about it, I don’t know. I just . . . mass murder is not the answer.”
“As opposed to all the other wars humans started. Those all made sense.”
Forgetting how painful it was, Jeremiah shrugged again. “People are what they are. Maybe they’ll never change. Devereaux might know what to do.”
“Everybody plays games. Everybody tries to manipulate us. Why can’t anyone be straight with us?”
“It’s part of our competitive nature to seek whatever advantage we can. Besides, I find it hard to believe you’re easily manipulated.”
Zora suddenly straightened, pushed out her breasts, licked her lips and blinked her eyes. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”
What was her game? “Yes,” he answered.
“What does that mean?” She sounded serious, almost desperate.
Jeremiah gave it some thought. After a moment he said, “It’s purely physical. I see you as beautiful because I’ve been conditioned to think of beauty a certain way, and you exemplify those characteristics.”
Zora’s frown lessened. Her head nodded almost imperceptibly. But her brow knitted again and she said, “Am I human?”
This one Jeremiah didn’t have to think about. “As much as I am,” he gestured toward the door, “or the Escala are. Your genetic structure has been modified. Nano-technology added—hormones and proteins and amino acids. But you’re still you. You’re still self-aware, able to reason, decide issues that extend beyond yourself and your immediate environment. You’re just smarter and stronger and faster than you used to be.”
Zora smiled. “Yes. It’s clever what they did to me. Do you want to plow me?”
Jeremiah almost laughed, but he kept the humor out of his face and voice. “No,” he said. “Whatever they did to you, they didn’t finish. You’re still not complete. You’re a little girl.”
“I don’t feel like a little girl,” Zora said, her face setting into hardness. “Tell me about Curtik.”
“I already told you. I don’t know him.”
“He also wants to kill Damon.”
“Damon?” Jeremiah felt a shiver work down his back. “Why?”
“Damon and his tong supported me for brigade leader.”
Jeremiah kept his eyes on her beautiful face. He had to remind himself that she was just a child, no more than nine or ten.
Zora studied him for a moment, her luminous brown eyes steady on his in an adult way that was unsettling. “If I send you back to Earth, what will you do?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just answer the question.”
“All I care about,” Jeremiah said, “is finding a cure for my son. Everything else can wait.”
“Curtik says you’ll come after us if I let you go. He says you won’t rest until you’ve stopped us. That’s why you have to be killed.”
“If you already know why Curtik wants me dead,” Jeremiah said, “why did you ask me about him?”
“Because Curtik’s a liar, like Poole and Eli. And he’s got his own reasons for wanting you dead. I wondered if you knew what they are.”
“Sorry,” Jeremiah said. “It’s certainly possible that Eli ordered him to kill me. But Eli could have had me killed many times in the past. Why now?”
Zora bit down on her lower lip—one of the most striking young women Jeremiah had ever seen. She said, “I’m still trying to figure out Eli’s angle.”
“I can tell you he’s always playing a different game than what he’s showing you.”
“Well, duh,” Zora said. “But what is it?”
Jeremiah shrugged. “It might be as simple as it seems. Set up a scenario where either side could win and see who does.”
Zora nodded slowly. “If I keep you here, Curtik might get to you. I can’t watch him every minute. On the other hand, from what I know of you, you’re the most dangerous foe we could have. I probably should let Curtik kill you. And Damon doesn’t seem to like you very much. Still, if you think you can get help for him, I might send you back to Earth on the next LTV.”
“You’re letting the LTVs continue?”
“We cut off all communication,” Zora said. “They don’t know what’s going on up here, so they’re prepping an LTV, sending it in a few days, hoping to discover why they can’t contact us. Meanwhile, Dr. Wellon will try to find a cure for Damon’s condition. Maybe Devereaux can help too. Dr. Poole hasn’t found anything yet.”
“Thank you,” Jeremiah said.
“Don’t thank me yet. I still may have you killed.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lendra Riley sat in the first row behind the pilots as the emergency LTV approached the Moon. She found the view spectacular. Up close the Moon looked massive, while Lunar Base 1 appeared as a tiny outpost in the harshest environment imaginable. Some distance away stood the Pilgrim, the Escala ship soon bound for Mars.
Next to her sat Colonel Dez Truman—her liaison to the eight Elite Ops troopers President Hope had sent to contain the cadets. More like a bodyguard, actually.
The troopers, in the back of the LTV near their armor, had ogled Lendra and made crude comments throughout the journey. Even Captain Bailey, their leader, had joined in the harassment, which made her glad for Colonel Truman’s presence. Eli had insisted she go because, in case the Elite Ops failed to retake the Moon, she had a mission of her own. Lendra also needed to see Jeremiah and learn how badly he was injured.
She still felt guilty over allowing Eli’s doctors to impregnate her with Jeremiah’s child, even though duty demanded another of Jeremiah’s progeny, for his genes were so uniquely adaptable that he owed them to the world. Nevertheless, Lendra felt disconcerted about how it had all happened. She fingered her glass bulb necklace, which contained her emergency stash of neo-dopamine, feeling the addicting pull of it; she hadn’t taken any since the in vitro fertilization and she was feeling a little edgy.
She still cared deeply for Jeremiah, but she wondered how he felt about her. Hopefully, once he knew she was carrying his baby, he would embrace his new family. And perhaps the knowledge that Lendra was carrying
his daughter would even aid in his recovery.
During the trip she and Truman had reminisced about their shared past: Sister Ezekiel, the nun with the courage of a martyr, who became one in the end; Gray Weiss, the well-meaning but misguided Attorney General who’d been killed by Richard Carlton; Devereaux and Jeremiah and the Escala, whom many on Earth were blaming for the sudden communications blackout.
Lendra also confided to Truman that Jeremiah’s son was one of the cadets who’d taken over the Moon, and she mentioned that Jeremiah had been injured and somehow infected with the Susquehanna Virus.
“I know it’s not his fault,” Truman said, “but everywhere he goes, trouble follows. And here we are again. That man is a menace.”
Lendra said, “Perhaps I should have told you that he and I have been involved for the past year.”
Truman’s mouth opened, then closed.
And now I’ve betrayed his trust. I hope he forgives me.
Truman shook his head. “You know, ever since Minnesota a year ago, I suspected you were more than you appeared to be. But I didn’t realize just how senior you are until President Hope and Elias Leach impressed on me the necessity of keeping you healthy. You’re an important young woman.”
“They’re just being overly protective.”
“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Truman said. “I’ve always wanted to visit the Moon. Emily—my wife—and I have been having some difficulties since . . . well, for a long time. She’s a professional protester—against government, corporate greed, genetically modified foods, genetically altered humans, designer babies and synthetic biological organisms. And those are just the major ones. I lost count of her causes years ago.”
Lendra didn’t know how to respond to that. She said, “It’s nice that she keeps herself active.”
Truman laughed. “In another way,” he said, “I dread this assignment. I have these nightmares—the murder of Sister Ezekiel, the piled bodies of innocent Devereauxnians, especially the little children sliced in half by laser fire. Life feels very precious now, more so than ever before, and I wonder if that feeling is making a coward of me. I hope my nerve will hold up. And I hope these bastards behind us don’t cut those kids in half as soon as they step off the LTV.”
“You’ll be fine,” Lendra said, patting his leg while at the same time fingering her glass bulb necklace. She looked out the window, not wanting more talk, and he got the hint and left her alone. She liked that about him.
After a while Truman fell asleep and she considered how best to approach Jeremiah. Did she love him? She wanted to. But in the weeks before he’d left, Jeremiah had become distant. She admired his intelligence, his principles, his sense of duty and honor. But she also recognized that part of what had drawn her to him was her own ambition. And now there would always be elements of guilt in their relationship. Maybe her doubts were fueled by her condition. Perhaps she would know the truth when she saw him. Would she feel again that warm tingling in her belly?
Lendra hoped the Elite Ops would win, but she somehow knew they wouldn’t, which meant that she would have to take over from Poole, whose work was finished, and who was a failure anyway because the cadets were out of control. But it was the last part of Eli’s instructions that bothered her the most. “If necessary,” he’d said, “you might have to eliminate Poole.” And then he’d spelled out the entirety of his plan and how she might have to use a hidden program encrypted into Poole’s files to destroy the cadets.
Lendra hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She decided to take her mind off such an unpleasant task and instead renewed her study of the cadets’ bios—particularly Zora—and Curtik, Jeremiah’s son.
As the LTV fired its retro rockets, Truman awoke. Together they watched the LTV touch down on the Moon and taxi toward the main hangar of Lunar Base 1. Behind them, Captain Bailey got the Elite Ops troopers to their feet and headed to their armor.
They joked with each other about invading the Moon and taking out anyone who got in their way as they stripped off their mock gravity flightsuits and stepped into their armor. Donning their helmets, the Elite Ops activated their power packs, which emitted a high-pitched whine. Then, looking menacing and indestructible, they lined up and waited for the LTV to come to a stop.
Lendra got to her feet and peeled off her flightsuit, causing one of the troopers to wolf whistle, while another sang the notes from The Stripper.
“That’s enough,” Truman ordered as he too stepped out of his mock gravity suit.
“Didn’t meant no harm,” Captain Bailey replied.
“Bite me,” another trooper spoke sotto voce.
“You two stay back now, hear?” Captain Bailey said. “Let us take point. Once we clear out the opposition, you can make your reports.”
The pilots sealed the LTV’s doorway to the connector of Lunar Base 1 and via remote moved the wheeled staircase into position. Through the monitors, Lendra saw only eight cadets in the hangar, standing casually in a semi-circle a few meters away from the staircase. She recognized Curtik, in the middle of the formation, from his bio. Next to him stood a pale female cadet—Aspen, Lendra recalled.
“Let’s move,” Captain Bailey said.
As they opened the hatch and descended the wheeled staircase, Lendra and Colonel Truman followed, taking up position at the top of the stairs. The cadets, Lendra noticed, made no aggressive moves. They smiled as they stood in their semicircle, looking innocent, watching the approaching troopers.
“Hands up!” Captain Bailey ordered, his voice amplified by a microphone in his helmet. “Don’t nobody move.”
Curtik raised his hands and the rest of the cadets followed his lead.
“Where’s Admiral Cho?” Bailey asked as he drew to within a few feet of Curtik. “Where are the military personnel? Who’s in charge? Where are the civilians? Keep your hands up.”
Curtik said, “We mean you no harm.”
“You move and we’ll blow you away so fast you ain’t gonna know how you died. Now tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“Don’t hurt us,” Curtik said. “We’re unarmed. We’re just kids. It was those evil Escala—those pseudos—who did it. They took over the Moon. They’re the ones you want. They made us stand out here ’cause they were afraid you’d start shooting. God, I hate them.”
“Pseudos, huh?” Captain Bailey lowered his Las-rifle fractionally. “Don’t think so. We heard it was you kids.”
“That’s what they wanted you to think. They threatened to eat us. They’re gonna kill us all, and they’re gonna kill you.”
“If it was the pseudos, how come they ain’t around?”
“Hiding,” Curtik said. He pointed toward the plas-glass ceiling. “Up there.”
As Captain Bailey and the rest of the Elite Ops troopers glanced up, Curtik and his fellow cadets moved—so swiftly Lendra almost missed it. Eight arms shot out, eight fists striking the Elite Ops troopers at the junction where their helmets met their body armor. The troopers fired their Las-rifles wildly, while the cadets ripped the troopers’ helmets from their heads. Curtik snapped Bailey’s neck. Two other cadets—Phan and Benn, Lendra noted—did likewise, while Aspen and the other cadets pressed their palms against the remaining troopers’ cheeks. The troopers fell to the floor, obviously victims of some sort of knockout cocktail.
“Anyone hurt?” Aspen asked.
The cadets all shook their heads.
“Just these three,” Curtik said, gesturing to the dead troopers at his feet.
Benn and Phan laughed.
“You weren’t supposed to kill them,” Aspen said.
“Oops,” Curtik replied. “A small accident. They’re more fragile than they look. Besides, we gotta do it sooner or later. Plus they smell funny. Can I kill the rest? Please? I’m askin’ pretty.”
Aspen shook her head. “Zora wants to question them.”
> * * *
Escorted by Aspen, Lendra walked beside Truman, feeling almost as light as air. Her stomach, which hadn’t bothered her while she was wearing a mock-gravity flight suit, attempted a series of somersaults. She clamped her jaw tightly and glanced over at Truman, who wore a frown.
When they reached Admiral Cho’s office, Aspen directed them inside, following them in. Standing beside Cho’s desk was Zora. She, like the other cadets, projected innocence and beauty. If anything, she appeared even more angelic than her peers, with curly blond hair and deep brown eyes, bronze skin and an athletic figure.
But Lendra’s interface had provided a great deal of information about Zora and the cadets. She knew Zora was the smartest, just as Curtik was the most violent, while Aspen, standing behind her with a Las-rifle, was perhaps the most unpredictable. Lendra wondered whether it would be possible to manipulate these kids or if she would have to destroy them.
Zora carried no weapon and couldn’t be hiding one under her clothes either. Her white shimmer cloth coveralls clung to her shapely body. Yet strangely, despite her obviously blossoming maturity, she exuded little sexuality. Or was that just the fact that she was female? No, now that Lendra thought about it, Curtik and the male cadets also were oddly asexual.
“Welcome, Miss Riley,” Zora said. “It’s so good to meet another of Eli’s minions. And a pregnant one at that.”
“How did you—”
“Our scans picked it up,” Zora explained. “I can see by your bodyguard’s surprise that he didn’t know.” She looked past Lendra to Aspen. “I think you can leave us alone. Check on Curtik. He’s certain to do something stupid soon.”
“May I see Jeremiah Jones?” Lendra asked.
“Is he the father of your child?” Zora asked. When Lendra didn’t reply, she added, “Does he know?”
Lendra shook her head.
“Well, that can wait,” Zora said. “We have a few things to take care of first.”
The Susquehanna Virus Box Set Page 58
