The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  Within seconds, Major Payne’s voice came over the house’s intercom system: “Come out with your hands up, Jones. We’ve got the place surrounded and we’ve disabled your jet-copter. You’ve got nowhere to run.”

  Jeremiah strode over to the wife and daughter and grabbed their arms. The daughter screamed again and her mother hushed her. Jeremiah said, “Come with me and you won’t be harmed.”

  “I know who you are,” the wife said as he hustled them up the stairs. “I’m Caitlyn. Our daughter’s name is Marishaw. Anderlin told me about you. He said they got these new strains of the virus from you. He said you’re not a bad man and that you won’t hurt us.”

  Jeremiah led them into the attached garage, where a jet-car was parked beside two other vehicles. “Inside,” he said, giving them a gentle push.

  “You don’t want to take us with you,” Caitlyn said. “We’ll only slow you down, Marishaw and me. You can have the car. Just let us stay here with Anderlin. You know that’s the honorable thing to do.”

  Jeremiah called the vid drone over and shut it off.

  “Only Anderlin can drive this car,” Caitlyn said. “No other voice print will activate it. Why not turn yourself in? They’ll treat you fairly. Anderlin will make sure of it.”

  Pulling the cover off the console, Jeremiah activated the emergency override, a standard feature that allowed police officers and firefighters to move the vehicle when its owner was incapacitated. He opened the garage door and they took off.

  Chapter 36

  Aspen worked beside Addam and Kammilee, gently piecing together the organic computer that held the ship’s brain, while two other WT model robots worked on other parts of the bridge the Chescala had destroyed. Phan and Shiloh remained in the infirmary, recovering from the explosion in the engine room. Most of the remaining robots had retreated to the engine room to try to coax the ship’s propulsion systems back on line while WT-916 served as their guard. The robot carried a Las-rifle, but aimed it away from them, while the other two WT robots went unarmed.

  “Why do you think the robots want us to repair the organic computer?” Addam asked. “They’re better at this kind of work than we are.”

  “I don’t know,” Aspen replied. She turned to WT-916. “Why us?”

  “It was agreed,” the robot said.

  “But why?”

  The robot shrugged. “Some do not trust Mei-Xing.”

  “You trust us?”

  “If you do not fix the ship’s brain, you will die. We can survive without the ship’s power for much longer than you. Those of us who desire your continued survival asked that you be allowed to try to fix it. Mei-Xing and her cadre have agreed.”

  Kammilee said, “How much time do we have until life support system failure?”

  “Six hours.”

  “Six hours!” Aspen said.

  “That is correct.” WT-916 looked as unconcerned as if she were announcing that there would be no dinner this evening. “You can also wear your repaired Mars suits and gain an additional few hours, if necessary.”

  Six hours. Aspen looked at Addam and Kammilee, saw the shock on their faces and realized it reflected how she felt. She’d thought they’d have days at least and probably weeks or months before the ship’s life support systems failed.

  “How can that be?” Kammilee asked.

  “We have not been able to patch all the holes in the ship. It continues to leak atmosphere into space.”

  “There’s no way we can get the ship’s brain put back together that quickly,” Addam said. “Not without Phan and Shiloh, anyway. Mei-Xing is obviously keeping us here because she wants us out of her way until we die.”

  “Then we need to prove her wrong,” Aspen said.

  “But we don’t have the expertise to put this back together.”

  “There is a larger problem,” WT-916 said.

  “Worse than us dying?” Aspen said.

  “Indeed.” The sarcasm slipped past WT-916. “The ship’s organic computer is very delicate. Its core memories and processing abilities depend on bioelectrical movement across its surface.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “If the ship’s computer is not repaired within the next three or four hours, it may not be salvageable. Theoretically, the ship could still be operated manually, but it would no longer have a mind of its own.”

  “The news just keeps getting better and better,” Aspen said.

  “This is bad news,” WT-916 said.

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “Oh.” WT-916 went still for a moment, as if analyzing the sarcasm. Then she shrugged and said, “When we analyzed the ship’s brain earlier, we found residual electrical movement in the organics. That continued until a few minutes ago. Our previous assumption was that there would be some trickle of bio-chemical activity while the computer was being repaired. That is no longer the case.”

  “Can the life support systems be saved without the organic computer?” Addam asked.

  WT-916 glanced at the two WT robots working on a panel a few feet away.

  “I will consult with WT-934 and WT-935,” WT-916 said. “They are engineering specialists.”

  Aspen said, “Shouldn’t the ship have certain redundancies built in to ensure the survival of life forms? There should be several backups for the life support systems.”

  “That is true. However, the explosion damaged quite a lot, including all backup systems.”

  Addam said, “At least Mei-Xing will be happy to get rid of us. She wanted to dump us at the first planetoid she could find when we first came on board.”

  “We’re not dead yet,” said Aspen, “and even if we can’t save ourselves, we owe it to the ship to try to save its brain. It’s been our ally. It obstructed Mei-Xing in the past and may do so in the future if we can save it.” She looked at WT-916. “Right?”

  WT-916 smiled. “That is correct.”

  “So let’s get to work,” Addam said. “We need to think outside the box.”

  “Speaking of boxes,” Kammilee said, “what was in those boxes you ran across in the hold? Anything in there that could be of value?”

  “I’d forgotten about them,” Aspen replied. “WT-916?”

  The robot said, “I want to be called Lulu.”

  Addam frowned and mouthed, Lulu?

  Aspen shook her head, amazed that the robot could concern itself with something like a designation at a time like this. “Fine,” she said. “Lulu, what’s in those boxes in the hold?”

  “Mostly organic material for when the ship landed on Mars. Seeds and plants for the Chescala to build their colony.”

  Addam looked at Aspen and shook his head. “That doesn’t help,” he said.

  “Maybe not,” Kammilee agreed, “but what if we could modify some of the organic material into a slurry that we could paint onto the computer?”

  “Interesting,” Aspen said, feeling hope rising. “You mean like a paste that would not only fuse together the shredded parts but also allow for connectivity across missing pieces?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s certainly thinking outside the box. But the calculations would be very complex.”

  Addam said, “Are there any computers onboard we can use?”

  “Mei-Xing says no,” Lulu said.

  “Is Mei-Xing your superior?” Aspen asked. “Does she give the orders?”

  “We agreed that she and Xinliu would lead us.”

  “But Xinliu is offline for the moment.”

  “You believe we should assist you because Xinliu would desire it.”

  “That’s right. And you’re the ship’s engineers. You three know all the specs.”

  “The ship ran itself. We only performed necessary maintenance.”

  Aspen pointed to the organic computer. “Isn’t this nec
essary maintenance? The ship can’t function without your help.”

  “Mei-Xing would be unhappy. And it might not work.”

  “But there’s a chance. Right?”

  “It is a far-fetched idea. I would not have thought of it myself. Neither would WT-934, who now wishes to be known as Chu Chan, and WT-935, who would like to be called Yu Huan. But it is intriguing.”

  Aspen looked at the two WT models. They continued working, seemingly ignoring the conversation around them, multi-tasking like only robots could. She shook the thought off.

  “Don’t you owe it to the ship to get it back online as soon as possible?” she said. “You said we only have a few hours. The longer we wait, the greater the chance that the neural network and the ship itself will die. Wouldn’t that be Xinliu’s first priority? Doesn’t your human-first programming demand that you do whatever is necessary to save us? Doesn’t decency demand it? Plus, why would Mei-Xing ban us from using computers if she wants us to get the ship back online?”

  “You raise valid points. We will discuss them with the others.”

  “No,” Aspen said. “If you mention them to the others, Mei-Xing will learn of your discussions and overrule you. She wants sole command. To do that, she needs us out of the way.”

  “Not only that,” said Addam. “She needs Xinliu out of the way.”

  “WT-909 is treating Xinliu. She allies herself with Xinliu most favorably.”

  “Perhaps,” Aspen said, “you should get someone else to help WT-909 with Xinliu, just in case Mei-Xing decides to take this opportunity to seize control.”

  “You think like a warrior,” Lulu said.

  “What about the organic material?”

  “Very well. Two of you will stay here with Chu Chan and Yu Huan and continue your work. One of you will accompany me to the hold to see if we can create a formula that will accelerate the ship’s recovery.”

  Aspen looked at Kammilee. “It was your idea. Do you want to go with Lulu to the hold?”

  Kammilee shook her head. “I think you might be better at finding the right formula. Besides, I’m better at the detail work of piecing together what remains of its brain.”

  “Okay. Keep at it. For now, focus on the largest remnants of the organic computer. Maybe if you can get enough aligned the ship can generate some small electrical impulses along the surface. I hope to be back in less than an hour.”

  Lulu said, “Mei-Xing may decide to check on us. She does not trust those of us who side with Xinliu. If you are missing, she may become upset.”

  “Then we’d better hurry,” Aspen said.

  She and Lulu slipped out the door and hustled down the corridor.

  ***

  They started with a quick inventory of the available organic stores; then Aspen and Lulu spent nearly an hour running experiments on electrical conductivity and the most efficient methods of bio-chemical dispersal. They needed a paste that would act as a sort of QuikHeal bandage for the organic computer. The problem was that virtually all the organic material in the hold worked to some degree, yet none of it worked at the speed they required.

  Without Lulu running calculations, it would have been an impossible task. Even with her computing speed, it was taking far longer than Aspen had hoped. They made little progress.

  After the twenty-third attempt, Lulu said, “This is not working. The results are worse than the last two formulas. Perhaps this will not be the solution.”

  “Show me the results of the last five formulas again,” Aspen said.

  Lulu sent the data to her implant. Aspen closed her eyes and studied it. As far as she could tell, Lulu was right. “The paste is working as a bandage,” she said, “but electrical conductivity remains the problem. It simply can’t accelerate the healing process quickly enough.”

  Lulu said, “We have tried all the plants that have fast-twitch systems, and in several combinations. But they still do not produce a rapid response.”

  “If we try the second-to-last formula, how long will it take for the paste to heal the ship’s organic computer?”

  “Approximately sixteen hours. You have less than five hours of life support. The ship’s computer has two or three hours.”

  “I think we have to try it anyway,” Aspen said. “We can’t keep testing forever.”

  “But this will not save you.”

  “True, but running experiments for the next hour won’t save us either. Maybe the paste will allow the organic computer to survive in some fashion. Let’s mix up a batch and get to the bridge.”

  As they mixed up enough paste to coat the ship’s organic computer, Aspen thought about how she would say goodbye to her friends, how she would comport herself when death arrived. Would she handle it with dignity? She thought of the vid she’d seen of Crazy Vigg, sacrificing himself on the Moon to save the lives of others—how he’d handled the situation so calmly. He’d always been that little bit off. Yet he’d ended his existence as a hero. Strange that she thought of him now instead of Rendela. She’d seen that vid too, Rendela’s heroic self-sacrifice captured by satellites. They’d both earned their place in history.

  How would she be remembered?

  When Lulu pronounced the paste ready, they headed for the bridge. “We’ve got something,” Aspen said as they entered.

  She stopped as she saw Mei-Xing holding a Las-rifle on Addam and Kammilee, who stood with their hands up.

  Chapter 37

  Jeremiah’s intent had been to go after Walter Tompkins next, but somehow Jay-Edgar managed to get a message through that the Global Communications CEO had fled to White Knight Security’s corporate headquarters, where he was bunkered down with Scott Wilson. So he changed course. The two remaining conspirators would have maximum security at White Knight: Elite Ops, local police, private security contractors and undoubtedly some nasty surprises.

  Caitlyn Hathaway had pleaded with him for half the trip, begging him to at least let her daughter Marishaw go, but he ignored her until she finally shut up. He ate another energy bar and drank another bottle of nutri-water, preparing for his next battle.

  As he approached White Knight’s facility, he saw the vast armament awaiting his arrival: four jet-copters, five Bullets, dozens of Elite Ops troopers, two tanks and eight police cars. The police began setting up cordons around the area while the Elite Ops took defensive positions and checked their weaponry. He could feel the increase in electro-magnetic power from the air.

  “Oh my God!” Caitlyn said. “You can’t land there. They’ll kill us all.”

  “They only want me,” he replied. “I have no desire to harm you or your daughter, but I need to get to the ground. Once we land, you stay with the jet-car until the police come.”

  “As soon as you open the door, they’ll fire at us.”

  “I don’t think so. They’ll want to be certain you’re safe. Your husband’s an important man. And I’ll move away from the car as fast as I can. You should be all right.”

  Caitlyn stared at him, a frown forming on her beautiful face. He hadn’t noticed before how attractive she was but it made sense. Hathaway was rich and powerful and that always attracted a certain kind of beauty.

  “Is it really worth all this?” she asked. “Dying just to get a few people to spill their secrets?”

  Jeremiah smiled as the jet-car landed atop the parking structure between two jet-copters. He didn’t think he’d mind dying now that Devereaux was gone. He’d felt a kinship to the man that he no longer felt toward the rest of the world, not even to Curtik and Sophie and Zora. They had been so different from other members of their race, and now he was more different still, more isolated. Without expecting an answer, he said, “Do you think it’s right for a few people to decide in secret the future of humanity?”

  He studied the forces aligned against him and took a deep breath, coming to terms with the fac
t that survival wasn’t a likely option. It was fitting that he should die on a mission, killed by the people he was trying to save. Opening the door, he sprang out.

  He tensed his muscles as he sprinted away, expecting laser fire with every step. Moving faster than he’d ever moved in his life, he covered the distance to the door in less than two seconds. Nothing happened.

  When he reached the door he realized that something was wrong with the world around him. The people waiting to attack him had practically frozen into statues. They moved at a glacial pace, as if time had split in two, allowing him to travel in a different stream of it. An Elite Ops trooper staring at the jet-car was still bringing his weapon to bear on the opening Jeremiah had left. The other troopers on the roof of the structure did likewise.

  It was as if, once he’d exited the vehicle, they’d suddenly begun moving in slow motion.

  “Hurry,” a voice spoke to him, male. It sounded like Ned, though that wasn’t possible. And it seemed to be coming from inside his head too but he couldn’t be certain. “I can’t hold them like this forever.”

  “Who are you?” Jeremiah asked.

  “A friend. Now go.”

  Jeremiah opened the door and entered the building. He sprinted down a hallway, sensing electro-magnetic forces all around him. An Elite Ops trooper stood in front of the elevator, looking his way, his Las-rifle aimed at the door, but he failed to fire until after Jeremiah darted into the stairway and headed up.

  He reached the top floor and pushed open the door, encountering another Elite Ops trooper, who was in the process of swinging his Las-rifle from the direction of the elevator toward the stairway.

  “You’re on your own now,” the voice said as the trooper’s movements suddenly sped up.

  Jeremiah ripped the weapon from the trooper’s hands and placed a hypo-pad on his neck between his helmet and torso armor. He caught the trooper and lowered him to the floor, at the same time feeling dust settle in his hair and burrow into his skin: tracking dust, making an undetected escape impossible. They failed to understand that escape was not his primary objective. All that mattered now was truth. Yes, he would try to get away, but only so he could determine if there were others involved in the conspiracy and what their roles might be.