by Pete Molina
***
The door became transparent and a person sized opening appeared. Miraculously, no air spewed forth as it happened.
“Good work,” Madison said, clapping Halewell on the back.
“It wasn’t me. I hadn’t even accessed the door’s system yet,” Halewell responded, sounded puzzled.
“Come on in,” a voice came over the general com frequency. “Not much point in resistance now.”
Dawson took a step forward, but Madison blocked his path. “It’s a trap, Agent Dawson.”
“I know, but we have to go in.”
“Fire an EMP charge in there,” she ordered.
“Belay that order,” Dawson said. “We’re going in. We don’t want to damage the equipment in there. It looks like a central command room, and I’d like to get be able to get at it.”
“Marines, move out. Disable anything that moves,” she ordered.
The Marines poured through the doorway. Dawson followed behind them. The Marines were cloaked, but they glowed red as the fog in the room made sure that they couldn’t hide. Dawson saw the large screens and the consoles but then across the room he saw them, four of them. He recognized them all.
“Sam 6.7, you’re under arrest. Come peacefully with us,” Dawson said over the general com frequency.
The Marines were already moving towards the three Newbies and the Martian with their weapons drawn. The Marines deactivated their camouflage and pointed their weapons menacingly. Dawson began to walk up towards them.
“I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced,” Dawson said with the glow of triumph in his voice. “I’m Special Agent Jim Dawson, with the FBI. You are all under arrest.”
Sam 6.7 stepped forward in response to Dawson’s statement but the suited figures with guns gestured for him to stop. “Well, Agent Dawson, you’ve come a long way for me. Now why am I under arrest?”
“You made the virus that killed three thousand. Are you going to deny it?” Dawson asked.
“Yes, I haven’t killed any one. My virus simply removed the old backups of my colleagues and myself so your government couldn’t restore them for any reason. The deaths are not on my hands,” Sam 6.7 spoke.
“He’s right, Dawson,” Terra confirmed. “The code for the virus is here. It’s not designed to delete any noncorporeal versions. Damon Harding did that one.”
“What are you talking about?” Dawson turned to Terra. “He’s just trying to pull the wool over your eyes. You can’t be serious. Besides there are other charges. Like the possession of somewhere near a hundred kilograms of antimatter that you’re planning to use as a weapon of mass destruction and theft of unlimited assemblers from the LNRC.”
“Well, those two are certainly true, Sam 6.7 admitted. “Except for the part about the weapon of mass destruction. That’s not what the stuff is for.”
“And what is it for then?” Dawson noticed that Sam 6.7 looked a little strange but couldn’t put his finger on just what the problem was. Something fishy was definitely going.
“To power an interstellar starship,” Sam 6.7 said, with a great degree of earnestness.
Dawson just stared at him dumbfounded. “You have to think I’m an idiot to spin stories like that,” Dawson said.
“No it’s true. A number of others and I are leaving this solar system. We’re tired of this one and of you Primers.”
“Look, NEWBIE!!! You’re not going anywhere, and as far as I’m concerned they can level Denver and every one in it,” Dawson said vehemently. “You’re not going anywhere and neither are your friends. I know you’ve got some new tricks up your sleeve. We saw that ship, but they’re not going to help you now.”
“Oh, you want tricks,” Sam 6.7 said and disappeared.
The Marines grabbed Terra, Jeff, and Sam, and the others looked around quickly until they saw Sam 6.7 standing in the middle of the room. Dawson swiveled around to stare at him.
“Get him,” Dawson ordered the Marines.
They moved quickly using the augmented speed provided by their suits to get to where Sam 6.7 was now located. When they arrived, he disappeared again to appear even farther away. Dawson could hear Terra and Jeff laughing, but Sam 23.1 was strangely quiet. The Marines chased after him again, but the figure vanished once more to appear right by Dawson. One of the Marine that had stayed to guard the others reached out to grab him but his hand passed through the figure.
“Haven’t you figured it out by now, Agent Dawson? I’m not really here at the moment. This is just a fog projection.”
“You’re nearby somewhere. You couldn’t control this puppet if you weren’t,” Dawson said, the rage showing in his face for having been tricked. “Give me your pistol,” Dawson ordered one of the other Marines who had just returned. He was handed a pistol, which he then pointed at Jeff.
“If you’re not in this room in five minutes, Mr. Hughes here gets a mouthful, and I know personally that he has no version left in the restoration facility,” Dawson threatened. “If that doesn’t convince you, the other two will follow.”
“Not very sporting of you Agent Dawson,” the projection taunted. “That’s quite a threat against someone who allegedly has a hundred kilos of antimatter at his disposal. If you fire on them, the whole place will be nothing but space dust.”
“And kill your own friends…and yourself…I don’t think so,” Dawson said. Without another word he squeezed the trigger, and Jeff staggered backwards falling to the ground. Terra and Sam 23.1 struggled towards their friend, expecting the worst, but discovered to their relief that he had only been hit in the shoulder.
“I’m okay,” Jeff gasped to reassure them, fighting the pain.
“Couldn’t do it could you?” Sam 23.1 looked up at Dawson. I never thought of you as a killer, not like Damon Harding.”
The comment from Sam reminded Dawson that he would still have to answer to Damon Harding. Sam was right. Dawson knew he couldn’t kill anyone, not in cold blood, not when he knew there was no backup. But he could use them to force Sam 6.7’s hand if he were to accomplish his high priority mission.
“No, I couldn’t do that to Mr. Hughes-that would be murder,” Dawson pointed the gun at Terra, “but I can inflict a great amount of pain. As long as they’re alive, I can still back them up on the Powel.” Dawson pulled the trigger again, this time hitting Terra in the leg. “Surrender now and I promise I’ll back them up. Jeff and Terra may still be alive now, but they’re losing a lot of blood. I doubt they’ll survive for long.”
“Now you’re breaking your own laws, Agent Dawson,” Sam 6.7 said sadly.
“Bending perhaps, but no one will care when they know what you’ve done and what you’re capable of doing. Come here now and leave with me peaceably or their deaths will be by your hands.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that. But you’ve already given me time for what I needed to do,” Sam 6.7 said.
“What?” Dawson asked.
“I simply needed time to get my ship far enough away to keep it from being damaged in the explosion. I hope you’ve had a recent backup as my friends have had. If you follow standard Fleet protocols, you have nothing to worry about,” Sam said with a smile. “Your captain has already launched the buoy which should now be safely out of the way. Sorry to have deceived you, Agent Dawson. I don’t think we’ll be meeting again.”
The projection flickered and was gone. Dawson howled angrily and then fired a shot at the space the projection had occupied moments ago.
“Get back here, Storm!!! I’ll kill them all. You don’t think I know when you’re bluffing,” he threatened, but Sam 6.7 knew now that he wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t let them die either despite his earlier threat.
Sam 23.1 moved to grab Terra who was now lying on the floor in great pain holding her leg with her hands.
“He’s not bluffing,” Sam 23.1 said.
“How do you know that?”
“I wouldn’t be,” Sam 23.1 replied. Then the room exploded making the whole conversation moot.
