Patrick fired up his prototype—which was as exciting as turning on a tablet. “Any interference, Captain?”
“None. Good to go?” asked the pilot.
Patrick narrowed his eyes as he read the Eye-Spy. He found a positive signal, eight miles east on his grid overlay. “Yes, but take us to sector nine instead.” He gave Captain Velez the long/lat coordinates.
“Easy-peasy.” Velez spoke to the tower and took the helicopter skyward.
Caliban’s eyebrows shot up. “Already? And linked to GPS?”
He showed Caliban and Simmons the screen that pinpointed the bogey. Patrick wondered what to tell them if their target appeared invisible.
The Sikorsky landed in a snow-covered field near the edge of a hardwood forest. Powdered snow clouded the air, uncovering remnants of corn stalk nubs. The nearest house stood half a mile away. As the rotors slowed, they sat in copter.
“Close enough?” Captain Velez asked through the microphone.
“Yes.” Patrick said. “Looks like it’s about fifty yards into the woods.” The signal began to blink on and off. That’s odd.
“Shall we go see, or do we need back-up?” Velez asked.
Caliban broke in. “Let’s go see. Captain you should wait here in case there’s trouble. You might want to call in our location.”
“And if there is unexploded ordinance?” Velez turned to look at Patrick.
“Then we won’t touch anything and come right back,” Patrick said. “Dr. Caliban, the Captain brings up a good point. Why don’t you all stay here as well, and I’ll take a quick look and report back.”
Caliban squirmed in his seat. “That may be wise.”
“I’ll go too,” Simmons said. “I’ve got your back.”
Caliban nodded slowly. “Of course.” The rotors stopped turning.
Damn. “Let’s go then.” Patrick took off his headgear and climbed out. Simmons seemed eager and Patrick realized he knew so little about the man. Not sure what they would find in the woods, he hoped Simmons followed his lead and would not get to close to the bogey.
Patrick walked through the cornfield, over a snowdrift, and into the woods. Simmons followed a few yards behind him. The Eye-Spy led them over a frozen stream, around fallen trees, and past the stingy remnants of an old treehouse. They were close.
“Look,” Simmons said, pointing up and to the right where a damaged limb from a tall beech tree hung like a broken arm. “This is where it came through.” Simmons ran ahead of Patrick.
“Hold up, Don. Careful where you step. Think minefield.”
“Okay.” Simmons slowed to a stop and stared at the base of a tree.
Patrick caught up and froze. A small aircraft drone with broken wings lay next to a thick oak, and then it disappeared. A few sparks later it reappeared.
“Holy shit,” Simmons breathed. His face looked raw from the cold.
Damn. “Stay there.” Patrick walked around the side of the craft where a small cargo door had broken open during the crash. Moving closer to the compartment, he saw a small dish antenna and what looked like a liquid hydrogen cooling tank. Just like the one I used for me teleportation beacon. This is it! Patrick felt his chest tighten as Simmons’ footsteps crunched through the snow behind him.
“Step aside, Dr. McDugan.” Simmons stared at the beacon, and dipped his right hand into his thick overcoat.
Did Simmons have a gun? Patrick moved back, keeping Simmons in sight. “Don. What’re you doin’?”
“Saving our world.” He pulled a small metal canister the size of a hockey puck from his pocket and attached it to the beacon with a metallic click. From his left pocket, he pulled out a detonator. “Quick, behind the beech tree.” Simmons ran toward him, grabbed the back of his coat and propelled him to the hard ground behind the tree. Simmons pressed the button. “Fire in the hole.” Nothing happened. “Fuck.”
Patrick, still on his side, peeked around the tree. The bogey had disappeared, but then rematerialized. “Hit it again.” Patrick ducked his head.
“WHUMMMP!”
Their ears rang. Snow, sticks, and metal debris rained down on their position. Patrick crawled to his feet.
Simmons stood, put the detonation radio back in his pocket, and surveyed the damage. Small pieces of metal and wire lay scattered in the snow. “Mission accomplished.”
“You surprised me, Don. You did the right thing. If that beacon had been repaired, Erde could have invaded through a portal immediately. Thank you.”
“Thank Agent Miller. I’m following his orders.” Simmons looked grim.
“Patrick? Don? Are you two okay?” Caliban called from fifty yards away. Captain Velez stood at his side.
“We’re okay.” Patrick called back.
“What happened?”
“We found the bogey, or at least what was left of an Erdian drone.” Patrick looked briefly at Simmons who nodded for him to continue. “But as we approached, we heard a whirring noise, and ran for cover. A self-destruct sensor must have activated. We were lucky.”
Simmons sighed. “Very lucky. Glad I wore two pairs of underwear.”
Caliban shook his head. “Damn it. This isn’t funny.” The S&T director scrunched his face at Simmons and then spoke to Patrick. “I’m glad no one was hurt, but we needed to salvage that equipment. It would’ve helped us win this war.”
“Let’s head back to the chopper,” Velez said. “I’ll call in the ordinance team. No use for us to poke around that thing ourselves.”
As they trudged out of the woods, Patrick patted Dr. Simmons on the back.
Back in the office, the S&T Director summoned Patrick to the boardroom. As Patrick entered the room, Dr. Caliban’s wrinkled his noise as if the air smelled foul.
“We should have never lost that bogey today.” Caliban pointed him to a chair. “We went about it all wrong. I never should have allowed you to go in without the ordinance team. Now I have a big bucket of nothing to show for this.”
“C’mon, Phylo. We’re all safer without Erde’s bogey and portal beacon.” Patrick reminded him.
“Are we? What if there’re more drones out there? What if a new wave of metal monsters attacks New York City tomorrow? We know so little about them.”
Patrick held up his left hand, palm out. “We’re still learnin’ about their robotics and weaponry. We can detect and locate intruders.”
“Yes, about that,” Caliban sniffed. “Simmons told me he had no part in the research or development of your prototype detector. He doesn’t even understand how it works.”
Patrick shrugged. “I put a lot of time after hours on the project.”
“Yet your office departure times don’t reflect that. Working in your cellar again?”
“Sometimes. You know our original agreement. I promised to help you find the bogey, but I won’t build another portal beacon, or anything else that would allow the Erdians to invade our world.”
“You said ‘build,’ but I think you meant ‘share.’ You’re holding back critical information and I don’t appreciate your secrecy with me, or how you managed to destroy the bogey today. You put me on the fucking hot seat with the Department.”
“Hold up, Phylo. We can talk this through,” he said.
Caliban shook his head. “It’s too late for that. I’ve asked DOD to investigate today’s cluster-fuck and gather forensic evidence from the explosion.” Caliban took several breaths. “I am ordering you to put the schematics and a working detector in my hand by tomorrow close of business.”
Patrick’s jaw tightened. He rose to leave. “Anythin’ else?”
Caliban glared back. “Our auditors found a discrepancy with the robot inventory. Do you know anything about our missing model #7?”
Patrick tilted his head. “I’ve not seen the audit, nor a seventh model in our lab. Could you share the audit documentation with me?”
“Yes. Ask Simmons for a copy.” Caliban took a breath and turned his back to check his e-mail. “You may go.”
Patrick drove home after a long day, but at least he and his phase detector had found the bogey. Earth was one big step safer without Erde’s beacon. And though Simmons had proven to be an unexpected ally, Patrick was surprised the man worked for Agent Miller.
At some point, the phase detector may become an essential part of our defense, but how could he tell Caliban, or Miller, about Amo and the microprocessor? Or time travel? Caliban had given him until tomorrow evening to supply the phase detector schematics and the working prototype. Hmmm. A lot can happen if you have the time . . .
Chapter 8
The frigid Terran wind beat against Betsy and Albert’s backs as they stepped into the Commonwealth outpatient clinic. The warm waiting room smelled like fresh flowers, even though the bouquet on a corner table looked artificial. Soothing instrumental music flowed from overhead speakers.
Betsy scanned the waiting room. Within seconds, her aging cranial implant counted sixteen patients, forty-two magazines, and nine pens in the coffee cup near the receptionist. Eleven patients appeared close to her age and may need upgrades like herself. She estimated the cost of implant replacement for thirteen patients could range between $158,550 and $359,000 if— Pain lanced through her temple and her vision blurred. Stop.
Her migraines had grown worse. She took three deep breaths and tried to clear her mind. This will be over as soon as they replace my implant. Forcing a smile, she patted Albert on the hand. “Dear, I’m so glad you’re here today. As busy as you’ve been, I didn’t expect you to come with me. You can be such a sweetheart at times.”
“I wouldn’t miss this, Darling.” He smiled at her.
Albert looked so much like Patrick when he smiled. Except Patrick’s laugh lines crinkled around his eyes. I wish I could stop thinking about him. God forgive me.
“Mrs. Dugan,” an administrative assistant called over the intercom. “Please come to station three.”
“You go ahead, dear.” Albert peeked at his watch. “See you soon.”
Betsy went inside the third room. The assistant scanned her wrist tattoo and asked her to complete the pre-op paperwork.
“Do you need my insurance card?”
“No, we have it on file. Your procedure is covered by the Commonwealth today as part of an ongoing research study.”
“I didn’t know that. What kind of study?”
The assistant shuffled through the paperwork. “Upgraded version . . . beta test . . . advanced circuitry. Wow, you must know somebody important to get this tech.”
An orderly stepped into the room. “Dr. Cooper is ready for you now.”
“Oh.” Betsy stood and looked through the window to the waiting room. Where had Albert gone?
“Right this way ma’am.” The orderly had a small nick on his chin surrounded by a spot of dried blood.
She followed him to pre-op, dressed in a paper gown behind the curtain, and tried to relax as the orderly hooked her to a monitor and IV. “Are you going to put me under?” She frowned.
“The anesthetist will explain. Don’t worry. You won’t feel any pain.”
The sharp smell of disinfectant met her as the orderly wheeled her into OP room #6. “Dr. Cooper will be in shortly.” Betsy squinted at the bright overhead light.
A masked woman in blue scrubs entered the operating room. “Good morning, Betsy, I am Blanche, your anesthetist. I will be administering a sedative to dampen the pain.” Blanche poked a syringe into the IV. “You’ll stay awake, but will be unable to move or feel anything during the extraction. I’ll then put you under for the insertion. It seems to work better that way. We’ll monitor your vitals throughout.”
Betsy’s body tingled. She tried to say thank you, but her lips wouldn’t move. Two men in green surgical scrubs, hats, and masks entered the room. “Hello, Mrs. Dugan,” Dr. Cooper said as he took her hand. “We have a surprise guest this morning. Dr. Dugan will assist me today.”
Albert? Why didn’t he tell me?
“Hello, sweetheart.” Albert cooed. “Surprise.”
No smile wrinkles surrounded Albert’s hard angry eyes. He looked as if he despised her. Oh my God. He knows about Patrick. She tried to speak, raise her hand, or just roll out of the bed, but only her eyes moved.
Dr. Cooper let go of her hand and held up a small ceramic capsule. “This new implant will clear up those migraines and improve your memory functions times one hundred. You won’t need a checkbook, calendar, schedule, or calculator. You’ll have it all right up here.” He tapped the side of his head. “This little baby is amazing.” He laid the tiny implant on a cloth-covered tray next to the stainless steel instruments.
“We’re going to shave a small patch of your hair, and then drill a tiny hole in your skull to extract the implant. You won’t feel a thing.”
Betsy’s eyes widened as Dr. Cooper moved a razor toward her head. Outside of Cooper’s view, Albert pulled a ceramic capsule from the shirt pocket of his scrubs. He held it up to the light briefly and she saw how similar it looked to the implant lying on the cloth-covered tray.
“We’re ready to start the extraction,” Dr. Cooper said. “Everything is going smoothly.”
As Dr. Cooper picked up the drill, Albert switched her implant on the tray with the one he’d fished from his pocket. No one else had noticed the exchange, as the drill whirred into her skull. Albert’s eyes crinkled at the edges, but he bore the look of a madman.
She mustered every bit of her strength to slap the malignant look from his face, but couldn’t move. Oh, Albert. What have you done?
“Okay, Mrs. Dugan, we’ve taken the old one out and prepared a new insertion site for the replacement. It’s already been programmed with a set of new algorithms, courtesy of the Commonwealth. We’ll put you under now to finalize and test our connection. When you wake you will feel like a new woman.”
Her heart contracted as she watched Dr. Cooper pick up Albert’s chip. No, no, nooooo! Stop. I don’t want this. Her lips, despite her terror, remained silent and beyond her control. Albert walked over and held her hand, but she could not feel the contact. Tears clouded her vision. The light faded as she slid down a deep dark hole.
Albert poured himself a tall scotch, took a sip, and sat in his living room near a window to soak up the late afternoon sunshine. Betsy had been admitted to Holy Redeemer for observation after receiving her new implant. There’d been some unexpected cranial bleeding, but she was doing fine and sleeping. He made sure she had the best care the Commonwealth could offer before he went home. He planned to visit her first thing in the morning.
Anger and uncertainty seeped into his mind when he thought of Patrick. Killing his philandering doppelganger would settle the score, yet it may be far too permanent. A pity they had worked so well together. His own genius and Patrick’s mechanical engineering skills dovetailed at the master level. Aggravation aside, how much more of the universe could they unravel before he terminated their working partnership?
Albert sighed and shook his head. Trust, and whatever naiveté he’d had left in his heart, had been crushed. He’d assumed Betsy was faithful and Patrick was his friend. He’d even left Patrick a final note months ago when he and his wife’s lives were in danger—Patrick, if you’ve gotten this far, I may be dead or captured. If so, please take Betsy to Earth, and destroy the beacon. Use my solar chip to start a new life and a better world. I trust you in this, my friend. God help us all.
Albert had once put Betsy’s safety into Patrick’s hands last summer while the CSD and FBI held him captive, but the outcome had proved unexpected. He’d underestimated Patrick’s longing for his deceased wife. How dare he? The man cared too much for her, but how had the bonding become mutual? Had he misjudged his wife’s loneliness? He never thought she’d be less than faithful, let alone sneak off to visit Patrick. How dare she!
His hands squeezed his temples as if he could force the thoughts from his mind. It was too late to prevent their sinfulness, but he could reset his relationship with
his wife. Emotional love had proven far too erratic, but the new implant would help.
His mind replayed the distasteful thought of his wife in bed with Patrick. He pictured a sharp razor drawn slow and deep across his doppelganger’s carotid artery. It’s time I visited my lab partner. Albert called Patrick via the medallion, and offered to visit earth-side. They both agreed. Each had something they wanted to discuss.
“Can’t say much until I arrive,” Albert apologized via the p-medallion as his voice crossed from Terra to Earth on a scrambled frequency.
“I understand,” said Patrick. “Come over. I have a safe room where we can talk.”
Safe? We shall see. “Good. I’ll be over around six.”
“Bring Miss Betsy if you wish. She might enjoy the visit.”
Albert’s face flushed. He tapped the folded straight razor in his shirt pocket. “Just me this time.”
Albert crossed through a portal to Earth and Patrick’s cellar.
“Ah, there you are.” Patrick shook hands with his doppelganger. “Been awhile.”
“Maybe too long.” Albert said in a dry tone.
“Come this way. I have a secret to share with you.” Patrick walked back toward the far wall and pushed a small red button near the furnace. “Follow me.” Patrick walked through the concrete wall.
Albert’s eyes opened wide. No visible portal? He stepped through without any resistance into a brightly lit laboratory. White walls and white boards filled with equations greeted him. He couldn’t help but study the diagrams in an effort to process their logic and relevance. “You’ve been busy.”
“Yes. Been workin’ long hours and it’s paid off.” Patrick pointed his friend to a chair then poured two Baileys with ice. “Cigar?”
Albert accepted the drink and sipped. “I thought you didn’t smoke.”
“Don’t. Saved this for you.” Patrick handed him the brown cigar.
“Having a baby or something?” Albert bit off the end of the stogy, spit it on the floor then lit up.
“Look around,” Patrick said. “This is my baby.”
Sliptime Page 6
