Chapter 52 – Contingencies
Ashley’s Journal Monday Afternoon, July 27, 2308
That was pretty weird. I realized what I’d done, even as I was doing it. It looked like Geoff did too. It felt like I was plugging a fork into an electrical socket only the phone was the fork and my brain was the socket.
I’m not too thrilled with this little toy.
When I woke up, I was alone. I found Geoff upstairs in the kitchen, finishing the rest of the pancakes. At least he’s eating.
I can’t believe our parents are gone.
We don’t talk about it.
He seems okay.
I told him I was not happy about getting my brain fried and he actually laughed. The rest of the afternoon went pretty fast. It’s already dark. Geoff spent the day in Micronix-land while I did a complete second session; I stretched again and did my full practice.
We watched a movie and napped. It was lame, some secret agent chasing some super weapon. Shit, I’m living that movie. No wonder my dreams are all messed up. There was some kind of cable with knots that hurt to look at. The cables were made of light, and everything else was complete darkness. That’s what I get for sleeping in the middle of the day, as mom would say.
It’s after nine and Ross still hasn’t returned.
I cooked frozen pizza.
I haven’t touched the Micronix or the phone since this morning. They are sitting right where Geoff left them. He seems to have no difficulty accessing it without holding it.
I have zero interest in exploring the cyber-verse as represented by that black tool-of-vengeance. To me, it’s a knife; maybe a bit more fancy, but still and primarily, a knife, for cutting.
Midnight, Late Monday, Early Tuesday July 28, 2308
Inside the surveillance trailer, Ross ad King sat before panels of spectrometers and scanners.
King tapped on Ross’s arm as a cruiser approached the district. Ross magnified the image of the cruiser’s cockpit. Sure enough, it was Stanwood and Von Kalt.
“I’m going,” King said.
“Go,” Ross replied. “I’m going to call the secretary.”
“Patch me in,” King said and triggered the hatch. “I’m guessing he never got that meeting.” King activated his phase cam and vanished before he stepped out of the trailer. The hatch closed and Ross was alone.
“Mister Secretary,” he said, as the communications terminal came alive.
Croswell had given up his battle armor for the more conventional Washington uniform of three-piece, double-breasted terillium weave.
“What have you got Major?”
“The First Sergeant is inbound on our tangos, let me patch him in.” Ross looped in King’s codec; he accepted the link. A third window appeared on Ross’s terminal as King patched in his helmet camera.
“First Sergeant?” Croswell asked.
“Yes, Sir,” King answered, without actually speaking.
King had entered the expansive parking structure. He slowly approached the government vehicle from just a couple of feet above walking height.
On the screen, Stanwood and Von Kalt had just docked and were exiting the vehicle.
King stayed with them, and by proxy, so did Ross and Croswell.
Both Ross and Croswell were amazed. The massive First Sergeant moved himself into tiny spaces and stayed with his prey flawlessly. He never made a sound, never obstructed an elbow, a knee or a heel. It was like Magic.
In less than three minutes, King had followed Stanwood and Croswell as they were greeted by Bergstrom’s staff and led to his not-so impenetrable lair.
While waiting in the antechamber, King inquired as to his firing parameters and Croswell replied, “Under no circumstances. This is reconnaissance only.”
“Understooooood,” King replied, sounding every bit like a sullen teenager who’s just been told he cannot throw a party while the parents are out for the evening.
Finally Stanwood, Von Kalt and the unseen specter hanging over their shoulders, were ushered into a massive hall.
The room looked as though it hadn’t been used in a considerable length of time. Cedric entered from behind and hit the light switches.
Stanwood and Von Kat turned on their heels while King quickly went inverted. In his trailer, Ross activated the image compensator and rotated the signal back to something not so nausea inducing.
“Intelligence Director Stanwood, I presume?” A rather small man, Dr. Bergstrom walked toward them and extended his hand to Stanwood, completely ignoring Von Kalt, but only for a moment.
Even before he reached Stanwood, his attention turned to Von Kalt and he came to a dead stop.
“Who are you?” Bergstrom asked.
Before Von Kalt could answer, Bergstrom screamed, “NO!
“I don’t want to know, don’t tell me!” Bergstrom turned to Stanwood. “Please ask him to wait outside.”
“What?” Stanwood asked.
“Ask him to wait outside, please!”
Stanwood nodded to Von Kalt, who pursed his lips, but turned and left the hall without a word.
“Go back to the goddamn car, please!” Bergstrom yelled after him.
King righted himself, hanging behind the intelligence director, just a few inches above the floor.
“So…” Stanwood said
Ross had returned his monitor to the natural setting, once King had tired of his handstand. Now he and Croswell watched as King practiced his silent draw. The first sergeant smoothly, but silently drew his side arm and took a bead on the back of Stanwood’s skull, over and over again.
Finally Croswell spoke up, “Knock it off, Steve.”
King laughed over their comm. link, but remained silent as Bergstrom and Stanwood had their little stare down.
“It’s clear that Fox’s technology has made it’s way to you, So you should understand my commitment to this sentiment when I tell you, You have to Give to Get. Now, don’t waste my time.”
“What’s your price?” Stanwood asked.
“Your partner is carrying one of Fox’s amplifiers.”
“It’s his funeral,” Stanwood said.
“I’m glad we understand each other.” Dr. Bergstrom looked into Stanwood’s eyes. “You’ve never been exposed.”
“Do you think I’d be here now if I had been?”
“No, I wasn’t asking. I mean it as a statement. I can tell, just looking at you. You know what else I can tell? You’ve never pulled a trigger.”
“What?” Stanwood asked.
“Even during your practical, you didn’t, did you?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Stanwood said.
“Like what,” Cedric asked. “Explain to me how it is that the Director of National Intelligence has never pulled the trigger. I tell you what. You convince me how you got out of the practical and I’ll hear you out about the rest of this nonsense.”
“I’ve never told anyone this. But, it was… I knew her. This girl I went to school with, she’d been out drinking and got into an accident. The other driver died, she was just a young mom. It wouldn’t have been a capital case, except the car had been reported stolen. Jessica didn’t know, it belonged to the boyfriend of one of the other girls and she’d taken it without saying anything. He’d called the cops before he realized that the girls were just out on a liquor run.
“They arrested her for a homicide committed in the commission of a felony. It was an open and shut case. The jury returned a unanimous guilty verdict and she was remanded to the Hall of Justice.
“I didn’t know she was going to be there. I swore my oaths of allegiance, served on my first jury and marched over to the handgun-training course.
“I went in there totally committed to executing a convict. I’d already been accepted into the officer’s program for at Williamsburg and so going into the practical, I had my mind made up. I was going to collect my executioner’s fee and spend it getting drunk as hell.
“Instead I walked in and saw Jessica.
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“She recognized me and started crying. I already had the light nine in my hand, I hadn’t charged it, but I was fucking holding it. I moved to walk past her and she called me by name.
“I didn’t think she even knew my name. I don’t think she’d ever said it before.
“She screamed, “Joseph, No!” I looked over to her and I couldn’t leave. As I walked over to her, she was sobbing, “Please, please, please.”
I think I had been in love with this girl, for like forever. But nothing ever came of it. She liked this other guy in my class.”
Stanwood laughed.
“Anyhow, as I walked up to her, I realized I was holding the gun. I holstered it, slid my newly minted ID through the slot and hit that big green clemency button.
“She thanked me about a thousand times, but I never said a word. She got carted off for a life of hard labor on the farms, but it beats a bullet in the head. I couldn’t let that happen to her.
“You could see all the closed tubes, that opaque frosted panel, with the darkness splashed across it, or just dark inside.
“I remember, as we left, it was my Dad who sponsored me… As we left, he was crying. He was really impressed. We were always really close after that. I didn’t see that coming either.
“Anyhow, last week I put a bullet through the head of the guy Jessie always liked more than me. A guy I have known all my life. Don’t tell me you know anything about me, about me pulling a trigger. Because right now, if you don’t help me find this man’s children, you are going to be the next person I put a bullet into.”
“Who might this guy be?” Bergstrom asked. “Miller mentioned something about enemies of enemies and new friends.”
“His name is Andrew Fox.”
“Mm, hmm. And then his children… A daughter, named Astral?”
“Ashley.”
“That’s pretty goddamn close.”
“I know you know about Fox. I know you’ve had dealings with him before.”
“You don’t know shit, son.”
“I know that I killed him. And I know that I can kill you.”
“But why come to me? She’s a twelve-year-old girl. Why can’t you handle her? Are you an idiot? What’s your problem?”
“Dr. Bergstrom, when Senator Miller approved your Wolf Pack program, I was his associate. I wrote all his correspondence. His fingers never even touched a keyboard while I worked for him. I am now the Director of National Intelligence. I know everything there is to know about you. You are going to help me, or I will dismantle your life, one locked door at a time.”
“You know everything, huh? Tell me something, shit-for-brains, did you watch the 3AM Trials? Did you see what She did to those soldiers? She wasn’t much older than twelve when she did that.”
“What do you know about it?” Stanwood asked.
“Enough to know better than to even try and help you. I mean that was a cute story, and now I heard you out, even with your silly little threat there at the end, but you’d better have something of equal or greater value if you want access to these guys.”
Dr. Bergstrom had approached a second set of switches and now illuminated the rest of the massive hall. Almost a dozen massive cyber suits stood in various stages of completion.
“Only about half of them are operational, but if you’ve got to crack an especially hard nut, this is the tool you want.”
“Name your price,” Stanwood said.
“My price… First, my Conditions are that I want a support squad for every suit we activate. These things look tough, but concentrated fire is a problem for anyone, so I want a squad of bullet catchers for support and distraction on any incursion into enemy territory.
“Second, I have a question… What is preventing the return of Fox’s Centaur Cyber-tanks?”
“They are locked out of orbit. We have a magnetic quarantine in place. If they tried to get in, we would know, and we will stop them. It was the mandate that won Conway the election.”
Cedric raised a hand, “So then we are going up against the Black Willow Gun Trees. We can only go in force. Meaning, when it comes to the Wolf Pack, I only have four pilots. That means, you and your ass hat out there in the car will have to pilot two of the suits. I’m not sending four, if they could be six. If you want this, you must take it yourself.”
“Do we need training?” Stanwood asked.
“You’ll learn fast or you’ll die.” Cedric smiled.
“Encouraging.”
“Now, my price.” Cedric raised his hand. “You said children, plural?”
“Yes, a boy and a girl,” Stanwood answered.
“My price then, dead or alive, I want significant access to their DNA and dead or alive, I want The Girl.”
“That’s all?” Stanwood asked, shocked and astonished.
“That’s all,” Bergstrom answered.
“Fine, you have a deal, Doctor.” Stanwood realized he actually didn’t care. Suddenly the entire adventure had lost its allure. Stanwood didn’t want to have anything to do with Bergstrom. He felt dirty just standing in the man’s presence. He’d agree to anything, just to leave this space. “How soon can we get started?” Stanwood asked.
“I need forty-eight hours, more or less,” Dr. Bergstrom replied.
“That’s fine. I’ve hardly slept in three days.”
Filled with revulsion, Stanwood handed Bergstrom his card. “I’ll be expecting your call.”
King was invisibly holding his weapon on the two men and switching his aim from one to the next and back again.
Croswell interrupted him. “First Sergeant, I want you to follow the director back to his car and spray everything you see along the way with the micro-transmitters. Acknowledge.”
“Copy, yes, sir,” King replied over the thought link, and holstered his pistol to pull out the aforementioned transmitter spray.