Part 2
Escaping Paradise
You can see, but you can't see death But you can now sense his breath. Coming closer you can feel You now know death is real. -Whispers on the Breeze
Knowledge is power, we have all heard that little piece of wisdom. But when you learn something scary, can you unlearn what you know already? -Whispers on the Breeze
Run, if they can't find you. Run, till you can run no more. Run, just hope that when you stop, You have run far enough. -Whispers on the Breeze
Confused, I walk through my house. I had another dream where I am trapped in the gray room with the sphere in the middle. But I wouldn't call it a dream. I don't really know what it is, but it scares me to death. Those."dreams" are very strange. Normally, when I drink myself into a drunken stupor, I don't revisit the battles I've been in. But last night I was drunk out of my mind and I still had that strange "dream." All I remember is seeing the sphere and hearing a few scattered words flash through my mind although I now they didn't come out of my mouth and there was nobody else in the room. I can remember the sound of those words. They were in a voice I feel I should know. "Help.Mo.y." I remember distinctively. But the words that stick out the strongest I'll remember until the day I die. Not because of their content, but because of the emotion they were spoken in. "They'll.k-kill me, .help." They were spoken in a voice so fraught with emotional agony and mental torment that they broke my heart, and I woke up crying. I want nothing more than to help that person that is in that place. But I don't know where to begin. I am so confused.
Chris no longer sees the darkness that encompasses him. He sees pictures in front of his eyes where the empty blackness should be. They are bad pictures. People getting killed, blood, so much blood. He would give anything to see the blackness again.
"Where are we going Dad?" Helen asked as she walked out of the school. Paul could not think of anything to tell her. He could tell her the truth. Assassins are hunting us and they want to kill us. Like he was going to tell her that. "What is it Dad?" Helen asked again. "Just wait." Paul told her. Helen climbed into the backseat. Paul followed her. She looked at the man in the driver's seat. "Mommy, who's that man?" She said with a ring of alarm in her voice. "This is Gary Wallace. He's a.doctor." Emily told her. "Why is there a doctor here?" Helen said perplexed by the situation. "Listen, sweetie. We need to tell you something, and you may not like it." Paul said to her. "Am I sick or something?" She said with a little bit of fear in her voice. "Oh, no, nothing like that. Do you remember the men that came to our house dressed in the black suits?" Paul said trying to ease her into the revelation. "Yes." "Well those men kidnapped Chris. Mr. Wallace here knows where they are keeping him and he's going to help us get him back." "Oh. What's so bad about that?" Helen said. Paul nor Emily could think of anything to say that would answer Helen's questions. Even though Helen didn't completely understand how dire the situation was, Paul didn't want to tell her anymore. "Buckle up. We may have to go just a little fast." Gary said staring at the approaching vehicles in the rear view window.
Louis knocked on Elise's door. He looked at his watch, eight minutes till seven. He liked being early for everything. The door opened, Elise stood there looking like a goddess in a dark blue blouse and black velvet skirt. A pair of diamond earrings in each ear accentuated the pure beauty of her face. He was dressed in the nicest clothes he had. A pair of light brown khakis and a button down dress shirt. And for some reason he felt like he was underdressed. "Louis!" She sounded surprised. She opened the door entirely and stepped to the side. "Come on in." Louis stepped across the threshold and Elise closed the door. He turned to her and said, "Traditionally, this is where I would tell you have a nice place, hand you a bouquet of flowers, and tell you how beautiful you look. But saying your place is nice is an understatement and I don't have any flowers. So I'll skip to the end. You look absolutely gorgeous." "Why, thank you." She said blushing slightly. Even though all of the cabins were exactly the same, Elise keeps hers clean. The cabins were mainly one room that contained a bed, a holovision set, a dining table, and a small kitchen. Soft beige carpeting except by the kitchen area where it changed abruptly into ceramic tile covered the floor. Which was identical in design to every other cabin on the ship. Whenever there was a mission that required the use of the Enterprises, the personal used the same room every time. It was a time saver. It would take a long time for everybody to be assigned a new room with each excursion. And it saved time from having the people pack and unpack their belongings on each mission. A pleasant scent of pine air freshener clung to the air. The fragrance seemed to untie the knots that entwined themselves in Louis' stomach. Louis relaxed. "Do you like steak?" Elise inquired. She walked towards the oven, and assured herself that the food was not turning Cajun. "Yes. Is that what we're having?" "Yep. How do take it?" She asked bending over, testing how far they had cooked through. "Medium well." Louis stood ten feet behind her, admiring the shapeliness of her body. "Good, then they'll be done at the same time." She closed the oven and stood erect. "Would you like to sit down?" She motioned to the cushioned chairs at the dining table. Louis moved to the seats where Elise was headed. He pulled a chair out for her and gestured for her to sit. She smiled sweetly, and sat. Louis pushed her chair in and walked around the small table and sat opposite Elise. The table was only designed for two people to sit at, because of that Louis was only a mere three feet away from Elise. He enjoyed this closeness. He could almost feel the smoothness of her skin, almost taste her luscious lips, almost. His thoughts began to trail away from reality. His gaze was fixed on her beautiful green eyes. "Louis?" Elise said. Louis snapped out of his daze. "Did you say something?" "Do you like music?" She repeated the question he didn't hear. "Yeah." She stood and went over to the small stereo across the room. Looking through her selection of music she said, "I don't have much for this type of situation." Still sifting through her collection. "What do you have?" "Mostly Earth rock from their sixties and seventies." She paused on a title but kept going. "Good taste." Louis commented. He could NOT stand the Earth's modern music. It was just a bunch of queer looking guys dancing around on stage, some of them lip-sinking to another person's voice. It was a load of crap. More often than naught, the modern bands didn't even write their own music. Louis could not tolerate people who made money from other's ideas. She removed six mini-discs and inserted them into the stereo. She rapidly programmed the songs she wished to hear and played them. Afterwards, she returned to the table. "What'd you pick?" Louis asked. "Like I said, I don't have much for this kind of situation, so I just picked some of the softer stuff. Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, Cream, Don Henley, Dan Fogelberg, and Hallowed Grounds." Hallowed Grounds was one of the few bands on Earth that made music just for the sake of making music. They didn't care if the music they made would make money, they just made what they wanted. And Louis liked that. They were very recent, only a few years old. In spite of that, they had an army of fans. Mostly their music was acoustic with an orchestra playing with them, but occasionally they made a heavy song, like "Sail Down." "Are you sure that little thing can give off enough sound that we can hear it?" Louis said about the stereo. "I have a surround sound system hooked up. We would be able to hear it even if I turned the volume almost all the way down because each of the speakers I have connected has its own equalizer and volume control." Elise said. Louis looked around trying to see where the speakers were. "Sounds nice." The psychedelic sounds of Dark Side of the Moon carried through the room. It sounded like Pink Floyd was playing for them live the sound was so clear but Louis knew that was impossible because every member of the band was six feet under. Then the oven's timer buzzer kicked on. The annoying buzzing was in complete contradiction to the calming effects the music had. Elise shot out of her seat and quickly walked to the oven and turned off the ear rattling noise. She spent a few moments in the kitchen fixing their plates. She returned and handed him a plate with a medium sized steak with a pile of sautéed onions piled next to it. They each eagerly consumed their meals.
Whipping around the front of the building Gary flung the hover car around with ease. The engine whined as Gary pushed it to its limits. The vehicles giving chase were gaining. They were obviously capable of faster speeds in their juiced up vehicles. Gary would have to outmaneuver them in the city. The pavement shot underneath them so fast that the dashed lines appeared to be a single, straight line. It was noon, there would be very little traffic on the street. That could play to their advantage or it might not. Gary yanked the wheel and threw the car onto Main Street. The two black hover cars that were chasing them had split up. Only one was behind them now, and he was closing the distance between them fast. The other one must have cut off on another turn in an attempt to cut them off. Paul looked at Helen sitting next to him. She was frightened. Her fingers were digging into the seat cushion trying to hold her still. In the passenger seat, Emily was behaving identically to Helen. Gary was grinding his teeth as if he was using every muscle in his body to control the speeding car. He had a look of a madman on his face, eyes wide, nostrils flared. Paul looked back through the rear window in time to see a man lean out the passenger side aiming for them. Ducking, he grabbed Helen by the shoulder and yelled, "DUCK!" Three shots were fired in rapid succession. Two hit the trunk and the other passed just inches over the back of their seats. If Paul hadn't ducked, he would have taken that shot through the back. Gary slowed slightly and swung a hard right. He was trying to pull the black car close enough so that when he took a turn, their pursuer did not have enough time to react and take the turn and allow them a clean getaway. It was a simple trick, but the only one Gary could think of. The engine seemed to be screaming at Gary to slow down. The buildings around them were blowing by so quickly Paul couldn't tell where one building ended and another began, it was just one big gray blur. If a pedestrian happened to be walking in front of them, Gary would be moving to quickly to react. He prayed that the streets would remain clear of people until they lost their tails. Behind them two more shots rang out. Paul drew his pistol and returned fire. His shots missed their marks miserably, while their pursuers' shots hit the rear bumper and blasted through it. Flying through an intersection, the other black car came hurtling from the left side. Gary saw it and swung a turn away from it. The one giving chase almost t-boned the other black car and ended the chase right there. But they weren't that lucky. Now they had two dogs on their tail. Two against one, Paul didn't like those odds. Trying to exercise his plan Gary slightly decelerated allowing the black cars to get almost along side them. More shots rang out. Paul fired back.
The road Gary was moving on now ran along side a steep mountain to the left side. One of the black cars pulled along the right side of Gary, plugging up his escape route. The other boxed him in by riding his bumper. Since the black cars could outrun them, they had nowhere to go. Gary looked out his window. The man in the passenger seat pulled out his weapon and was aiming it right at his head. Sweat poured off of Gary in such an abundance that he thought he would shrivel up from the loss of water. He heard a shot ring out, not from the man in the other car, but from Paul. His shot ripped through the window and smashed through the gunman's arm. Blood shot from the wound and he dropped his weapon. The gun struck the pavement and skipped away. Taking advantage of the moment, Gary slammed the hover car into the side of the black hover car beside him. The impact made Gary's, and probably everybody else's jaws slam together. The black hover car was sent into a violent counter clockwise rotation. Nearly the same instant, the twirling hover car careened into the other and caused it to flip up into the air from the high speeds. It came crashing down on its top, surely injuring the passenger and driver if not killing them. Then to add insult to punishment, the spinning car slammed into the crippled hover car sending this one into the air like the last one. However, this hover car did not hit the road again, this one rocketed into the hillside spraying sparks and torrents of rocks into the air. When it finally hit the ground, the energy storage unit ruptured, incinerating the entire vehicle in a huge explosion. Gary still drove above the speed limit but not as fast as he was. Trying to catch his breath he asked, "Is everybody ok?" "Yes." Paul said, also trying to catch his breath. Emily relaxed her grip and looked at her hands like she was amazed that she was still alive. "I.I think so." Helen just nodded. She was still scared stiff. Her nails still clawed into the seat cushion. Paul just now noticed the wind whipping through his already wind-tossed hair. The excitement had numbed him. "Good shot back there Paul." Gary said, not really being sincere, just trying to keep a silence from falling over them. Gary hated silence. "I got lucky." Paul replied with modesty. Lucky, yeah you got that right. Gary thought. You got very lucky, that guy was about a half a second away from wasting me, and ending this joyride. "What do we do now?" Emily asked. The adrenaline that was pumping through her body had ceased and she began to feel the unimaginable pain that was pulsing from her right thigh. Now it was only a tingle. "We need to find a place to hide until tomorrow." He spoke without peeling his attention from the road ahead of him and behind him. Wary that an ambush might strike at any moment, but he knew it would take some time for ADIT to react to this turn of events and reassign some men to take care of them. Despite knowing that bit of information, he was still paranoid. Take no chances he told himself. "We have a summer cabin out near Tear Lake." Paul mentioned. "No way. That would be the next place they would look." Gary gunned that down. "But it's not in our name." Emily rebutted. "We share it with some friends of ours. Our name is nowhere on the deed." Gary couldn't think of anything to say to reject that idea. "That's where we'll go then." He didn't like it but it was the only thing that came to his mind.
The meal was delicious. It was a long time since Louis had had steak. Elise was obviously a good cook. The bluesy rock of Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love" caressed their ears. They had talked all through the meal about their favorite styles of music, books, and movies. Louis had found that she shared many of the same preferences and tastes with him. "Let's see, worse date I ever had, huh?" Elise said, searching for the most embarrassing date she'd ever had. It was part of a little game they were playing back and forth. She thought for a moment, "That would be a few years ago with a guy named Chuck. I was wearing a thick white blouse without a bra because the heat was unbearable. We were supposed to go to a restaurant than a movie. Well, anyway, about halfway through dinner. I had a few drinks in me and I was feeling pretty good." "Let me guess, you got drunk out of your mind and did a lap dance in the middle of the restaurant." Louis said jokingly. Elise laughed at the comment. "No. But when I went to get a drink of water, I spilled it on myself and you can just fill in the details from there." She laughed at her own misfortune. "So, right in the middle of dinner, you give him a peep show." Louis said half laughing. "You should have saw the people's faces, they women were shocked and the men were shocked too but they wanted to see more." Elise added to the slight comedy of the situation. "I don't think I can top indecent exposure. But this one time, on my first blind date I was picked her up in my convertible. We were going across town to see the new James Bond film, which I'm proud to say stunk, when are they going to stop making those movies?" Louis asked rhetorically. "Like I was saying, I was driving her home when I couldn't remember where she lived. I spent the next two hours driving aimlessly around the city, needless to say, she was pissed when I finally got her home." Chuckling, "Not as good as mine, but still funny." The music changed. Now it was the soft rock mastery of Dan Fogelberg. Smiling from the stories they told, Elise stood, "Help me carry these dishes to the sink." Louis stood and grabbed the remaining plates, glasses, and silverware. She was standing in front of the sink with her back to him, as if she was lost in thought. Reaching around her he placed the dirtied flatware in the sink. Elise turned and looked into his eyes. Her gaze froze him in place it was so stunning. An eternity seemed to pass in a blink of an eye as he stared into her green eyes that seemed to be burning with passion. Without a warning, Elise quickly locked her lips to his, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and didn't let go. At first Louis stiffened at her unforeseen attack but soon he reciprocated her actions and accompanied her in the embrace. Louis wasn't sure if it was he or if she was the one who started but they were slowly moving towards the bed, stripping each other as they went. They never broke their kiss for more than a second or two. Now they were standing beside the bed. Things were moving so fast Louis couldn't think. Elise slid down his body and sat on the edge of the bed. It's been awhile since the last time Elise has been totally willing to make love to another man. She slowly lay back on the bed. It is the hypothalamus that is responsible for regulating the pleasure and several other basic needs of the body. Right now, Elise's hypothalamus was working overtime. She was lost in a world in which only one emotion prevailed, pleasure. Louis never considered himself good at lovemaking but obviously Elise thought so. After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only three short minutes, they were finished. Exhausted, Louis rolled over and lay beside Elise. "That was incredible." Elise said, again trying to catch her breath. For a few moments they remained motionless, enjoying each other's company. Hallowed Grounds was now playing. The rhythmic chords of "Lonely Hour" drifted across the air like flower petals on a pond. Louis knew these lyrics quite well: ".if all things must pass, I just want you to last. Then the ghostly choir sings, this is your lonely hour..." For some odd reason, Elise was filled with the unshakable dread that Louis would suddenly shoot up off the bed, pull his clothes back on, and bolt for the door, while saying things like, "Look at the time, I have to run." Or, "It's been great, I'll call you." But her fear never manifested. When he finally stood up, it wasn't with haste or the desire to leave. After they redressed, they became entwined in another peaceable conversation. Time seemed to slip away faster than normal as if a cataclysmic explosion had torn a hole in the time space continuum, consequentially altering the flow of time. By the time Louis had realized what time it was they had been talking for over three hours. Looking at the clock Louis was stunned at how late the night had grown. "Whoa, it's after midnight!" He stood. "What?" Elise was surprised as well. Not wanting the night to end Louis reluctantly slipped his shoes onto his feet. Louis didn't want to run out of the room in a hurry. "I really enjoyed this Elise. I'd like to see you again." "How about tomorrow I come over to your place for dinner." "That'll be fine, but I'm warning you, I can't cook." "Just as long as the food doesn't look like fungus, I won't mind." "Then it's a date." He gave her a kiss and left the cabin. When Louis left, Elise walked over to the stereo and turned it off. The music must have stopped playing over an hour ago, but they were so engrossed in each other, they didn't take notice. No man had ever affected her so strongly so quickly. Leaving the dishes for morning, Elise went to bed.
The next two Machines were taken out with relative ease. Neither had been able to produce any sort of attacking units resulting in quick destructions of both. Together those two expeditions required only a total time of five hours including the four hours that was required to travel between the two planets. Five Machines were destroyed, only two remained. The crews prayed that both would be in the same operating condition as the last pair were. Both of them were completely useless. But that was only wishful thinking. Everybody knew that they were extremely lucky with the diminished capabilities of the five Machines that were destroyed. None were operating at their peak potential. If a Machine did function at its zenith, it could produce more units in a single minute than all of ADIT's facilities could hope to manufacture in a day. Machine number six was in a unique location. Not on in a frozen tundra, or in the middle of a desert, or on a high mountaintop, it did not have a terrestrial foothold. It was located in the middle of space, in a massive emptiness between the planets Coravi and Uttergat. The vastness of this area was so large that to scan the entire area it would take the Ranger, the ADIT's longest range probe, a grand total of six years to scan the entire area. And this Machine was located right dead smack in the middle. There it would not be affected by gravity as much as it would be elsewhere. Logically, this was the best place to put the gargantuan facility. This gave them the most trouble locating. With more than four hours till they reach the destination, the crews had time to kill before the assault. Most of them spent that time on the recreation deck, others just slept the time away. The toll that was taken by the acidic atmosphere of the planet of Machine three was only now being fully rectified. Which was important, all units that were available would be needed to deal with the final Machine. Two Machines left till the Core threat is crushed once and for all.
2
The gray room again, no men in white suits crowding the computers. It's just me, the sphere, and the presence within. Though nothing is happening right now, I'm scared. Not scared of what will happen to me, because I know this is only a picture in my head and no harm can be done to my body. It is not the sphere or the presence residing inside that I'm frightened of. It's the unknown that frightens me now. I don't know what is in that sphere, I don't know if it intends to hurt me or help me, I just don't know. And it is always what remains unseen that is the most frightening. Again I feel words flashing through my brain in another's voice. Though this time they are not broken. They convey more emotion than I thought possible for a simple voice to carry. They wrench at my aching heart. They sound tortured, and a feeling that stretches beyond simple sadness to an overwhelming emotion that man has not created a word for. But I feel it now, the presence feels it as well. So I know that emotion exists. Hopelessness, despair, desperation, none of these comes close to the emotion that is being projected into my head. Even if it was possible to add emotions together and create a summation of all that were given, the total of those that came to my mind would be far too insufficient to describe how I feel right now.
Darkness all around. Deep impenetrable darkness so thick it seems tangible. Macabre images float through the air as if it was a movie screen. It feels warm inside this horrid place yet there is a frightening coldness burning inside. Not frightening because of this place, because of a feeling inside. Emily came out of her daze with a cold sweat pouring out of her pores. She shivered violently even though the interior of the convertible was warm. For a moment she didn't know where she was, but once she saw the coniferous trees blazing by in moving blur she came to her senses and remembered where she was. She quickly glanced at Gary and Paul nervously to see if they had seen her shivering. Gary had his attention solely on the road. His left arm was propped on the door with his elbow sticking through the area in which the window would be if it were up. His head rested on his upturned palm. He seemed to be hypnotized by driving. Paul was playing a game with Helen. He would quote a line from a movie or holovision show and she would have to tell him the movie or the series from which the line was drawn. Neither of them seemed to have noticed her quaking hands or the prominent layer of sweat that clung to her face. She was not dreaming, she was sure of that. So she concluded that she had a vision. She had not had a psychic experience in over a decade, not since the final days of the Great War. "Mommy." The words of a child escaped from her lips. She was not responsible for the act, it was an outside force. Then she was hit by a revelation, though she was not sure where it had derived itself from or what logic she had used to reach it, but she knew that it was the truth. Chris was talking to her. That must be the truth because she was never as sure of anything in her entire life as she was sure of this. Chris was alive and for a moment their minds almost touched. She felt tears of joy burning their way down her cold cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to see her son again, to hold his little body close, to feel the grip of his hand around hers. She missed him terribly. Suddenly she was hit with a tidal wave of sorrow. She felt like she was at the nadir of a deep pit from which there was no escaping. Then an intense rush of hot pain surged through her and brought her back to reality. She pulled up the side of her long skirt and examined the hideous black and blue bruises marring the length of her right thigh. The pain was almost intolerable, but she was partially glad she possessed the discomfort because it dragged her out of the hole of depression that she had dug into the recesses of her mind. At one time, her legs were perfect, or as close to perfection that a human can be. It was as if God himself was jealous, or he had a twisted sense of humor, for after the Battle of Cocytus she would carry a reminder that perfection is fleeting. She traced the prominent scar with her pointer finger. Now she had horrendous marks on that leg as well, but she knew those would fade. But now she had also become aware that her beauty would not last, like time it would eventually disappear. Startling herself at those thoughts she realized she was only thirty. She still had plenty of time before her looks left her. And even then she knew that that would not be the end of the world, she would still have Paul to live out the remainder of her life with. That thought had more of a calming effect than twenty shots of hard liquor could possibly do, without the hangover afterwards. Paul leaned forward between the front seats and examined the road ahead of them. "There will be turnoff just around that bend up there." He said pointing to the blacktop ahead of them. "The cabin is about three miles up that road." Paul added as he fell back into his seat. Gary said nothing, just shook his head to show that he understood. Emily knew he was hiding something more. She could feel it like it was as palpable as the white lab coat he wore. It was like icy razor blades running along her skin. Although being ethereal, Emily wasn't able to block the sensation out of her mind. Gary slowed and guided the hover car onto the smaller road leading to the cabin. The highway they had been following was at a higher elevation than the cabin was set at. Gradually the banks of evergreen trees invaded every few hundred yards by a deciduous of one breed or another. The road slowly descended to the cabin's valley. The more road that passed under them the more leaf-bearing trees spotted the forest of evergreens. About two miles further the trees were split almost evenly. By the time they reached the cabin, only deciduous trees were evident in the vast expanse of green. Gary pulled up along side the wooden cabin. It was small, only five rooms, a kitchen, a bath, two bedrooms, and a small family room. It was not a traditional log cabin, but it was made of wood, which in this day in age was rustic. The roof came up to a peak, running east west, about five feet above the ceiling. A chimney poked through the redwood shingles on the far side of the building. Paul was the first to get out. "She may not look like much, but she's a beauty on the inside." Gary was surprised on how well the man-made structure harmonized with the natural settings. The cabin didn't look like it was made here, it looked like it was grown, as if it was a rare species of tree. Paul walked around to the other side of the car to help Emily out of her seat. He draped Emily's right arm over his shoulder, wrapped his left arm around her, and pulled her slowly from the vehicle. Wincing as she took the first step out of the hover car, Emily nearly fell over but Paul had a firm yet gentle grip on her. The pain in her leg had subsided quite a bit since they had fled their home, but it was still too great for her to walk on. She prayed that her leg would be well enough for her to walk on it by tomorrow. Only able to fully use her left leg she had to lean on Paul as he led her into the cabin.
The assault on this Machine was very different from the rest. For one, this attack was in space. Another was that the Enterprise's could only had a total of ten space fighters in their hangers each. That was only one hundred twenty total attack units. The assault must be well coordinated to minimize casualties to nearly zero. The space fighter that the Enterprise's carried was the Pulsar. The Pulsar was loaded front to back with several weapons. The main guns were rapid- fire disruptor cannons, which were designed to knock out the target's electronic systems. To back those up, two Rapier guided missile banks were placed on board. The Rapier was a missile with its own guidance system on board so it kept tracking its target even if its mother ship was destroyed, and they had an extremely high yield in conjunction with unprecedented speed and maneuverability. To add to the already deadly efficiency of this machine, four automatic lasers were placed along its side to give extra protection.
Elise was not selected as one of the pilots to engage in combat in the following battle. She was ecstatic when she heard that news. She hated flying, plus it would give her more time to herself. Sitting at the bar, sipping at her favorite drink she decided to leave ADIT at the first chance she had. She wanted more out of life. But there was a problem. According to the government she didn't exist. Elise Jacobs had died when she was sixteen in a car accident, well at least that's what the authorities thought. After that "accident" she started her career with ADIT, thinking it was what she wanted. But now she knew she was wrong. Then her thoughts turned toward Louis, and her mood lightened. After serving one of the mechanics Derek came over to her and started asking questions about her date with Louis. "How'd yer date go?" "You were right, he is a nice guy." Elise said as her lips formed a smile. "So it went well." It was only occasionally that Derek spoke a grammatically correct sentence. "You didn't say he was so sweet." "That's 'cause guys don't say other guys are sweet, it just sounds fruity." He leaned closer towards her. "How.sweet," He cringed as he spoke that word. "Was he?" "He could've stayed for breakfast, all he had to do was fall asleep." "You don't waste much time do you?" Derek said half laughing. "I don't know what happened, one minute we were eating, the next minute we're laying on the bed." Derek's eyes opened and he waited attentively for more details but none came. "We have so much in common it's uncanny." "Un.canny?" Derek wasn't that intelligent. "Weird." Elise gave him a one-word definition, though she knew he would forget it in a few hours. "What's 'dat got to do with anything?" Derek was perplexed, or in his case, confused. "I think I'm in love with him." Elise said, almost mumbling it, like she was ashamed to admit it. Stunned Derek nearly blew a blood vessel. "YOU?!" He was not angry just utterly astonished that she would say that. "You'd be the last person I'd expect to fall for someone!" "We didn't have meaningless sex, there was something more to it." Elise said, not believing Derek would understand how she felt. He was the drifter type. Moving from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship like they were stepping-stones across a creek. "I think that would be the only way he'd sleep with me, if he felt something for me too. I don't know why, it just seems to fit him." She was no longer talking to Derek but rather to herself, as if she was attempting to achieve a higher understanding of the matter by telling herself the story. Even though Derek had never had meaningful sex in his life, he knew what she was talking about, he just didn't see the point in it. Because of that he never saw the point in marriage either. He can't stand being with the same women for more than three weeks let alone for several years. "Are you going to see him again?" He asked expecting to hear her say that she didn't know what she was going to do. "I'm going to his place for dinner tonight." Elise said. Derek was left speechless. He began to think of reasons why she was acting like she was. Normally, when she became flustered or confused by her emotions, she ran away. But the best explanation he thought of was the fact that she had three straight boyfriends that treated her like a piece of meat. It was disgusting even by Derek's standards. And when the first man that comes along and treats her with respect she falls head over heels for him. That had to be it, or at least part of the reason, but he could think of nothing more to fill the hole.
The voice is ringing through my head though I'm still awake. Am I awake? There's the saltshaker, feels solid enough. I open the jar and pinch some salt between my forefinger and middle finger and place it on my tongue. Tastes like salt. But I need more proof that I'm awake. I pinch my arm. Ouch. Yes, I am awake. Then why am I still hearing this voice that is not mine? Am I going mad? I don't think so. I can still make rational decisions all the time and I still have my memories but I wish those would go away, even if it leaves me a blithering idiot. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it will end my torment. The voice is the same from the visions I've been having lately. "Help me." It says in a pathetically weak voice. My heart feels like its being torn in two. I want to help to help that little boy but I don't know how. Blackness. "What the hell was that?!" I shout out in surprise. I didn't feel anything for that split second of time. Not even my steady respiration. It was like someone flipped a switch in my brain that turned off my consciousness. Blackness. Completely shocked I shot out of the armchair I was sitting in and began to look around the room with a haste I've never before felt. I was alone in the room, just as I had thought. Blackness. Longer this time. I'm standing in the kitchen. But I was in the living room. An unsettling fear ties my stomach in knots. I walk back towards the living room. Blackness. Again I moved. Now I'm standing outside. This is the first I've left the house in over three years. The bright midday sun burns my eyes. Blackness. I'm sitting in my hover car. This thing hasn't been run for so long I think the electron accelerator's frozen. The fear in my gut grows into paranoia. What is causing me to move without my mind knowing about it? A cold sweat pours down my forehead. Blackness. "HOLY SHIT!" I shout I'm sitting in the middle of traffic on a major highway. The light shining into my car is died a crimson from something. "What in God's name is going on?!" I yell expecting no answer in return. I look panicky out my window. There's a huge shopping center two hundred or so yards off the side of the highway. I have no clue where I'm heading. Blackness. I wake up flying at eighty miles per hour down a deserted stretch of highway in a woodsy area. Reflexively I slammed the brakes. The reverse propulsion system kicked in jetting thousands of pounds of air out the front end of the vehicle and stopping it. I rip my hands from the wheel as if it were a sacrilege to keep them there. "What the hell is going on?" I mutter under my breath. Blackness. Moving again in the hover car. I am off of the main highway and traveling down a two-lane road. The trees are so dense on either side of me that I can hardly see ten yards deep through them. I slam the brakes again and come to a complete stop. The paranoia fills my brain to the brim. I reach for the door handle to get out. Blackness. I'm not standing outside my hover car but instead I'm driving down the two- lane road once again. A clearing is just ahead.
Emily was massaging her right thigh. With each press pain flashed through her mind, but with each successive compression, the pain weakened. After a few minutes it was only a dull throb. Good enough to walk on. But she knew it would only last a few hours until the muscles in her leg tightened up again. She didn't care she had a reprieve from the agony and that was good enough for her. Gary and Paul were talking back and forth about the advancements in the military technology. They weren't engrossed in the conversation; they spoke to kill time. Paul was on the couch sitting with her and Gary sat in an armchair across the room from them. Helen was watching the holovision on the other side of the room. The family room was the largest room in the cabin at twenty feet by fifteen feet. It was the focal point of everything. The only entrance was through the middle of the wall facing the road that led into the valley. Facing that door, the kitchen was joined to the right by an opening and directly behind would be the hallway that led to the bedrooms on either side and at the far end, the bathroom. Since she would be the first one to see anyone trying to get in the door she had the pistol. Right now it was sitting on the end table beside her.
Emily peered between the closed window drapes and saw a hover car coming toward them. Panic shot through her veins like it was part of her blood. "Somebody's coming." She said trying to mask her panic. "How'd they find us so quick?" Gary said as he pulled the window drapes aside and looked out. An old hover car drove up and stopped right along side theirs audaciously.
Paul had grabbed the rifle and was now staring at the hover car. "Why did it stop there? That makes no sense. If they know we're here wouldn't they try to be less conspicuous?" He said in a near whisper. "Yes, they would. This isn't their style." Gary confirmed. The driver's door was flung open and an old man exited the vehicle looking dazed and confused. "That's the crazy old man that lives next to us." Emily pointed out. She was as perplexed as how he had gotten here as Paul or Gary were. "What the living hell?" Paul said. "I thought he never left his house." The old man walked straight for the door with a blank expression on his face. His eyes were empty of all thought and emotion, if she didn't know any better, Emily could have sworn he was dead if he was lying down. "You know that guy?" Gary said. "Not really. He's a hermit, but he's also our neighbor, and in a suburb community like ours everybody knows everybody else and their business too." Emily said, but as she came to the end of the sentence her voice had a ring of anger in it. She hated people knowing her business if she don't tell them herself. The man walked up to the door and opened it, not even bothering to knock. Emily jumped and pointed the gun at him. "Stop right there!" She said aiming for his head. The tall man's lips moved but no words were emitted. He swayed back and forth like an upside-down pendulum. "Back up asshole!" Emily shouted trying to intimidate him but too much of her fear had spilled into her words. The man moved his lips, this time words spewed from them. Then Emily heard a voice so innocent that she froze in place. "Mommy?" It was Chris' sweet voice. Seeing the tall man speak like a child would be absurd and cause Emily to laugh, but this time no laughter exploded from her. "Chris?" Paul said behind her. He had heard the voice too and was probably as confused as Emily was. The expression on the man's face did not change, it was still gaping and void of feeling. The voice from his lips did not belong to him. "Daddy?" The voice sounded like it was quivering with the onset of tears. Emily was still staring in shock, unable to move. Then the voice said something nobody in that room will ever forget, not because of the content of the words, because of the intense emotion they conveyed. "Help me, Mommy." Know the voice sounded like it was in full- blown tears. The weak and innocent utterance was like an icy sword plunging through Emily's heart. She felt like she was going to cry. Hot tears welled in her eyes, but she was still unable to move a single muscle. At first Paul was deeply touched by this phenomena, but that quickly turned to anger. He would make everyone pay that had touched his son. The anger burned inside him with a fury that he had thought impossible. Gary was speechless, he was daunted by the happenings of the last few moments. He was not sure what they meant, but he knew they were significant.
I wake up again, this time my vision is slow to regain focus. There is something close to me. It looks metallic. Getting clearer. I can almost see it now. Totally clear I see it. "Holy shit!"
The blank expression faded from the man's face and he seemed to be regaining consciousness or whatever he had lost to end up like this. He looked straight at the gun in Emily's hand, shouted in fear, and grabbed his chest. Emily still was unable to move. She watched in a terrified awe as the man grabbed his chest while making horrid sounds of agony. He fell backwards into the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. His hand relaxed and fell to the floor. Gary rushed over to his side and pressed his fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. He moved his hand and placed it under his nose. Then he shook his head. Paul was the first to say something. "What happened?" "I think when he woke up or whatever happened, he saw the gun and he panicked and it caused a heart attack." Gary said in a saddened voice. He didn't like seeing people die, though he killed two people in the lab when he escaped. But he kept telling himself that was self-defense. Emily was still locked in place. A look of terror mixed with a look of question melded together across her face. Paul walked over to her and placed his hand on the pistol. Emily snapped. She flinched away from his grasp, she kept whipping her head around as if she was desperately trying to locate something. Her breathing was erratic. "Calm down, baby." Paul said trying to soothe her. "I.he.Chris.him.dead.Chris!" She was babbling almost incoherently staggering backwards. She dropped the pistol. "Grab her! She's going to pass out!" Gary shouted. Paul moved in to grab her before she could fall. Too late. Her hyperventilating caused an abrupt drop in the amount of oxygen going to her brain and she lost consciousness. She fell away from Paul and struck her head hard on the floor when she landed.
It was still early, only four o'clock, but Elise wanted to talk to Louis awhile before they ate. She wanted to talk about their relationship and where it was headed. Even though they've only had a single date she felt the time was right. She has had this talk twice before, and both times the man didn't want to see her anymore, which was what she had wanted. But this time she desired the opposite, though she did not know why. Elise walked in a near daze to Louis' apartment thinking about what she would say to him. She arrived at his room still not sure what she was going to say. She knocked. Like she was, Louis was not selected to take place in the assault. Louis answered the door. "Elise." He said surprised that she had arrived so early. He looked at his watch. "You're early." "I thought we could have a talk before we ate." Elise said trying to bring a smile to her face but she failed. Louis' face went slack. "Oh." He said glumly. "I know. You had second thoughts about last night didn't you?" All of the happiness he had possessed when he opened the door and saw Elise had been drained from him. "Oh, no! Not that." Elise had said something wrong or pushed the wrong button. "I thought last night was incredible." She spoke honestly. "Thank goodness." Louis said as if a three-ton weight had been lifted from him. "I thought you came here to break up with me." He was infinitely relieved. She stepped across the threshold and Louis shut the door behind her. "But I do want to talk about us. Where our relationship is going." At first she wanted to be discreet, but she could thing of anything else to say in place. "Oh." "I thought about this all day and I can find no other way to tell you but I'm going to give it my best shot." Elise said not daring to make eye contact. "Go on." "I think we have something special, and I want us to get serious about it." She used the same line she used the two other times she had this talk. "Yes. I think so too." Louis agreed genuinely. "You do! That's wonderful!" Elise's worry was assuaged by his concurrence. "I feel so much better now." The dining table was only a few feet away and Elise pulled a chair out and sat down facing away from the table. Louis grabbed a chair and placed it in front of Elise and sat down. He took her hands in his and squeezed them tenderly. Elise looked into his eyes for the first time since she had entered his room. She leaned forward and kissed his lips as if to say 'thank you.' "I can't say how good it feels to get that off my chest." She said with a buoyancy in her that it seemed that she would just lift off of her chair and float around the room. "I love you." Louis said as he gazed into her emerald eyes. "I've loved you since the first moment I saw you." His confession had stunned Elise. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if she loved him in return or not. "It's okay if you don't feel the same way I do, I just wanted you to know that I genuinely love you." He spoke with a sincerity that surprised Elise. Not sure what to say Elise just nodded. Louis smiled sweetly and gave her a tender kiss. Remembering that he had to cook, Louis stood up and walked to the refrigerator. "Since you're here, you can decide what we can eat for dinner." Louis said as he walked into the kitchen. That's something I can answer. Elise thought to herself. "What do you have in there?" "Chicken legs, lamb cutlets, and a roast. But it's a little late to start the roast, it will take too long, unless you want to eat around nine." Louis said jokingly. "How about the lamb?" Elise replied. "Lamb it is then." Louis said as he pulled out two frost covered packages from the freezer. "We'll be eating around seven or so. That gives us three hours to kill." He placed the frozen meat into the pans and programmed the oven to do the rest of the work. Elise had never felt happier in her life. She had a man that loved her, truly loved her for the first time in her life. She stood and walked over to him. A smile drew across her face. Wrapping her arms around his waist she pressed her body against him. She rested her head on his chest. Using one arm Louis pulled Elise's warm body closer, and with his other arm he stroked her dark auburn hair. Standing in each other's arms, feeling their hearts beat, it felt as if they were a single entity but with two individual thoughts. Their embrace felt right. As Louis slid his fingers through Elise's thick hair he knew that they would end up in bed together again. He could feel it as if it passed through the air like falling leaves from autumn trees. Despite the heated thoughts of passion drifting through his mind, he thought of the extraordinary child that revealed the locations of the Machines and he sympathized for him. If the rumors were true, and if that the escaped scientist was telling the truth to the parents then they were in some deep shit. The parents could go to the press and blow the entire ADIT system out of the water, but they probably wouldn't do that because they had no proof. Anyway Louis looked at it, the parents were dangerous to ADIT and they had to be silenced as quickly as possible. He was not a vengeful man but for some reason he wanted to see the family before they were killed, just out of pure curiosity. Though he personally wanted them to go free. He had seen the pictures of them, and there was something about that woman, something that he could not grasp, something that lay just beyond the spectrum of his senses, something that eluded him like a fly evading a swinging hand, just something.
3
When Emily woke up, it felt like she was beaten senseless, again. A knot had swelled up on the back of her head the size of a large marble, but she did not know when she had hit her head. However, if it was of any consolation, her leg was feeling much better, only causing slightly more discomfort than it usually does. She would be able to go with Paul without him worrying about her every step of the way, and that was a relief to her. Her thoughts were muddied by her pounding headache, and her vision clouded by the dull, unrelenting pulses of pain from the back of her head. Despite the hindrance to her sight, she was able to discern from her surroundings that she was laying on the couch in the living room. She tilted her head to the right and saw a blurred figure sitting not too far away. "Paul?" She said to the obscured silhouette with more vigor than she thought she could muster. Nearly immediately the form moved. "Emily?" It was Paul, and he sounded worried, or was it concern that shaped his voice, Emily could not tell because her headache inhibited her thoughts. "I'm thirsty." Her entire mouth felt like sand. Slowly, her vision cleared. She was able to see that another person was sitting at her feet. She was also able to see Paul move from the place where he sat and shoot into the kitchen. The water was turned on. Then a few seconds later, the water running through the faucet was silenced. Paul returned with a cup of cool water, but Emily didn't care if Paul gave her dog piss to drink, as long as it was something wet. Paul placed the cup on the table next to him and helped her to achieve a reclined position so she can more easily drink the cool liquid that he had brought. Paul handed her the cup. Moisture had already formed along the sides of the plastic. Not completely sure of her coordination, Emily held the cup in both hands and tilted it into her mouth allowing its contents to slowly pour in. The cool water stung Emily's teeth slightly and evicted the aridity that had taken tenancy inside her mouth. It was almost ambrosial the way it felt when the moisture had reclaimed what the dryness had once occupied. Pulling the cup away, her thirst quenched, she let out a sigh of relief. "You need anything else, sweetheart?" Paul asked in a soothing yet worried voice. People's voices could tell you so much about how they feel. Only a few gifted souls could totally mask their true emotions in their inflections. Emily could tell how Paul felt just by listening to him speak. It was almost as easy for her as it was to read a book. Paul was not one of those people who could disguise their voice. Emily shook her head. "What happened? Why do I have a pounding headache?"
"You passed out and hit your head on the floor." Another voice said from the other side of the room. It was Gary. Emily's vision was almost clear now. She could make out Paul's handsome face except that the details were fuzzy. She could see him turn towards Gary, but he didn't say anything. If he did it probably would have been along the lines of, 'Nice job of being sensitive, asshole.' Maybe he wouldn't have added the 'asshole' part. From the bathroom Emily heard quick footsteps rushing down the hall. Then she heard Helen. "I thought I heard Mom talk. Is she awake yet?" She burst into the room and looked straight at her mother, who was still not entirely clearheaded. With a speed and agility only a child possesses, she shot through the small gap between the couch and the repositioned chair Paul was sitting at, spun one hundred eighty degrees and bent over and hugged Emily. She performed that feat before Emily could react to her sudden appearance in the room. Grasping tightly around her shoulders, the eleven year-old let her emotions go with an ease that many adults try to but rarely succeed. Maybe the child could demonstrate their emotions easier because the shunning of society did not yet tainted their growing minds. "I was so worried about you Mom." She was near tears. "There's no reason to worry, it was just a little bump on the head. I'm fine now." She lied. She hated lying, but she was trying to calm her daughter. But it failed. It might have been because Emily was unable to completely quell the uneasiness in her voice. Helen burst into tears. They were not tears for her mother, or for herself. They were not tears for her missing sibling. They were not tears of pain, sympathy, or agony. They were born of the accumulation of the facts that their lives that were forever changed, she had lost everything except that what she had with her when she left school, and seeing the old man die before her eyes. Paul stood and removed Helen from Emily and consoled her in his strong yet tender arms. Rocking her slowly back and forth while making ever-softening shhh sounds. He was able to return Helen to the commanding position over her emotions, and her sobs quieted, and then fell silent completely. Looking Helen in her red, puffy eyes Paul asked, "You okay now?" Helen nodded her head, not risking opening her mouth to omit words, for it may cause another outburst of tears. Emily watched Paul as he handled their daughter's emotions as if he was carrying a dozen eggs, with gentleness and care. He was a good father and Emily was glad that she had found the right man on her first shot with a serious relationship. After they had been married for a few months Emily began to think that maybe she had rushed into things and that Paul would become harsh and abusive later in their marriage, but those were unjustified fears. He has never raised his hand in anger and has only raised his voice in their most heated arguments, which she could count on a single hand, which she thought wasn't bad for eleven years. She considered herself very lucky now that she has had a chance to look back over her decisions. Helen walked away and sat in a chair at the far end of the room, probably to calm her emotions even further. Paul couldn't blame her for reacting the way she did. So much has happened over the past few days and it simply overloaded her. He turned his attention towards Emily. Sitting on the edge of the couch, he took her hands in his. A loving gaze fell over his face as he stared into Emily's eyes. "I love you." Emily said. He kissed her forehead. "I love you too. And I promise you that we'll get Chris back." He released her hands and stood to face Gary, who had his back turned so as not to appear vexatious. To Gary he said, "We'll have to have a plan to get into that place, get Chris and get out without attracting too much attention. Plus if you get killed before we get there, we'll be lost." "You're right." He didn't sound enthused about his treachery to the people he had worked for, but he knew that he was taking the morally right path.
Dinner was exquisite, but Louis thought it wasn't nearly as satisfying in comparison to the love they made before. Which was far better than the first time. It was more rhythmical, more sensuous. The image of her seething body falling and rising in gratification was etched into his memories. The way she felt when her sensations culminated into an explosion was eternally engraved in his mind. Breaking his chain of thought and the conversation they were carrying, the intercom shattered the moment and chatted away like a wounded bird. "All selected pilots report to their ships, all selected pilots report to their ships. Attack will commence in forty minutes." Though the closest intercom speaker was located thirty feet from Louis' room, the sound it generated was heard clearly from the table Louis and Elise sat at. Then as abruptly as the interruption began, it ended with a click and the patting of feet running down the halls. "What chances do think we have?" Elise asked about the upcoming battle. "If the Machine was debilitated as badly as the last five were then we have a good chance. But if the thing is firing on all of its cylinders, then we might as well fill out our wills right now." The prospect of their possible deaths stared at them with a malevolence that would make a person with a weaker mind than they possessed crawl into the fetal position in a dark corner of the room. But Elise and Louis faced death every time they went out on these missions, so they were used to it. They batted death from their minds easier than shooing away a pesky insect.
"What do you think'll happen?" She was mildly concerned about the outcome of the battle, which was mystifying to Louis. This was her fourth year with ADIT, surely by know she would be apathetic or at least indifferent to the possibility of an early visit to the grave. Something was odd about her that had changed since the last time he saw her. Answering as honestly as he could he said, "I think the Machine will be just like the other's. So there's no reason to be worried about it." "Oh." Elise said, but she was distant. "What's wrong?" Louis asked trying to unravel the truth that she was hiding. "It's nothing." "It has to be something, or else you wouldn't be so concerned about if we win or not." Louis didn't like to waste time, he went straight to the point. Her gaze was fixed on her empty plate. Her hands were nervously tumbling around each other on the table. Something was bothering her. "I want out." "Out of what?" The ambiguity of her statement worried Louis. She might be having second thoughts of their relationship, but that wouldn't make sense.
"I want my life back." She wanted to be rid of ADIT. "But the government's files say you're dead, there's no way you can go back." Louis tried to face the painful truth. "I don't care, I want a family of my own, while I'm young." ADIT placed infertility drugs in the food that they fed their employees. That is so that they don't have to worry about any children that may be born from the employees. If you wanted to call them employees. Louis wanted to propose to her right there, but it was too early, way too early. Anyway the situation didn't feel right. He wanted it to be romantic when he asked her to marry him. "Whatever you choose, I'll stay with you all the way." He placed his hands over hers. "Thank you. I can't say how much that means to me." She looked at him and forced a thin smile. "But." "You don't have to say anything, being able to see your beautiful face is enough for me." "I." Elise swallowed hard. "I'm in love with you." Louis felt like jumping out of his seat and celebrating with a dance, but he controlled himself. The unadulterated joy he felt when Elise confessed her love to him was surging in him like a benevolent storm. He felt lighter than a feather sitting in his chair, looking at Elise's emerald eyes. "Will you help me get out of here?" Elise said. "I know that's asking quite a bit, but I won't be able to do it by myself." "Of course I'll help you." Louis was faced with a dilemma, and wished not to tell Elise about this until he knew they were strong enough to handle it.
"What do you mean they can't be found!" "We can't find them. They killed the last agents that were sent to silence them." "The kid." "What about the kid?" "He's psychic, he'll know were they are." "But Walter's dead and Gary's gone." "Then bring in other scientists. Do I have to think of everything?!" "Yes, sir." "Tell Mr. Holliday to assemble his crew, he's to come here ASAP." "Of course, sir."
Detected: Arm Vessels -unidentified- Activate: Resource Synthesizing Activate: Resource Storage Facilities Error: Storage 4e 5m 1m malfunction -[reroute resource conduction]- Complete: Resource Production Activate: Production Racks {-Interceptors (1-30)-Fighters (31-45)-Cruisers (46-50)-} Error: Racks inoperable *1 3 4 6 9 15 24 31 35 38 41 42 45 48 50* -[shutdown faulty racks]-
4
The massive hanger doors opened revealing the black emptiness of space. The Pulsars slowly left the security of their respective Enterprise's almost reluctantly. Their mission is to distract the enemy fighters while the Enterprises move in and fire their quantum lasers at the Machine. With the Machine down, the smaller units it produced will be easier targets. Once the Machine is down, the fighters or whatever it makes will be unable to effectively communicate between each other and resultantly, their coordination will be compromised. By groups of five they left the confides of the hangers, spilling out into the vast vacuum surrounding them. Outside the hangers, the universe seemed to explode around them. It was entirely psychological of course. It was the effect of leaving a smaller area and entering a larger one. The stars, for a split second, shone brighter than they ever did before. Several thousand meters to their left the Machine floated in the middle of the void. It was so dark, the only details that gave its position away were the absence of stars in its proximity, and the faint almost invisible glare that the Enterprise's lights projected onto the harsh metallic surface. The Machine seemed to be staring at them with the hatred of a demon. It seemed to be throwing off literal waves of icy animosity. It chilled the pilots to the bone, tying their intestines in knots so tight that it seemed that it would be impossible to relax them again. Then like hungry dogs rushing to the sounding of a dinner bell, the Machine dumped out dozens of fighters that seemed to be screaming for blood. "HOLY SHIT!" One of the pilots shouted as his radar lit up like a Christmas tree. The radar on one of the Enterprise's was so cluttered with contacts that it looked like a single pulsing screen of green. Despite being outnumbered by a large amount and growing larger with every passing moment, the pilots had a few aspects going for them. For one, they were human, and everybody knows that no machine can out think a human. Secondly, they were organized. The swarms of units that spewed from the mouth of the Machine were in no way organized, no computer could coordinate that many targets simultaneously. Could it? One hundred twenty versus three hundred and growing. The odds weren't good, in fact they were down right terrible, but the pilots in the Pulsars were well trained and could take down several enemy targets before they were destroyed, but those were in the simulations. And simulations, no matter how accurate, were still far from the real experience. "All wings, engage enemy." The attack command was given. The Pulsars accelerated to top speed and streaked towards the growing mass of Core space fighters. The Enterprises fired their small anti-fighter cannons into the pulsating cloud of friendly and enemy forces. Surely, every shot made contact. It was like shooting the proverbial fish in a barrel, they were going to hit something. From the view of the pilots in the Pulsars, it appeared as if hell had unleashed its fury on this sector of space. Countless numbers of laser shots raced back and forth regardless of where the pilots looked.
Louis was cleaning the table off while Elise relieved herself in the bathroom. That was when the news came that he didn't want to hear. Someone was knocking at the door. Knock knock. Louis slowly traversed across the room. He knew what the man on the other side of the door wanted. Louis just wanted to disappear. Reluctantly, he opened the door revealing the bearer of the unwanted news. "Mr. Holliday?" The man asked. He was young looking, probably nineteen. Blonde hair, blue eyes the classic woman's dream. But he was only about five four, too short to fully portray the appearance genetics had partially given him. He had a squeaky, nasal voice that almost sent chilly vibrations up Louis' spine. "Yes." Louis said flatly. "Mr. Doherty has ordered you to assemble your four man crew, you have been called up for a manhunt. You have ten minutes. I have a shuttle waiting for you. "I'll need more than ten minutes!" "I have my orders, and you have yours. I suggest you follow them." Louis didn't like this man. He was too sure of himself. Maybe that wasn't all of it. On some level the man standing before Louis deserved to be hated. He didn't know why but he felt it. He felt it in the hardness of gaze, the way he held his head as he walked. The blonde haired man left, leaving Louis to solve his own problems. It wasn't just a regular manhunt he was being placed in command of, this was a search and destroy mission. Last night when he had returned from Elise's apartment, he had found two men in his room and they explained what they wanted him to do. He was to go find the Ham family and silence all of them. That left him with his dilemma. He didn't have the heart to kill in cold blood, especially when his targets were completely innocent. But he couldn't disobey orders. Quickly he thought of three people and he would bring them with him. But a question kept nagging him from deep within his mind. Should I do the right thing, or follow orders?
Outside the battle raged with more fury than an erupting volcano. Pulsars flew in erratic paths evading heavy weapon fire. Often the pilots had three and four bogeys harassing them. Streaks of blue, crimson, and gold tore through the battlefield as often as raindrops fell during a violent rainstorm. From a distance the spectacle would be breathtaking, but up close it was like living a page from the Book of Revelations. Only fifty seconds had expired off Father Time's master clock since the battle began, but to the pilots it seemed as if three hours had ticked away. It was at that point when the first Core cruisers were spotted exiting the gaping mouth of the Machine. Three in all, they immediately began to feel the sting of the heated battle when they broke free from the Machine. The action was so close to the Machine that many Pulsars were able to fly up into the belly of the thing and take out a few production racks while they were in there before they slammed into a steel wall, disintegrating their bodies instantaneously. Despite the gradual reduction in racks the Machine could produce with, nothing could be done to slow the speed at which the gargantuan mechanism expelled units. Up close, the Machine loomed over the battlefield the way a medieval king would watch the brutal games the knights would play for their honor and his entertainment. Its appearance was haunting, no lights whatsoever existed on its interior or on any part of its exterior. It still looked as if it wasn't really there and was only an illusion from the absence of light, and the coherent absence of detail. It looked as if a void had opened up and was not permitting any light to pass through its greedy jaws. But it was not an illusion or mirage, and many Core fighters and Pulsar pilots alike learned this harsh lesson when they were hurtled into the steely surface of the Machine destroying them. Each time a fighter struck the surface and exploded a small portion of the Machine was lit up, exposing a colorless steel gray surface with protrusions of the same hard steel that transformed the surface of the thing into a metallic forest. A forest in which the only life that prevailed were the microscopic organisms that clung to the sides of anything and fed off whatever minute amounts of nutrients that existed on their, most often, barren surfaces. Seven Core cruisers were active, firing their anti-fighter cannons attempting to knock out the invading Pulsars, but they were inflicting more damage to their own fighters than to the speedy Pulsars as they wildly evaded the energy blasts.
On board the Enterprise named "Victoria" the action was the intense. Since it was the closest to the battle, it had sustained considerably more damage than the other eleven Enterprises, but it was still able to operate at its full potential. "Those Cruisers must go down now." Captain Richards announced to the crew that was on the bridge. "We can't get close enough to fire the quantum laser, sir." Mike Wells, the navigation officer, commented. "I don't give a damn!" Richards snapped. "Morris," He turned to face the communications officer. "Contact the 'Conquistador,'" The "Conquistador" was another of the Enterprises that were present at the ferocious battle and the Enterprise that was in command over the remainder of the fleet. "Tell them that we are advancing to remove the enemy cruisers. Then cut off the communication." "Yes, sir." Morris knew that what they were doing would get them in some deep shit with their superiors, but they would follow any orders Captain Richards gave them. The massive ship slowly accelerated into the flowing mass of fighters.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Captain Dumas, the captain on board the "Conquistador," barked into the communications device located on his seat. "Answer me 'Victory,' DAMMIT ANSWER ME!" He had given them no order to advance into the battle. The only order he had given was to fire at the enemy fighters with the anti-fighter cannons. "Sir, the 'Victory' has closed all of its frequencies." The communications officer said. "God dammit!" Captain Dumas smashed his fist into the armrest on his chair. The polycarbonate casing on the armrest shuddered with the impact but did not break. There was nothing he could do to stop the "Victory." He was powerless, and he hated being powerless. He loved to be in control of everything around him. It was like an obsession. Now someone had deprived him of that, and he was furious. He would make sure that Captain would never command another ship the rest of his career, that is if he made out of there alive.
Plunging into the swarming mass of fighters the "Victory" had leaped from the frying pan into the fire. Several Core fighters slammed into the sides of the massive vessel. The ship shuddered violently when the fighters collided with it. The collisions only lasted a few moments until the spacecraft began to avoid the gargantuan frigate. The "Victory" looked like a Great White shark swimming through a huge school of miniscule minnows.
"What's going on?!" Elise said in a commanding tone. Louis had rushed into the shower told her to get dressed; they were leaving. "No time to explain. We have to get to the docking bay." Louis had not told her why he had dragged her from his cabin and was leading her to the docking bay. Elise halted. "Dammit Louis! I don't like being left in the dark about anything! Now, tell me!" Anger flared in her eyes. He had seen her depressed, happy, tipsy, disconcerted, but he had never seen her hostile. Louis gave her an abridged version of what had transpired that forced him to pull out of active battle duty and into a manhunt. He had three minutes to get to the docking bay or he would miss his transport. If he missed his transport, he would probably be removed from ADIT. ADIT didn't like tardiness, especially on something as high in importance as this mission was. Realizing his predicament Elise said as she started to bolt for the docking bay, "Well then hurry!" Louis quickly followed.
Herald Rager pulled hard to starboard, narrowly avoiding an out of control spacecraft hurtling towards him. Though the Core fighter had passed just inches from his Pulsar, he heard no sound. He knew space conducts sound at the same intensity as air conducts electricity. This was because sound requires a molecular medium to travel through. Consequently sound was completely nonexistent in the emptiness of space. That odd accommodation was difficult to adjust to. No matter where Herald looked, Core fighters filled his vision. They were outnumbered at least six to one now, and that margin was steadily increasing. Herald didn't see how they could possibly hope to knock out enough of these fighters so the Enterprises could get close enough to destroy the Machine, not when the Machine kept pumping fighters into the battle faster than the Pulsars could take them down. This was a losing battle, even though only four Pulsars were shot down compared to sixty Core fighters. A feeling of helplessness began to burn inside him. At first, it was only a small ember, hardly noticeable. Just a small inconvenience. But the longer the battle raged, the brighter and hotter that ember burned. It grew until it was a candlelight, then a torch, then a bonfire. Now it was a towering inferno, burning with all the heat that the fires of hell blazed with. His ability to hold that feeling down was proportional to the heat of the flame inside. He was straining with every once of his will power to keep fighting, but he knew he was nearing his breaking point. Then he would not just be fighting on orders, he would be trying to get out of the battle, even if it meant dying in the process, and Herald didn't want to die, not just yet.
Elise did not know why she had gone along with Louis. The situation that Louis had explained to her did not sound inviting, but she had gone anyway. Why? She asked herself over and over, but every time, she drew a blank. Maybe it was because she was afraid of losing Louis. That thought chilled her to the bone. Maybe that was the reason why. She was afraid of losing the first man to treat her like a woman, instead of treating her like a piece of beef. Stepping off the elevator Elise nearly ran into a janitor that was mopping the decks. He had a gray beard and his hair was a matching shade. A few wrinkles marked his face around his eyes and by his lips. He appeared to be around sixty. She stopped suddenly, then sidestepped around him and took off. Louis was a few yards ahead of her. The janitor was shouting at them from behind. "Slow down ya' hoodlums!" He was probably shaking his fists at them to complete the cliché. But Elise didn't look back. She didn't care. Several questions kept running through her mind. Who was this 'kid'? Why is so important that his parents be killed? The former pressed harder against her than the latter. Maybe it was because he was only eight years old. That was all the information about the boy that Louis gave her. He told her that it was better to know too little in this situation than to know enough. That brought up another question. What was "to know enough" supposed to mean? But Elise knew that she would know the answer to this later, and that she would be terrified of the answer. A shiver ran the length of her spine.
Pitching left, rolling right, nose-diving, Herald evaded enemy fire, but only barely at times. The towering inferno of emotion that burned inside him had grown in intensity to a flame of apocalyptic proportions. One so hot and furious that Satan himself would run in terror from it. He still was able to hold back that sense of helplessness. But not only was he fighting a losing battle on the physical plane, he was fighting one on the psychological one as well. He was becoming mentally fatigued from suppressing the urge to run and save his skin. Grayness had begun to cloud the outer extents of his peripheral vision. He was having difficulty concentrating on the controls under his hands. He could not give up, he must go on. Surrender is never an option. Then he saw the "Victory" rush into the battlefield, guns firing. Though it was sustaining heavy damage from its attack, it was shooting down Core fighters with its anti-fighter cannon just as easily as an eagle's wings cut through the air. The anti-fighter cannons that were mounted on all of the Enterprises had a maximum damage output high enough to destroy a mid-size fighter with a single shot. The Core fighters that were present were ancient in comparison to the Pulsars and therefore stood no chance against them, let alone the Enterprise's anti-fighter cannons. But what the Core fighters lacked in technology, they made up in numbers and an infinite supply of them. Upon seeing the "Victory" plunge head first into the battle a great deal of the fire burning inside him was extinguished. Though not all of the flame was eradicated, he could still feel it dancing across his nerves.
Max sat in his office waiting for a call from one of his agents. Even though he was a part of ADIT, he had several agents that worked directly beneath him. They were used for spying, espionage, and countless other acts that would be too dangerous to his career if he were caught in the act. There was no way his agents could be traced back to him. The call he was expecting would be from Norman on the "United" Enterprise. Norman was watching Louis Holliday. The phone buzzed with activity. Max snatched the receiver from its cradle and brought it to his ear. "I am the door." The voice spoke from the other end, it was Norman. He said the first of a two-part message that must be given before either could speak. It was a way of making sure that they were taking to the right person. "I am the sky." His part of the message was to signify that it was him on this end of the line and that he was alone. "Mr. Holliday has just boarded his shuttle and will be arriving on Deneb in three hours." "Very good. How did he react to being assigned to the mission?" "He seemed hesitant. Therefore I believe that he may not follow his orders as efficiently as his file dictates. I suggest we locate another person to handle this." "No. If Mr. Holliday does not follow his orders we will activate his cerebral interruption device. Normally, I would find another person to handle a mission of this importance but we are strapped for time. We haven't been able to get the kid to find his parents for us and we have reason to suspect that they will be coming in the next day or two." "If they are coming so soon why don't we increase the security at the installation?" "Because we don't have the manpower and we can't be sure if they will show up or not. I don't have the authority to pull that many men off of other assignments onto security." "Is there a possibility that Dr. Wallace is assisting them?" "That is definitely a contingency we must prepare for. If he is helping them they have a very good chance." "Should we be worried about anyone assisting them other than Dr. Wallace?" "I don't think that will be a concern." "I don't like the idea of only having the existing security present when they show up." "Neither do I, but we don't have much of a choice in this matter." "I will contact you as soon as I have more information." Norman killed the communication. Max was lying when he told Norman that they had insufficient men to increase the security. The truth was that most of the extra manpower was under his control and they were gathering critical pieces of the Machines that were left in the debris. It was a giant conspiracy to create a Machine that would produce attack units for ADIT. Once they had a Machine, they could overthrow the existing Arm Galactic Empire and implant a completely militaristic government. A government in which only a few souls possessed control. It was all about power. Power and control. Those were the only things that mattered in life, and Max was very close to obtaining both. All he needed was the Machine, and his underlings were gathering the information he required to construct one. The prospect of having total dictatorship control was more exhilarating than sleeping with the most beautiful women in the galaxy. He was about to attempt to perform a task that a former Admiral (Max had forgotten his name) had attempted but failed. But Max would succeed where he did not. Max saw the problems in the old Admiral's scheme. The biggest problem was that he tried to capture an existing Machine. Max knew that that would take too long and would be time consuming. Instead, Max was going to build a Machine of his own. There were problems with Max's plan too, but Max knew of them. He thought that if he had an alternate course of action to fall back to, the problems didn't really exist. But there was one that he could not get rid of. There were several men that would be in control once they took over. Max knew that each of the others was devising a course of action that would remove the rest of the men in the circle so that they were the only one to have the control they all desired. Max figured that they could let a small child go for the sake of galactic domination. Max dreamed about how it would feel once he had totalitarian control. In each of these daydreams he was standing on a high pedestal while thousands of people lay abject to his authority. He woke from his brief fantasy. His pants bulged with an erection. He was aroused by the mere possibility of achieving his dream. Then he had second thoughts about just letting the kid and his parents go. That wasn't how a real dictator would handle the matter. A real dictator would kill the parents for interfering with the government and would kill the boy once he had been wrung clean of usefulness. That was how he would deal with this situation, he would be there to watch them die. The thought of exercising the control of an autocrat nearly made him pass out from pleasure. He imagined the face of the parents as he told them that he was the one who ordered the kidnapping of the boy. Once he hit them with that revelation, he would shoot them both. His entire body was shaking in delight. If a secretary or someone else walked into the room right now, it would look as if he was gripped by a seizure. They couldn't know how far from the truth that that was. Now he had the decision of where to shoot them and who to shoot first. It was almost too much. He would shoot them both in the chest, but he would shoot that pretty blonde first and see the torment in that man's eyes as he witnessed the life drain from his wife's body. Then he would kill the man. For several minutes he thought of how it might feel to kill two people, the sheer power that he would hold. He knew that he would hold the greatest power anyone could possibly command, the power over another's life. When his consciousness rose from his self-induced delirium, he noticed that his underwear was stained with semen. He needed to change his underwear so he pressed the intercom button on his desk to open a line to his secretary. He told her that he was leaving for his lunch break, and that he would be back in an hour. He had intentions of eating, but first he went to his cabin and slipped into a fresh pair of underwear. He took the soiled pair and threw them in his pile of dirty clothes. He decided that he would eat lunch in the cafeteria.
Louis was wondering how anybody could follow these outrageous orders. Two other parties of men had already been sent after the Ham family. The thought that his colleagues even attempted to carry out these orders made Paul sick to his stomach. Then Paul remembered that when anyone joins ADIT, a small device is implanted into their brain. The cerebral interruption device. Paul had done a little illegal investigating into ADIT's computers. The cerebral interruption device, or CID, emits a small burst of electricity into the part of the brain that controls the conscience of the person. So that when they are given an order they will follow it to the letter if their CID is activated. But there was a problem with them. They also interfered with their ability to make rational decisions in a state of emergency. That was why the other groups were killed. They couldn't make proper decisions that the situation called for. Somehow, Louis had to find a way to not kill the Ham's and not to have his CID activated. He could not think straight. His mind was cluttered with panicked thoughts that showed no sign of quitting. But the CID also had a limited transmission range. If he could get out of that range, he would be safe from control. But Louis didn't know that range.
5
The time in the cabin was ticking away slower than Emily had thought possible. The hours that passed seemed like days. Looking up at the clock, expecting it to read five o'clock or later, she was stunned that it showed that the hands pointed towards twelve thirty. She let out a sigh of frustration. She was tempted to rip the clock off the wall and shake it to pieces as if she could will time to flow faster. She remained in control and did not tear the timepiece from its moorings on the wall. Gary and Paul were still discussing how they would enter the facility and retrieve Chris. Emily could care less how they got her little boy back, just as long as they got him back. The process meant nothing to her, but she knew that they would tell her what they were going to do so she would not have to be talked through it while they were executing their plan. Emily sat quietly at the end of the kitchen table sipping some black coffee and waited. She waited in a silence that seemed to have a life of its own.
"Cruisers within range, sir!" Mike Wells shouted, raising his voice over the nearly constant rattle of the ship as it was being pelted with laser fire from all around. "Target the closest one and fire the quantum laser!" Captain Richards commanded. It took the quantum laser a few seconds to charge completely. The high- pitched hum of the electrons becoming excited was hardly audible over the louder crashes of the ship being attacked if you pressed your ear against the wall that separated the laser's chamber from the rest of the ship. The sapphire colored laser fired and made contact with its target nearly instantaneously. The laser only lasted a few seconds but the damage was wrought. The cruiser split in two and exploded. Bright blue flames covered the wreckage, as it was slowly fell to pieces and collapsed with another explosion. Not all of the pieces that exploded contained an explosive or combustible material. Those phenomena were because of the side effects of the quantum laser. The quantum laser caused the material's electrons that it struck to become super-excited. Thus it made the material highly explosive. Though the impact area of the laser was only five yards across, the side effect was carried throughout the entire target, but the larger the target, the less of an effect the beam had. That was why all of the Enterprises had to fire upon the Machines. It was too large for a single quantum laser.
Herald didn't see the "Victory" fire its quantum laser, but he saw the ramifications of the beam. The Core cruiser exploded emitting a shockwave that was felt by every ship in the battlefield. His ship shuttered but held together sustaining very little inherent hull damage. With the "Victory" now fighting toe-to-toe in the battle, the odds just got a little better. But the "Victory" could not stay in this proximity for very long. Because of its monolithic stature every shot that was fired in its direction found its mark. Its hull integrity was dropping steadily. It may be able to last another five, maybe seven minutes tops in this unrelenting assault. After blasting a Core fighter and sending it to hell, Herald glanced at his radar. There was a huge mass of green contacts in the center of the screen, but a small dot registered well out of the battlefield. Herald's first thought that it was a crippled Core fighter that had drifted away from the battle. He knew it couldn't be a Pulsar because they had stealth plating, and it couldn't be an Enterprise, because the only one that had moved was the "Victory." Then the thing changed direction. That nullified the crippled fighter theory. Curious, he set out after it. Flying by the odd Core fighter slowly, Herald took a risk by decelerating. But when he sailed by the queer fighter without incident, Herald was disconcerted. Why hadn't the thing attacked him? He thought that maybe it had accidentally slipped into return fire mode. Herald lined up the stable target and fired. The lasers made contact on the ships starboard side, but it did not return fire or change course. It couldn't have slipped into hold fire mode because Core units were purged of that option long before the final years of the war, because they kept falling into hold fire mode in the middle of battle. So the Core Consciousness extracted that arbitrary setting. Herald believed that knowing your enemy was critical in making decisions in the heat of battle. Now, his research was paying off, but he still could not reason why the fighter was not defending itself. Then a question popped into his mind that had no logical basis. Was it defective? The production technology that the Core had possessed surely was adequate to produce a million units without a flaw in any of them. But he was staring at a faulted creation. How was this possible?
6
"No! I can't tell them where they are! You can't make me!" The voice coming from inside the sensory deprivation chamber was muffled a great deal but it was still audible. "Continue the probing, Dr. Terrell." Max stood in the far corner of the room that housed the sensory deprivation chamber that contained the kid. He had arrived just minutes ago, but he was not going to leave until the parents arrived and were dead. Dr. Terrell was an immense human being. To call him fat would be giving him a complement. He was obese. The rolls of fat hung over his tight pants like eaves overhanging a wraparound terrace. However, wraparound terraces are architecturally tasteful. This man's disgusting flab was not tasteful in the least. He reminded Max of a marshmallow that had been heated and resultantly swollen out of proportions. Dr. Terrell turned and looked at Max. His face was badly aged. He looked to be about seventy, but in reality he was only in his early fifties. Max was surprised that he had lived this long. His round face was accented by hideous globs of fat that almost dangled from the man's cheeks. He spoke. "I have made the connection, we can see most of what he's thinking." When the man spoke his face quivered like he was in an earthquake. The vibrations carried all the way down his throat making it shake like a baby's rattle. Resisting the urge to vomit Max hesitantly walked over to the computer he was working at. Max could smell the sweat that poured from the obese man's pores. The stench made Max want to run for the door, but he repressed that urge. "So what's he thinking?" "Well, we won't be able to see all of what he's thinking. The technology is still quite primitive. But we may be able to find where his parents are by asking him where they are." His face jiggled with every syllable he enunciated. Trying not to look at him Max said, "It's that simple?" "Normally it is. Since we are dealing with a child, we should be able to acquire the information you need." More undulations. "Well then what are you waiting for? Ask him." Max was growing impatient. Speaking into the microphone that transmitted his voice into the chamber that harbored the child. "Where are your parents?" He asked the question with more clarity than necessary, laboring over every sound so that the kid would not misinterpret him. The response was nearly instantaneous. "GET OUT! LEAVE ME, ALONE!" Those were the words that echoed hollowly off the walls. But the computer readout gave them completely different results. GET.can't tell.ME.where.ALONE.are The screen was reading a mix of what he was saying and what he was thinking. "The machine must be confused since he's thinking and speaking at the same time." The doctor stated the completely obvious with more oscillations in his facial skin. They're trying to see what I'm thinking. "What the hell?!" Dr. Terrell shouted. "He can't possibly know that we have tapped into his conscious!" When the man yelled, his throat and face shook with the fury of a storm tossed sea. "Maybe you damaged something." Max offered a possibility that might explain the recent happenings. "No, that's impossible. I can miss the target a thousand times punching through a billion nerve cells, but it doesn't inflict any damage at all, because the device is smaller than the nucleus and therefore any damage it causes is so miniscule the body doesn't even register it and it gets repaired too quickly to cause even the slightest scar tissue." Can't think, about that place. Mountains. NO! STOP! Can't let them hurt Mommy. That tear-shaped lake. STOP! NO THINKING! No thinking about that place. Think of something else. Favorite song. The boy began to run through the lyrics of a classic rock song from the seventies on earth. Max had heard of that song before but he could not place it. No matter. The boy had given clues to where they were hiding out. He phoned his agents to look for a tear-shaped lake with mountains nearby near the Ham's place of residence. They would get him an answer quickly and would relay that to the strike team being sent there as they spoke. He gave orders that they are not to kill them on sight. Max changed their orders to capture them and bring them to him. The strike team may think it odd, but those were the orders and they had no choice but to follow them. Closing the communication Max sat in a stool by the lab table. Running over the same old ground. What have we found? Same old fears. Wish you were here. Even without the music accompanying the lyrics Max eventually identified the song as Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here." It was an average song, too soft for Max's taste. He preferred the hard, earsplitting rock chords of the death metal bands of the Earth's nineties. He liked the music that got his adrenaline pumping with their relentless, uncoordinated notes. To him, that music represented reality perfectly. Reality was as harmonized as the random thrashing of a tree's leaves being swept in a violent storm. "Should we keep his thoughts under surveillance?" The behemoth doctor asked. Max had put his back to him so he didn't have to see his trembling blubber on his throat. But it did not help too much, Max was cursed with a vivid imagination. When the doctor spoke he could still "see" the quivering tissue. "Yes. We may find something else that could be useful." Max said, trying to repress the image of the fat man in his mind. "Very well. I'm hungry, I'll be going to the cafeteria for lunch." Dr. Terrell exited the lab. He don't need to eat, Max thought to himself, he could live for weeks on his own fat. Sitting at the lab table, watching the screen scroll down, revealing the child's thoughts. He repeated the same song four times then he jumped into another. Just about a year ago, I set out on the road. This song was alien to Max. Obviously, the kid was raised with that type music and it grew on him. Oh, Lord. Stuck in Lodi again.
On the tail of an elusive Core fighter, Herald had forgotten about the stray he had found. His Rapier missiles were in the process of reloading so he fired the disrupter cannons at the slower fighter. The shots erupted from the laser's barrels with a short banshee shriek. Only Herald heard this noise because the metallic armor was a perfect conductor for the sound and the vacuum of space resisted the transmission of sound. The nanolathes that produced the Rapier missiles were working overtime. The nanolathes received its metal and energy sources from the Enterprises. Though only a finite amount could be stored on the Pulsar, its tanks could be refilled simply by coupling with one of the multiple resupply pods that the Enterprises had on board. A single tank-full of energy and metal could last hours under heavy battle conditions. The only reason the pods existed was in case one of the Pulsars was experiencing a resource leak or several other various contingencies that might fall upon the Pulsars. "Come on." He was growing impatient waiting for the missiles to be finished being constructed. He could fire the incomplete missile now, but it would be a total waste. The uncompleted ballistic would dissipate into trillions molecules, because the nanomachines had not yet connected all of the molecules into a single object. The only thing that Herald would gain from that would be pleasing his trigger finger. Hundreds of fighters battled all around him, explosions cluttered the battlefield like autumn leaves cluttered the ground in expectation of a cold winter. The risk of a mid-flight collision was very high. There was a good chance that one of your buddies could misjudge the distance he had to stop, or just didn't see you and WHAM, both your ships tear into each other like hungry wolves into a wounded rabbit. There wouldn't be much left of either ship since the anti-matter engines would rupture. The only thing that would mark where you perished would be the short-lived flash of light that occurred when anti-matter and matter combined. "Hurry up, damn you." Herald cursed the machine. He had a strong lock, all he needed now were the missiles. The computer flashed a message that meant the missiles were ready. Almost in the same instance he saw the screen flash ready, his fingers closed on the trigger that released the missiles from their bays. The ship kicked backward slightly as the Rapiers raced toward the Core fighter. The fighter tried to pull sideways and evade the missiles but the outdated vessel stood no chance. The missiles struck its engines rocketing debris hundreds of yards ahead of its final position. Glancing at his radar again to find another target Herald saw at least a dozen of Core fighters had drifted away from the battlefield. He didn't check any of them out, because he was sure that all of them were in the same condition as the first stray he found. In just a few minutes, the number of erred Core fighters had multiplied drastically. He could accept that the first stray he saw was deficient, but he could not believe that so many had been manifested defective. With a morbid curiosity Herald flew towards the Machine to inspect the fighters it was producing. Flying through the melee, he encountered another passive Core fighter. It slowly drifted away from him. Herald followed the peculiar fighter for a few seconds until it was literally vaporized by a shot from one of the "Victory's" anti-fighter cannons. His attention back to the Machine, Herald turned his Pulsar around one hundred eighty degrees. He fended off a few attacking Core fighters. Why were there so many of the fighters faulty? Herald couldn't answer that question. Unless.
Ten minutes until landing. Louis felt his stomach tie itself in a knot. He knew he couldn't bring himself to kill another human being, he would not hesitate to kill a machine, but taking away a human life was entirely different. He would be a murderer. Becoming a murderer was something that he was not prepared to do. He looked over at Elise, who was sitting next to him. She looked as if she was lost in the same runaway train of thought that had gripped him and took him along for the ride. He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed it assuredly, though he was not sure how assuring his touch could be in his state of mind. Elise looked at his hand then at him. A look of worry lined her face. She managed to give him a thin smile. Louis retracted his hand and Elise returned to her cluttered thoughts. The shuttle they were on was very fast. It took them only forty minutes to cover what the Enterprises covered in eight hours. However, the Enterprise class frigates were not designed for speed and this vessel was. The four members of the strike team were jammed in a small seating area. The intercom crackled to life, breaking everybody from their thoughts. "There's a change in your orders. You are to capture the parents, not to kill them, repeat, do NOT kill the parents, they are to be taken alive to the facility on Eridanious. If there is anybody else in the cabin shoot them on sight. Update, we have a fix on their location and currently have a surveillance satellite watching them this minute." Louis felt a great weight lifted from his chest. He didn't have to kill them after all. But then a rush of negativity fell over him like a breaking wave. Something was wrong. Normally, these were search and destroy missions, but they were to capture these people now. Louis didn't know what it was, but he knew that they could not arrest them. He felt that a fate worse than death awaited them if they were captured. Somehow, he had to sabotage this mission.
The Machine loomed over Herald's Pulsar forbiddingly. When Herald finally beheld the full stature of the macabre complex the rest of his world seemed to disappear. The monstrous structure seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Herald stared in awe at the Machine for several seconds. It was the type of awe that people show when they witness a horrible murder, or when someone plummets to their death from a high rooftop. Those precious seconds were wasted. Snapping himself out of his almost trace-like state, Herald remembered why he had come this close to the Machine. To investigate the fighters it was creating. He didn't have to wait long, fighters were popping out every second in an almost continuous stream. Herald watched in amazement as all of the fighters drifted away from the Machine, all of them passive. How many of the fighters already in the battle were like this already? He asked himself. He thought about contacting the "Odysseus," his mother ship, and reporting his findings. But he quickly rejected that idea, he would need more proof than his word to convince them. He began to make theories while looking for proof of his claims. Maybe the Machine is running out of resources and that's causing the fighters to become defective. Herald rejected that idea as soon as he remembered that this Machine would more than likely have fusion plants as its energy source, and devices that produced metal. Maybe something happened to the main computer inside that thing. No, that couldn't be it either he told himself. Because nothing hit the Machine hard enough to inflict that much damage, and the main computer was probably deep within the Machine itself. Continuing his search for some sort of proof to show that there was something wrong with the Machine, while dog fighting the active core fighters, and while trying to think of a theory that would explain and lay proof to his claim.
7
Emily had not moved from her seat at the kitchen table. Her cup of coffee was empty and the contents had begun to dry at the bottom, but she still held it in her hands as if the porcelain mug could grant her absolution. Her gaze fixed on the light switch across the room, she thought she saw its shadow twitch. She broke from her daze and looked around. At first she thought an external source had caused the shadowy anomaly. But when her quick search had failed to locate anything that could change the objects umbra. She became disconcerted. Then as if on cue, all of the shadows in the room shifted. Startled, Emily tried to stand, but could not. Then the shadows darkened. Emily tried to call out to Paul, but her voice caught in her throat. The only sound she produced was the wheezing from the air escaping her mouth, hardly loud enough to carry two feet, let alone all the way into the living room where Paul sat. An ominous sensation of impending danger surged through her. It was like the icy touch of death pumping through her veins. She shivered though the air was warm. Her fingers felt numb with the sudden unset of the frigged waves flowing from within. Something was coming. She could feel it. It was like shards of frozen glass racking across her skin.
The excruciatingly long wait for the quantum laser to cool down enough to fire again was unbearable. Time seemed to slow down, every second ticked by reluctantly, dragging unwanted anticipation across Captain Richards' wary mind. The way time drags by when people desperately desire it to speed by, and the manner in which it blows by when it's wished that it proceed slower. Sitting in his Captain's chair, Richards sweating nervously as the brutal seconds as they drifted by. His eyes fixed on the gauge that displayed the core temperature of the quantum laser located on the bank of computers attached to the ceiling of the bridge. That bank of computers was more to display the hundreds of functions that were occurring throughout the ship.
Tension had gripped Richards by the neck and injected its poison. He could feel his fingers dig into the steel of the armrests on his chair. Without even looking at them, Richards knew his knuckles were pure white. His eyes were probably open wide and riddled with red veins. No, not probably, he knew. When at last he saw the screen flash ready, his brain almost blew apart in his skull. The agonizingly long thirty-second wait was over. With a shrill, almost raspy voice, he shouted at the top of lungs, "FIRE!" When he blurted that single, over-exaggerated word he flung his body forward, showering the grated floor in front of him with a flurry of sweat. The quantum laser fired at the second cruiser. Just like the first cruiser that fell victim to the quantum laser it exploded violently, sending a shockwave ripping through the battlefield. Two cruisers down, three to go. Why hadn't the Machine produced any more cruisers? The incessant punishment that had pounded the "Victory" felt like it was beginning to die down, but when Richards looked at the radar and saw that the number of contacts had risen to over five hundred he knew that couldn't be possible. He was just getting used to the constant vibrating of the ship from the laser and missile impacts. However, when he looked at the hull integrity readout, the amount of damage the ship was receiving had dropped off. That wasn't possible, if anything, that rate should have risen. It wasn't making any sense to Richards. "Sir," Morris said, "We're receiving a communication from one of the fighters." "Is it one of ours?" Richards asked, meaning if the ship belonged to his Enterprise or another. "It's from the 'Odysseus.' The pilot sounds like he's on drugs or something." "Put it on audio, Morris." Richards commanded. "Sir." The speakers around the bridge popped and sizzled with static as the pilot's voice came across, though it was still discernable. "Someone, for the love of God, answer me!" Speaking to the pilot, Richards tried to discover why the pilot had gone onto an emergency frequency. "This is the 'Victory,' state your name." "Oh, thank God. Someone answered me. Herald Rager." The disturbance was beginning to decrease as Morris tinkered with the controls on his computer. "Why are you on the emergency frequency? You better have one good reason." Richards warned. "The fighters the Machine is making are faulty."
Watching the screen real out endless lyrics to songs, most of which Max had never heard of, he received a call on his mobile phone. "Hello." He said quickly as he activated the reception on the device. "Max, Morris." The man on the other line identified himself as one of Max's agents. "I've learned something that you may want to know." Max knew that Morris was on the "Victory" which was currently in the heat of a battle with one of the Machine's. The spaceship was probably over three hundred light years away, but they talked back and forth like they were sitting next to each other. This was made possible by a special device and frequency that was used to carry the message in. The device and frequency worked together to harness unstable gravity waves that were emitted by planets, stars, and other celestial bodies to literally propel the messages through space faster than the speed of light. The resultant was a method of interplanetary communications without the long waits. Before, it would take as many years in time as the two points in which the communication was separated by in light years. Max's current conversation with Morris would have been impossible to undertake because it would take over six hundred years for each person to say hello. "What is it?" "There's a problem with the Machines." "What kind of problem?" "After a certain amount of time it just starts to produce defective units. We don't know why, but we think it has something to do with the coolant system." "This is disturbing. If we can't fix that error with them, we may never be able to overthrow the government." This had thrown a wrench into his plan to become dictator. His mood grew dark nearly the same instant he heard the bad news. "There is some good news." "Well let's hear it." Max wanted to hear anything that may shine some light to brighten his souring mood. "The Machine we are at now is only producing faulty units. They don't attack. The units just fly around in circles." "Get to the point." "If we can gain control of the Enterprises, we may be able to keep this Machine for you intact." Possessing a Machine that was, for the moment, passive, would shorten his plan by several months. That is because he would not have to build a Machine, he would only have to rewrite this one's formatting. "Do it. Contact the other agents there and commandeer the Enterprises. I want you to bring that thing in tow to the construction site." "Yes, sir." Morris killed the conversation. He looked at the sphere that contained the child. "Soon, my boy. You're parents are coming, and then you'll be free." He waited anxiously for the arrival of the parents. He was like a little child the night before Christmas. The screen kept rolling away with lyrics. Remember when the days were long, the world beneath the deep blue sky. Didn't have a care in the world. With mommy and daddy standing by. Max didn't know this one either. Why couldn't the kid think of something he knew? Just lay your head back on the ground, let your hair spin all around me. Offer up your best defense, this is the end, this is the end of the innocence. The screen kept rolling.
Laying in the darkness, Chris filled his thoughts with the lyrics of his favorite songs. He had gone through Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," CCR's "Lodi," and he was playing Don Henley's "The End of the Innocence" right now. All of the songs seemed fitting for his situation, but he wished he could think the lyrics longer. Without the music the songs were only good for ninety seconds at most. Tears began to well in his eyes as he thought through the lyrics of "The End of the Innocence." He hadn't realized it before when he heard this song, but it was the most truthful song that he had heard. It was about how cruel the real world was in comparison to the life of a child, and how everybody dreams of being a child once again. And here Chris was, eight years old and making a connection that most adults had difficulty making, but Chris would rather not have made this connection. It depressed him. Eight years old and he is contemplating life, when he should be frivolously playing the days away in an ignorant bliss. Chris knew that he was changed, forever from this dreadful experience. He knew that once you learn something, you cannot unlearn it. He was terrified of what he had learned. Eight years old and wiser than a man of twenty.
The conversation with Herald had lifted the intense anxiety from Richards' chest. He had forgotten about the quantum laser, the cruisers, and the battle hammering the "Victory" on all sides. There was hope. Only some of those fighters out there were attacking. That was why the ship felt like it was vibrating less than it was, not because he was becoming accustomed to the relentless assault. Hope glowed like the sun rising over the horizon on a dew-covered field. Richards stood, or rather sat, in the warming light of discovery. He remembered a quote that he heard sometime in his childhood, but he could not remember who said it. Nothing is as it seems, yet everything is more than it seems. That quote fit their situation perfectly. "Morris." Richards spoke to the communications officer in a commanding yet peaceful tone. "Yes, sir?" His voice was wavering. He seemed detached. "Open me a link to all of our fighters." Richards wanted to speak to the entire armada of Pulsars. Hitting multiple buttons and throwing a few switches, Morris executed the proper sequences to grant the Captain his wish. "Done." "This is Captain Richards of the 'Victory.' We have made a discovery that is crucial to our defeating the Machine. We have discovered that the Machine we are assailing has been producing fighters of a faulty nature. Thus, only a percentage of them are attacking us. The defective fighters are totally passive. I order you to only attack the aggressive fighters; if it doesn't shoot at you, don't attack it, you will only be wasting your time. And time is not something we are in great supply of." Richards cut off the communication from his chair.
The Pulsars ceased their firing so they could listen to Richards give his statement. Following his orders all of the pilots sought out the aggressive Core fighters and began to systematically destroy them. The tides of the battle changed so suddenly the Core fighters seemed to become frightened. Though that would be impossible because they are incapable of feeling. They are merely robots and are not really people anymore. Though their programming was based on actual brains of people that had existed several thousand years ago they were not considered living even by the most liberal of thinkers, because their souls, the very essence of existence, had left this plane for another. This justified their destruction to every single person that had raised a weapon against this faceless foe. The active Core fighters were found and destroyed mercilessly, mainly because mercy could only be showed to conscious beings, and these 'things' were far from being conscious. Explosions still clouded every corner of the battlefield, but their inflection had altered from one of ominous obliteration to a feeling of righteousness. For several minutes the Core fighters fought in vain only to be destroyed in a multitude of detonating missiles and flashes of intense laser fire. All that remained now was the passive fighters that buzzed around aimlessly, harmless to the gargantuan Enterprise frigates. They were like pesky gnats, causing no damage at all to the massive vessels, just floating around, an annoyance. The anti-fighter cannons and Pulsars made quick and easy work of the bothersome defects. More brilliant explosions flashed across the emptiness of space. Soon all of the existing Core fighters were destroyed and the "Victory" was blasting the new fighters as they exited the hanger. Now all that remain to destroy was the Machine itself. The Enterprises began to move into position so they could destroy the Machine more efficiently. They would be perched around the Machine on all sides to give the greatest amount of fire coverage. It would take several long minutes for all of the Enterprises to align in their firing position.
Morris had contacted all of the agents on the other Enterprises to coordinate their undermanned mutiny. Their plan was to take complete control over the bridge of every Enterprise. The bridge was the location for the control of the quantum laser, and by taking control of the bridge they would stop the destruction of the Machine so they could follow through with Max's plan. They would wait for the Enterprises to reach their respective destinations before they would launch their scheme. It would probably only take twenty seconds to completely take over every bridge of every Enterprise, because Max had agents on the bridges of every Enterprise. All of the agents were armed with a miniature fully automatic laser pistol, very similar to the Earth's Uzi. Their plan was to kill the Captain and flush every other person on the bridge out into the hallway and trap them there between the blast doors. Once the agents were alone on the respective bridges, they would lock the door leading onto the bridge and commandeer the giant ships to use as they wished. A simple plan could not fail, and their plan was as simple a plan as plans could become.
Emily tried to rid herself of the ominous feeling that she felt when the shadows around her grew darker, but she could not. She was sure something was coming to get them, but she was afraid that Gary would not believe her and thusly would not help them get their son back. She kept telling herself that that thought was only the worry of a mother that wanted her son back more than anything. Gary would help them no matter what, but Emily still couldn't risk him thinking she was crazy. So she kept her feelings inside, bottled up. Paul walked into the kitchen to fetch himself a cup of coffee. Emily must have had a distressed appearance because as soon as he looked upon her he said, "What's wrong?" He sounded concerned. "Nothing." She lied. She hated it when she lied, but she couldn't risk Gary overhearing her. That was a stupid thought. Gary wouldn't, or shouldn't, care what she felt. Emily sat with her head hung a little low to hide her revealing eyes from Paul and with her hands in her lap so he would not see them shaking. Paul moved closer, sat in the vacant chair diagonally to Emily's left. He touched Emily's arm gently, yet reassuringly. In a soft, caring tone he said, "Please don't hide from me Emily." Emily remembered that on their wedding night they promised not to hide anything from each other. That promise had kept them from repressing their emotions until they exploded. She knew that he would press until she would tell him what was troubling her, so she saved him the effort and opened up right then. "I think we're in danger." "What do you mean 'in danger'?" Paul said inquisitively with a touch of worry in his words. "I don't know what it is, but I think something out there is coming after us. Right now I mean." Emily confessed in a monotonic voice. "It's just worry." Paul said trying to soothe her, but not sounding sure of his excuse himself. "No. It's not worry. If we don't get out of here, and I mean now whatever is coming after us is going to stop us even before we can save Chris." Emily's voice started out strong and full of adamancy, but at the end, when she thought about not being able to save Chris, her voice cracked and wavered with the unset of tears. She repressed those tears with a little effort. "Ok, we'll get out of here." When Paul saw Emily get near the brink of crying he knew she was entirely convinced that something was coming to get them. He knew she could "see" brief clips of the future or "feel" things that have not happened yet so he was positive that what she said was genuine. He stood and hustled into the living room and announced that they had to get out of here. "What do you mean, we have to get out of here?!" Gary said in almost a defiant tone. Turning to face Gary, Paul loomed over the meeker man. "Don't argue with me. We're leaving." He turned away and gathered what few items they could use. Emily was relieved that Paul had not told Gary why they were leaving. Maybe subconsciously they could tell what one another are thinking. Paul grabbed the laser pistol and rifle and ushered Helen out to the hover car. Emily stood. She was hampered by the soreness in her leg, which was the sole reason that they were going to retrieve Chris tomorrow and not today. Gary looked confused and intimidated. He followed Paul out the door. Their haste to leave the cabin seemed unnecessary but Paul did not want to take any chances, because Emily's foresights were not always impeccable with their timing. Limping noticeably, Emily favored her right leg. When she at last arrived at the hover car, the rear passenger door was open for her. She climbed, quickly, into the vehicle and slammed the door. Paul shifted into reverse, slammed the accelerator and whipped the car around one hundred eighty degrees. Shifting the car back into drive, he pressed the accelerator to the floor. The only wound that signified that the engine was being pushed hard was a faint whine emitting from the bottom of the vehicle. There was no squeal of tires on pavement, since there was no pavement and more importantly, the hover car had no wheels. The car flew up the gravel road and headed towards the main highway. There they would have to find another haven for the night.
Would you know my name, if I saw you in Heaven? Would it be the same, if I saw you in Heaven? Staring at the computer screen Max had another daydream of being in complete control. This time he had a position that he could not discern from the vague details of the brief reverie. Walking down the street, wearing garments that he could not describe, he strode with the confidence of a king. As he passed the people toiling with their daily chores they all stopped what they were doing, knelt and bowed their heads in obedience. The ones that did not demonstrate their loyalty, either because they did not care or because they did not see him, were immediately beheaded. No blood flowed from the exposed arteries or veins from either dismembered part. Then he saw the parents of the boy. They were standing in front of him, with fear engraved into their faces deeper than Max had ever seen before. The father reached behind his back. Max was wrenched from his pleasant dream before he could see the finale, which left him as angry as a hornet. The shrill resonance of his mobile phone ringing had snapped him from his daze. He answered the phone just to silence the annoying ring that was sending piercing vibrations up his spine. "Hello." He said in an agitated tone of voice. "We have a problem. The parents are on the move." "What?!" "We are tracking them with the satellite and we are currently preparing the strike team for whatever they may need to capture them." "Good." Max said and shut the communication off right there. Then he proceeded to turn off the ringer on his mobile phone so he could daydream with being disturbed. 'Cause I know, there'll be even more tears in heaven.
The Enterprises slowly positioning themselves around the Machine reminded Richards of proud hunters examining their helpless prey before moving in for the kill. He had a premonition of impeding danger but he repressed it. He did not believe in any of that foresight garbage, it was only his nerves giving him trouble. But Morris was acting a little edgy. No, it is all in your head. He told himself. He had to be levelheaded to run this ship properly, besides he could not make unjust accusations based on a gut feeling. He checked the radar to try and gauge how much longer till the ships were in position, two minutes he guessed. That meant this Machine would be dead in no more than three. Relief began to saturate into his blood. It was warm and soothing, like a hot bath after a long, strenuous day of hard labor. Morris stood. Why was he standing? He probably had to go piss or shit. No, something was wrong. This time the feeling just wasn't in him, it hung in the air like moisture after a summer rain. Richards could not draw breath. No matter how hard his lungs pulled, no life-giving oxygen would rush inside. Then he realized that his mouth was clamped shut so tightly that his jaw muscles began to ache. Morris whipped around. He had a gun! Richards tried to hit the button to call for security, but Morris opened fire and four shots caught him in his abdomen. Pain flared from his chest like a napalm-fueled flame. Two of the shots tore through his intestines and what remained of them fell out into his lap. The other two shots struck him in the middle of his chest. Crimson blood gushed from his wounds rapidly; an artery had been hit. Richards couldn't hear anything around him, people seemed to be shouting in terror, but no sounds came from their gaping mandibles. Richards could feel a blackness pulling at him, he did not want to fall into it but his strength failed him and he plummeted into the pit, a white light shone at the bottom. He swore he could hear someone with an angelic voice telling him to go into the light. Like I have much of a choice. Richards thought to himself. The light swallowed him.
After flushing the last of the crewmembers off the bridge and into the hallway he sealing the door shut. Morris threw the weapon to the floor and checked the Captains' pulse. Holding the mans' cold wrist, he knew the man was dead even without taking his pulse. There was enough blood around Richards limp body to ascertain that he had not had an instantaneous death. His lifeless eyes gazed out into the world with a look of agony permanently engraved into them. Then he walked to the bank of computers located in the middle of the room. He made a link to his communications computer and several others from here so he could run the entire bridge on this bank of computers.
Orville stood from his weapons control computer and reached inside his uniform for the weapon that he was given. From behind him Captain Dumas shouted, "Mr. Orville! Get back to your post!" Orville never liked Dumas. He tore the gun from his shirt, spun around and fired a spray of shots towards the detestable captain. Several shots missed but two made contact, one with his arm and the other tore into Dumas' face and exiting the back of his head. Dumas was killed as soon as that bolt of energy splattered his brains all over the wall behind him. There wasn't much blood but Orville grew sick to his stomach. As he commanded that everybody leave the bridge, he tried not to look at the faceless corpse that was once his captain. As he escorted the frightened crew into the hallway, he tried not to pass to close to the dead man, because he was afraid that he would magically come back to life and kill him. Childish fear, but this was the first time Orville ever killed another human being. He followed the orders that Morris had given him and patched every computer in the bridge into the main computer in the center so he could control the entire ship from there.
Morris stood and awaited confirmation of the other mutinies. He didn't have to wait long, they poured in one after another. Every Enterprise was now in their control. Max would soon be the undisputed ruler of the old Arm Galactic Empire and they were going along for the ride. Now the problem was getting the Machine to its destination. The tractor beams were too weak and the tow cables were not tested at the speeds they would be stressed against to get the gargantuan cargo to the site on time. This would be the most difficult undertaking during their operation. Morris could not understand why he wanted them to tow the Machine to the build site. He was expecting him to order them to go inside the Machine and hack into the computer for the information they desired. But towing the whole thing, Morris couldn't understand.
8
The reentry had gone perfectly, and they were right in position to ambush the hover car as it passed by them on the highway. The interception point was a mile away. The path they would have to follow was directly through dense forest. If Louis had the direction finder equipment he could easily sabotage the mission by simply going the wrong way. Walking over fallen trees and through prickly bushes, the strike team drew closer to their destination. For Louis every step he took was a step closer to damnation. Every step he took without discovering a way to sabotage this mission his heart grew heavier. All four members of the strike team were wearing full body armor to protect themselves against the weapons their "enemy" had, but you could only see a slight bulge in their camouflaged clothing. They each had a fully automatic weapon that was powerful enough to blow holes through buildings and a smaller laser pistol with a laser sighting and loaded with armor piercing rounds. However, the weapon that would cripple the vehicle with was a low-yield rocket launcher. The original plan was for them to use that to destroy their means of escape and then crash the cabin. Now all that was changed since their orders were changed from search and destroy to capture and was further complicated by their untimely departure of their quarry from the cabin. Now they would utilize the rocket launcher to knock the life out of the hover car. Once the vehicle was neutralized, they would quickly surround the car and bring the parents in for questioning, or whatever reason they were needed for, and to kill anybody else in the vehicle. For several minutes they walked through the endless array of trees and other planet life. Then Louis saw the highway. Hell was only a hundred yards away.
Paul frantically pushed the hover to its limits. Whipping it like a plush toy around blind curves with reckless abandon. The needle on the speedometer was topping out. Paul had put the top up so air resistance would be minimized, but the top was rattling against the where it made contact with the windshield, from the air biting into the frame of the car and attempting to force it slower. He responded by pressing the accelerator to the floor. The car shot forward. He needed to put as much distance between them and the cabin as possible as fast as possible. Even though Emily's foresight had bad timing and the danger had already passed, Paul didn't want to take any chances.
Crouching in the bushes off the broad side of a turn in the highway, Louis and the rest of his team were waiting for their objective to hurtle towards them. The resolution Louis sought for remained as elusive as ever. He had to think fast, the car would be appearing around the bend any second now. "Target incoming." Elise announced solemnly, but only Louis caught that solemnity, the two other people there heard boredom. Emotional tones in the voice can be as relative as an object's apparent size. Meaning, you can take a penny place it next to a grain of sand and the penny would appear immense in comparison, but take that same penny and put it in your hand, it looks much smaller than it did than when it was beside the grain of sand. However, emotional tones have much more complexity in their true meanings than the size of the penny. It was too late for Louis to think of a plan, he would now have to improvise. Walsh, one of the other members of the team, waited for his opportunity to fire the rocket and cripple the oncoming car.
Emily felt an ice pick run right through her chest. The coldness seeped through her body more frantically than she ever felt henceforth. Almost reflexively, she shouted, "STOP!" She was almost convinced that her voice would come out shaky as if she had spent hours in a snow bank clad in nothing more than jeans and a t-shirt, but it was as strong as it ever was.
Paul immediately slammed the brakes and the hover car came to an abrupt halt. Emily didn't have to say why she commanded that Paul stop because he saw the smoke trail of a rocket as it hurled towards them. Trying not to panic, he shifted into reverse and slammed his foot on the accelerator, but he was not fast enough, the rocket slammed into the hood of the hover car. Throwing his hands defensively in front of his face, knowing too well that placing that little amount of protection in front of his face would be useless. If the rocket's explosion didn't kill them, the shrapnel from the engine would shred them to pieces. Paul couldn't believe that it would end like this. Everything was happening is slow motion. Helen screamed from the backseat. Emily stared with widening eyes as the rocket struck the hood of the hover car. The vehicle was thrown forward sharply. Paul felt his harness pull tightly across his chest. The car struck the ground with the whine of tortured metal abrading against pavement and more metal. Paul opened his eyes. He was alive! No pain flared from any part of his body except for where his harness had gripped him. Looking quickly around the car he saw that everyone was okay for the most part. Relief rushed through him. But then he came to realize that whoever fired that rocket would not leave them for dead, they would make sure they had perished. They had to get out of the car, and fast. "Get out of the car!" Paul shouted. Nobody needed to be told again. They tore their seatbelts off then threw the doors open. The step out of the vehicle was short because it was no longer floating. Stepping out in a mid-run Emily heard weapon fire and she immediately fell to the ground. Paul and the others did the same, but they were on the opposing side of the car. Instead of running behind the car where Paul would be, she scrambled for the brush on the roadside. Metal shrieked as energy bolts smashed in to them. Helen, Gary and Paul lay flat on the pavement, making as small as a target of themselves as they could. Their assailant's weapons must have been powerful, because the shots punched through the hover car with ease. They were stuck in a raging river without a paddle, or a boat.
From her foliage crowded hiding spot, Emily could see nothing of the hover car, Paul, or anybody else. She felt alone where she was, though she was probably safer where she was than behind the downed car. Here, she could play a game of hide and seek with their enemy, but where Paul was, the only thing they could do was fire back with what weapons they had. The latter didn't seem any more alluring than the former, since they would be outgunned. Despite all the noisy gunfire, Emily could still hear Helen screaming. It was like a knife thrusting into her heart. Emily wanted to soothe her daughter, but she couldn't get near her. Emily just laid in the dirt and endured the emotional torture.
Paul had led Helen and Gary to the rear of the vehicle. He wanted to get the guns out of the trunk so he could defend their position. He had to wait for them to reload, or a break in the shooting to risk opening the hatch else he take an energy bolt through the abdomen.
Walsh and Harvey were the only two firing their weapons. They were only supposed to pin them down while Elise and Louis crept around behind them and capture them. This was the opportunity Louis was waiting for. He wasn't sure how he could exploit it, but he would think of something.
"How much longer do ya think it will take them to go 'round?" Walsh asked in between bursts of his machine gun. "Probably a minute or two." Harvey replied between his own bursts. "Need to reload!" Walsh shouted as he rolled over on his back and plucked an empty clip from his pocket. Harvey was foolishly distracted by Walsh's unnecessary comment.
Paul seemed to be waiting for an eternity for the firing to pause. When the pangs and whines stopped he shot into a sitting position, tore open the hatch which he had opened while laying on his back to save time, risking a shot to the arm. He reached in and extracted the shotgun and pistol. Then he fell back to the pavement just as the firing recommenced. He handed the pistol to Gary, because he could not operate both weapons simultaneously, and he didn't trust Gary's marksmanship. At first Gary refused the weapon, but Paul threw it at him as if to say, shoot you coward. Peering around the side of the vehicle Paul could not see the shooters, but he could see their weapon's barrels light a fluorescent-like red when they fired. Taking a laying shooter's stance, Paul aimed for one of the flashing targets. He was an exceptional shot, but he had never been tested in an actual situation before. The rifle was almost a cannon, if the shot hit any part of their bodies, it would literally be torn off.
Keeping low Walsh gave Harvey cover fire while he was reloading, which Harvey should have gave him instead of looking at him. That was a stupid rookie mistake. Walsh fired high over where he expected the target to be. He was unprepared for the deafening boom that resonated off the nearby hills. At first he thought he particle accelerator had exploded, but there was no shockwave that succeeded the bang. Then he realized that their quarry must have pulled a high-powered weapon from the trunk while their pinning gunfire paused. The first shot hit nothing but bush, but it was close, only inches away from Harvey's head. The helmets they had on could protect against a handgun, but not against that cannon. However, their body armor would be sufficient to stop the bolt, but not without inflicting a serious hurting and probably leave one hell of a bruise.
Paul waited for the gun to recharge before he shot again. He wondered if he hit anybody. Both of the stroboscopic orange globes from their weapons were still present; he didn't hit anybody. "Hurry up." He muttered under his breath at the rifle in his hands. Done. Paul immediately started to line up his next shot. It was difficult to concentrate with Helen screaming behind him, but now her screaming had subsided to sobbing.
Emily was relieved when Helen stopped crying, but when she thought of a reason for why she stopped, her heart skyrocketed into her throat. Helen may be dead or dying and there was nothing Emily could do or she would be cut down and be of no help to anybody. Stay put. She kept telling herself, but it was becoming more difficult with each passing moment. Her maternal instincts were going crazy. She wanted to run to Helen and hold her, but running across the road right now would be as stupid as suicide. She reluctantly waited. She tried to quell her hammering heart but it was all in vain. She wanted to know if her little girl was all right and it was eating her alive that she couldn't do anything at the moment.
Walsh heard the rifle fire again. The subsequent boom seemed louder than the first and the echoing repercussions seemed to go on longer than before. Immediately after the booming gunshot, Walsh heard a noise that reminded him of a melon being dropped on solid ground. Looking over at Harvey, Walsh nearly threw up. The shot he heard had struck Harvey right in the face. Though his helmet had kept his head from exploding as it would without one, Walsh could see a giant puddle of blood around him and a gaping hole in the back of his head exposing the gray matter inside. Crimson stains sprayed along Harvey's back and onto his pants. Walsh looked down and saw that he had blood all over his left side from the ribs down. Pieces of bloodied brain tissue had splattered against the bush behind Harvey. This was the first time in his forty-eight years of existence that he had seen someone die before his eyes. Walsh was beginning to become light- headed. Turning his head to the side he vomited what little content he had in his stomach. If he had known this man before today he probably would have been enraged at the loss. Since he didn't know him that well, Walsh only felt a deep sadness in his heart. He always thought it was a waste when people were killed young, but he made an exception for criminals. Like the people he was shooting at. He wouldn't hesitate a fraction of a second if he had the chance to kill one of them, but his orders were specific. They were to capture the parents and kill anybody else, but he might make a slip.
Louis stood twenty yards behind the downed hover car hidden by the bushes on the shoulder of the road. Elise was crouching beside him with a solemn expression on her face. "I can't do this Louis. I can't bring myself to do anything to those innocent people." Elise confessed while looking away from Louis. "We don't have to. I think I know a way to get them out of this and make it look like an accident." "Really!" Elise's head spun towards Louis and her eyes seemed to glow. " I think if we can sneak up behind them, make it look like we're stalking them to Walsh and Harvey, we can talk to the parents without our 'friends' hearing us. We can tell them to run, or something." "What if they shoot us?" Elise said realizing the coherent danger in his plan. "We'll have to take that chance." Louis said bluntly. "Let's go." They started to climb out of the concealing bush. "Elise." Louis said. "Yes." Elise turned around to face him. "I love you." He wanted to say his goodbyes in case the worst happened. Silently, they both climbed onto the road and covered the distance between them and the parents quickly.
Waiting for the rifle to charge again, Paul heard Helen let loose a shrill cry of terror like someone was stabbing her to death. Then he knew that they had been surrounded. Their situation went from bad to hopeless. Paul rolled over and saw two crouched people about ten feet away. He whipped the rifle at the smaller one and pulled the trigger. The shot must have been charged, because the weapon kicked back into his shoulder hard. Just before he pulled the gun he thought he heard one of them shout, "Don't shoot!" But it was too late, the energy bolt struck one of them in the chest and flung the person ten feet backwards. One down, one to go.
Louis shouted, "Don't shoot!" In a vain attempt to stop the man from pulling the trigger. He watched in terror as Elise took the rifle shot directly in the chest, thank God for the body armor, and fly backwards two of her body lengths. He acted quickly. He kicked the weapon out of the man's grasp and took him by the shirt. There was another man with a small handgun, but he was too terrified to even speak, let alone pull the trigger on the weapon. He cowered in the fetal position against the downed hover car. "I'm not going to hurt you, you understand. I want you to run when I let you go. Don't ask any questions. Just run. Do you hear me? Run, dammit!" The man seemed confused, a perplexed look fell on his face. "My wife," He said pointing to the bushes. "Ran." "Call her over here." Behind them Elise was making agonized coughing sounds as she gradually recovered from the shot to her chest that was luckily halted by the body armor. "EMILY! Get over here! It's okay! Come over here!" The man shouted towards the side of the road, never taking his eyes off of Louis. A woman peered from the foliage on the shoulder. Hesitantly, she rose to her feet, looked towards the direction the machinegun fire had originated but now was silenced. She bolted across the road and straight for her daughter. She hugged her fiercely and began to say, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Over and over to the distressed child. "Now go. Run. Fast. Hurry." Louis said with such urgency that he didn't even create full sentences. Still regarding Louis with suspicion, the man slowly shuffled towards his wife always keeping an eye on Louis. To his wife he said, "Are you okay?"
"Yes." She responded. She had a soothingly sweet voice. "RUN!" Louis shouted in exigency. Walsh was walking towards them. They needed to get away before he could see them. The family and the other man began to run away as fast as their legs could carry them. "Hey! Go get them!" Walsh shouted. Too late. Seeing no other contingency he could take, Louis spun and fired his weapon at Walsh. Several shots tore through his chest. Crimson fluid spurted from his back as each shot ripped through his armor and flesh. He was dead before he hit the ground. Louis felt filthy about killing Walsh but he could see no other way around it. It was inevitable. Walsh would have done the same to him once he realized that they were not following orders. Kill or be killed the choice was difficult but simple. Elise looked thunderstruck almost too terrified to move. This was the first time she had seen somebody get shot. To make it worse, Louis pulled the trigger. Seeing the man she loved take another life was almost more than she could bear. Seeing her distress, Louis threw his weapon aside and hugged Elise fiercely. Louis did not know how long they were embraced, it could have been only a minute, but a half-hour could have passed and he would not have known the difference.
9
When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom. Let it Be. Max knew this song. It was "Let it Be" by the Beatles. Max did not know what it was about this song but he enjoyed it, though he detested the rest of that British band's music with a passion. The boy was still running lyrics through his thoughts. The boy did not know that all his attempts were in vain. His parents were probably being brought to him right this minute. Max would love to see the parents' reactions when he kills their son. He had decided that he would shoot the boy instead of keeping him for research like the scientists wanted. Max waited patiently for the parents to be escorted through that door. The power.
Chris waited in the perpetual darkness. Something was growing inside him. He could feel it clawing at his subconscious like a rabid wolf. He could not discern what it was regardless of how deep he looked. Occasionally, he saw a part of whatever "it" was. But it was like he was walking through a pitch black tunnel, and the only glimpses Chris caught of whatever "it" was, was when the electricity surged and lit the tunnel with a quick flash of light. However, he did not know when these surges came or know where to look to find "it," but most of the time, it found him. Chris did not like the glimpses he saw. All that Chris knew was that whatever was germinating inside him was that he could not forget it, and that it was dangerous. Dangerous like a man with a split personality armed with thousands of nuclear weapons and fueled by an unequaled animosity towards mankind. Chris was becoming scared of himself more than he was afraid of the blackness that encompassed him.
Paul did not know why that man had let them go back there. He could not find a logical explanation for it with the exception of that that man had a heart. Since the nearest city was five or six miles away, Paul had plenty of time to contemplate. They walked along the side of the highway like they were marching to their deaths. A somber air hung around them that grew with every passing moment like they were magnets for the negative feelings drifting around. He wanted to find out what else Gary knew, but for some reason he did not want Helen to know exactly what happened to her brother. He would wait. Though Emily was greatly relieved that nobody was hurt, she was falling through a downward spiral towards hopelessness. She tried to fill her mind with positive thoughts but she could not resist the gravity pull of the downward spiral. The blazing sun hung at high noon, glaring sunshine claimed every crevice that darkness could be evicted. The sun beat down on the macadam highway, heating its tarry surface. The heated highway radiated heat adding to the already warm day. The several mile-walk would be tiresome in the least. Already favoring her deficient leg, Emily limped noticeably. After a mile or so, she would be almost dragging her leg behind her. After two miles, she would be forced to crawl because the pain would be intolerable. To avoid those inevitable happenings, they had to rest every few minutes, before Emily's leg hindered their progress to too great an extent. The first leg of their journey passed by uneventfully and silently. Not a word was spoken between them. Sitting in the grass off the side of the highway, Paul had surrendered to ignorance, as he could not logically think of a reason for that man to release them. Now, he had no thoughts to cloud his mind from the incessant tapping of their feet as they struck the highway, or from the darkness that is morbid curiosity. Instead of thinking in logical patterns, his thoughts drifted along a knife's edge between the rational and irrational. On one side, he had the life of his past, a simple existence with a loving wife and two children. On the other side, he had his life now. Hit men coming after them at every corner, agencies kidnapping little children and killing innocent civilians. On one side, simplicity. On the other, paranoia. With the sun to their backs, they trudged on.
Discussing the possible avenues they could use to move the Machine, Morris felt a headache begin to flare behind his eyes. He was doing too much thinking. The other agents he was talking to were idiots. The most intelligent suggestion they offered was removing one of the Enterprises engines and attaching it to the Machine. Which was impossible. First of all, it would take too long and they did not have the manpower to perform such a task. Secondly, the engine would only be able to go forward without the directional thrusters. Lying back in his seat, Morris closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to soothe his germinating headache. He had an inspiration. Instead of removing the engine to one of the Enterprises, they could position the Enterprises around the Machine and force it to move with them. Since the Machine was in space, its relative weight was zero. The problem was that all of the Enterprises would have to move synchronously. Then he remembered, he could tie all of the nav computers into a single nav system. They had a plan. He pushed the communication button and said, "Shut up everybody, here's what we're doing." He explained the details to the other agents.
Hey you! Out there in the cold getting lonely, getting old, can you feel me? Hey you! Standing in the aisles with itchy feet and fading smiles, can you feel me? Another song that Max did not know, but these lyrics were compelling. He wondered if he should tell the boy that his parents have been arrested and were being transported here at this minute. Max answered himself, no. He wanted to see the boys face when he realized that all of his attempts to block out his mind were in vain. Max drifted away in his state of power-induced euphoria. He almost didn't hear his mobile phone ring. Opening the face of the mechanism, he spoke into the microphone. "Yes?" He spoke rapidly. "The strike team has not reported back to us yet." The man on the other end said. "What does that mean?" "It either means they are experiencing difficulty with their communications equipment, or they have failed." Max remained silent, he was too angry to speak. "I have to guess that they failed because they're ship was in perfect running order on the last report." The man's voice was wavering. "Who in God's name are these people?!" Max said at last. "How could they have killed ten of our men?! This is God damned unbelievable! Un-fucking- believable!" He normally didn't swear, but his well-laid plan was ruined. By the time they could get another strike team assembled, the parents could be on another planet. Therefore, mobilizing another strike team would be a waste of time and precious manpower. He would not send any more men out and cut down on security. He had to go on the defensive and wait for the parents to come to him. They would come; eventually they would come. It was only a matter of time. Hey you! Out there beyond the wall, breaking bottles in the hall, can you help me? Hey you! Don't tell me there's no hope at all. Together we stand, divided we fall.
Maneuvering the Enterprises around the Machine was harder than Morris thought it would be. To remove the threat of the Machine rattling against the Enterprises and inflicting hull damage during transportation, the Enterprises were forced to slide as flush with the sides of the Machine as possible. This was a difficult feat to perform. While an Enterprise was moving into position, its only pilot had to gauge the ships speed and fire the proper thrusters to slow the vessel down just as it slid along side the Machine. If it was moving too fast, it would rebound off the much larger Machine and thusly would have to make another pass. The Enterprises were positioned around the Machine in this manner; one on each of its two smaller sides, two on the top and bottom, three in back for thrust, three in front for breaking. Since the Enterprise's breaking thrusters were weaker than the propulsion thrusters they could only use sixty percent of the propulsion thruster's maximum output. Even so, it would take the twelve Enterprises ten minutes to completely slow the Machine down. Once they were in position, the hardest part of their plan was over. All that preceded was the linking of all the nav computers into Max's nav computer so he could control all of the Enterprises simultaneously.
10
The six-mile walk took longer than Paul expected. He was expecting to enter the city at about one-thirty, but Emily's leg slowed them down more than what Paul had anticipated and because of it, they arrived thirty-two minutes after Paul's approximated arrival time. The entire voyage came to pass without incident. Which was a relief for Paul. He kept expecting to hear a burst of machine gun fire from behind them, or being clubbed by a man concealed in dense foliage that was to their left-hand side. Paul knew that Helen could not come with Emily, Gary, and him when they went to rescue Chris. Therefore, they would have to leave her in a hotel room with a babysitter or with Ingrid Thurman, a friend of theirs that lived in an apartment on the other side of the city. The choice was obvious, Ingrid. If they rented out a hotel room, it would be recorded in the hotel's computer and that left a traceable mark that ADIT could follow. Anyway, odds were that they did not have enough cash on them to rent a hotel room, let alone pay for a babysitter that would be required for Helen. Standing at a phone booth, but in reality it was only a small box with the phone set inside, Paul reached into his pocket and removed fifty kords, (monetary unit similar to the penny) and shook them nervously in his hand.
Turning to Emily, he asked, "Do you remember Ingrid's number?" Emily thought for a moment, then answered. "Five, three, one, four, eight, one, seven, two." Emily gave out the digits three in a row, then two, then the last three. That sequence took in account the miniscule retention time of Paul's, or anybody's, short-term memory, so he would not forget any of the numbers. Paul placed the receiver to his ear after he finished entering the eight- digit number. Riiiinnnngggg.Riiinnnnggg.Riiinnnnggg. The line rang five times before Ingrid answered. "Hello?" Ingrid's smooth feminine voice came through the receiver into Paul's ear. They knew her from their honeymoon, because she was on summer vacation there and occupied a room down the hall from their suite. Though Ingrid was three years older than Emily, Emily thought Ingrid looked at least a decade younger from the last time they had seen her, three years ago. "Ingrid?" Paul said. "It's Paul." "Paul!" The woman said exuberantly, remembering him immediately. "It's been a long time!" "Yes, it has." Paul said trying to fake being as jubilant as she was. "Is Emily there too?" They did not have much time to waste, but Paul did not have the heart to ask the sweet woman for a favor without doing a little catching-up first. He handed the receiver to Emily, she took it and placed to her ear. "Hello, Ingrid." Emily said as vivaciously as she could, considering what she's gone through over the past few hours. "Emily! How've you been?" "Pretty good. You?" "I'm doin' just fine." "We were in town and were wondering how you've been." "Do you have time to drop by my place so we can catch up?" "Sure. Where do you live?" Ingrid told Emily the address than directions on how to get there after Emily told her where they were. After a few exchanges Emily said goodbye and hung up the phone. She had told Ingrid that they would be there in a few hours after they had run a few errands. They didn't have any errands to do, that was a lie in order to give them the time necessary to walk to her house.
To avoid collisions, the Enterprises moved into position no more than two at a time. The only Enterprise that remained out of position was Morris'. The location for his Enterprise was the left front side. He decided to back into his position, but that would not be easy. Since the main thrusters were far more powerful than the reverse thrusters, he would only have to give the main thrusters a miniscule amount of firing time. Morris switched the "Victory" over to manual control. He was trained in piloting any ship ADIT had to offer, but he took a few moments to recall how to maneuver the giant ship. The "Victory" glided through the emptiness of space. Morris piloted it with painstaking precision. Due to his inexperience, he only dared to move agonizingly slow. After a few long moments, the vessel was aligned for its first attempt. It was positioned about three hundred meters directly ahead of its final destination facing away from the Machine. All that Morris had to do was guide the "Victory" backwards into its predetermined destination.
Morris gently applied the reverse thrusters. At first the ship seemed not to be moving, but the longer Morris kept the reverse thrusters active, the faster the ship traveled. Since in momentum is lost in space, it didn't take long for the "Victory" to be noticeably moving backwards. Using the distance-measuring device on board, used for measuring distances to targets and ships approaching to dock, Morris did not have to continuously look at the aft camera projection screen. He only had to shift his gaze a few inches to his left and he could see a numerical representation of the distance between the "Victory" and the Machine. 141.7 meters. He was moving too fast. He covered half the distance in less than five seconds. Pulling back slightly on the control for the main thrusters the ship slowed significantly. Morris released the control for the reverse thrusters, inertia would carry the "Victory" to the Machine. 102.3 meters. Beads of sweat began to form along Morris' receding hairline though the interior of the bridge was cool. His stomach tied itself in a knot. Trying to keep a clear head, Morris thought about a sunrise over an ocean.
He was becoming nervous from the fact that the Captain had earlier brought the "Victory" into the heart of the battle. The "Victory" had sustained some hull damage, but the engines could not be assessed properly. If the main engines were damaged, and Morris bumped into the Machine in the wrong way, they might crack. When the engines cracked, it caused the matter and antimatter to mix freely instead of in a controlled environment. If that occurred, it would create an explosion large enough to destroy the rear half of the "Victory," and probably cause the main reactor to rupture causing another explosion. This one would destroy the "Victory" completely and the other Enterprise beside it. His hands began to shake subtly. He began to use imagery to calm his jittering nerves. Sunrise over the ocean. Morris calmed himself somewhat.
51.2 meters. Crunch time. Sweat poured from his face. Sunrise over the ocean. His gut clenched tighter around his intestines. 13.4 meters. Morris tapped the main thruster control and closed his eyes, waiting for chance to deal him his fate. The wait for the "Victory" to make impact was so long that Morris almost thought that he had hit the main thrusters too hard and he brought the "Victory" to a dead stop. Then the entire ship shuddered as it struck the Machine. No explosion followed, just a loud clang that reverberated through the ship. Morris opened his eyes and checked the distance. 0.0 meters. He was either flush against the Machine or so close that it was irrelevant. "I'm in position. Everybody prepare to tie your nav computers into mine." Morris said exasperatedly wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve.
Emily could think of an explanation they could use to explain their appearances to Ingrid. Her clothes were spattered with dirt and grass stains, her hair was in disarray, and though she could not see it, she believed her face was filthy. She could tell Ingrid that their car broke down. But Emily quickly rejected that thought when she remembered how nice Ingrid was. If their car broke down, Ingrid would do everything in her power to get it fixed. Maybe they should have rented a hotel room, it would have been easier. They were running out of time, Ingrid's house was only a few blocks away. Think, Emily, think. She told herself silently. Time ticked away with every step they took.
By the time Herald left the hanger, he knew something was wrong, but he could not put a finger on what it was. It was as elusive as it was mysterious. It was like an unseen smoke hanging in the air, a ghost walking down a hallway, intangible yet sensible. It nagged at Herald's mind incessantly. Thinking it was just his nerves, Herald took a shower, but he felt no different afterwards than before. Sitting on his couch he tried to blank his thoughts, but that feeling of wrongness refused to be silenced. Making excuses for that sensation, he told himself that the assault on the Machine took more out of him than he thought. He knew that was a lie, but he could not find a more logical reason to explain his feeling of wrongness. Maybe sleep would quell this feeling. Herald laid down on the couch, closed his eyes and in a few minutes was asleep.
Once all of the nav systems were tied into Morris' computer, he plotted the course they were to follow and programmed which engines would perform which tasks. This was necessary so that when he accelerated forward, the vessels located on the front side of the Machine would not shoot forward and thusly ruin their attempt at guiding this Machine to its destination. The programming of the systems was easier than Morris had first thought it would be. It only cost Morris six short minutes for him to enter the commands into the ship's nav system and compute their meaning. With all the programming, processing, interpolation, and registering complete, the Machine with the dozen Enterprises guiding it were ready for the journey ahead. Tentatively, Morris pushed forward on the main thruster control and engaged the hyperspace engines. If he had missed a key while he was reprogramming the nav system, or if he had misread one of the symbols in the readout of one of the Enterprises, or if he had made any of a thousand other mistakes, everything he and the other agents had done would have been in vain. The muffled wail of the hyperspace engines echoed through the ship, but seemed to magnify on the bridge. The wail nagged at what conscience Morris had left as if it was a human trying to make him realize his actions were wrong. But Morris ignored this nuisance with ease. The mass of mechanized steel shot forward with a sudden lurch of speed. The coherent gravitational forces that were introduced onto the crew by any known or precipitous accelerations and decelerations were nullified by a device in the artificial gravity system that held all of the passengers still, regardless of what the laws of inertia introduced upon them.
So I held my head up high. Hiding hate that burns inside. Which only fuels their selfish pride. We're all held captive out from the sun, a sun that shines on only some. We the meek are all in one. Max wasn't watching the screen any longer. He had turned his attention to the digital readouts of the boy's life signs. The lines were almost hypnotic in their endless race across the screens. He checked his phone. He was waiting for Morris to report on his mission any time now. Back to the readouts. Brain waves normal, heart rate normal, blood pressure a little high but nothing to warrant concern, breathing rate normal. In this abnormal world these readouts seemed to all that's normal. Rrrrri. Max snatched his phone off the table beside him and cut the emitted sound short. "Hello?" He said quickly. "Max, it's Morris." It sounded like the man had just ran a marathon. "How are you preceding?" "We're on our way to the site with the Machine." Excitement grew in Max's stomach when he heard the news. He was even closer to his dream of possessing the power of a totalitarian dictator. His head tingled with delight. "Very good." He said, trying to retain his child-like glee. "We'll be arriving in four hours and twenty minutes. Sir, what should we do about the final Machine?" "Ignore it." Max ordered. "What if it begins to create units?" Morris was being uncharacteristically curious. "Machines can only make k-bots. Any units that Machine makes will be frozen there, since that planet does not have a Galactic Gate." "Yes sir." Morris spoke in a tone not dissimilar to a child that was just reprimanded. That is very odd for him. Usually he has an unconcerned tone to his voice. This was strange, almost unsettling. Morris cut the transmission. That unsettling feeling began to ferment in Max's stomach, but he knew if he allowed it to continue the result would not be fine wine or strong rum.
He looked at the computer rolling out the contents of the boy's thoughts. The fermentation in his stomach did not abate. I cry out to God, seeking only his decision. Gabriel stands and confirms I've created my own prison.
Emily knocked on the door to Ingrid's house. She had not though of an explanation for their appearance, which made her nervous. Maybe Ingrid wouldn't notice, Emily thought, but she rejected that foolish idea when she saw how disheveled they appeared. Gary decided that it would be better if they went in without him, he would find his own place to stay and they would meet them on the corner of Fifth and Main in the morning. Paul did not like splitting up, but it would be significantly easier if they followed Gary's plan instead. Either plan would present a problem, they chose the simpler problem to handle because over the past few hours, they have had more than their share of dilemmas and were getting tired of them. The door opened. Ingrid stood in the doorway with a look of surprise when she saw her old friends again, but that appearance quickly faded when she saw what condition they were in. It was replaced by a visage of curiosity that screamed out, 'What happened to you?' "Oh, my God! What happened? Are you okay?" Ingrid placed on of her delicate hands over her chest as if she was steadying a rapid heartbeat. This was what Emily was not prepared for and she was at a loss of thought at the moment. She could think of no way to explain this without telling her the truth. Emily thought that an eternity had slipped by since Ingrid spoke.
Escaping Paradise
You can see, but you can't see death But you can now sense his breath. Coming closer you can feel You now know death is real. -Whispers on the Breeze
Knowledge is power, we have all heard that little piece of wisdom. But when you learn something scary, can you unlearn what you know already? -Whispers on the Breeze
Run, if they can't find you. Run, till you can run no more. Run, just hope that when you stop, You have run far enough. -Whispers on the Breeze
Confused, I walk through my house. I had another dream where I am trapped in the gray room with the sphere in the middle. But I wouldn't call it a dream. I don't really know what it is, but it scares me to death. Those."dreams" are very strange. Normally, when I drink myself into a drunken stupor, I don't revisit the battles I've been in. But last night I was drunk out of my mind and I still had that strange "dream." All I remember is seeing the sphere and hearing a few scattered words flash through my mind although I now they didn't come out of my mouth and there was nobody else in the room. I can remember the sound of those words. They were in a voice I feel I should know. "Help.Mo.y." I remember distinctively. But the words that stick out the strongest I'll remember until the day I die. Not because of their content, but because of the emotion they were spoken in. "They'll.k-kill me, .help." They were spoken in a voice so fraught with emotional agony and mental torment that they broke my heart, and I woke up crying. I want nothing more than to help that person that is in that place. But I don't know where to begin. I am so confused.
Chris no longer sees the darkness that encompasses him. He sees pictures in front of his eyes where the empty blackness should be. They are bad pictures. People getting killed, blood, so much blood. He would give anything to see the blackness again.
"Where are we going Dad?" Helen asked as she walked out of the school. Paul could not think of anything to tell her. He could tell her the truth. Assassins are hunting us and they want to kill us. Like he was going to tell her that. "What is it Dad?" Helen asked again. "Just wait." Paul told her. Helen climbed into the backseat. Paul followed her. She looked at the man in the driver's seat. "Mommy, who's that man?" She said with a ring of alarm in her voice. "This is Gary Wallace. He's a.doctor." Emily told her. "Why is there a doctor here?" Helen said perplexed by the situation. "Listen, sweetie. We need to tell you something, and you may not like it." Paul said to her. "Am I sick or something?" She said with a little bit of fear in her voice. "Oh, no, nothing like that. Do you remember the men that came to our house dressed in the black suits?" Paul said trying to ease her into the revelation. "Yes." "Well those men kidnapped Chris. Mr. Wallace here knows where they are keeping him and he's going to help us get him back." "Oh. What's so bad about that?" Helen said. Paul nor Emily could think of anything to say that would answer Helen's questions. Even though Helen didn't completely understand how dire the situation was, Paul didn't want to tell her anymore. "Buckle up. We may have to go just a little fast." Gary said staring at the approaching vehicles in the rear view window.
Louis knocked on Elise's door. He looked at his watch, eight minutes till seven. He liked being early for everything. The door opened, Elise stood there looking like a goddess in a dark blue blouse and black velvet skirt. A pair of diamond earrings in each ear accentuated the pure beauty of her face. He was dressed in the nicest clothes he had. A pair of light brown khakis and a button down dress shirt. And for some reason he felt like he was underdressed. "Louis!" She sounded surprised. She opened the door entirely and stepped to the side. "Come on in." Louis stepped across the threshold and Elise closed the door. He turned to her and said, "Traditionally, this is where I would tell you have a nice place, hand you a bouquet of flowers, and tell you how beautiful you look. But saying your place is nice is an understatement and I don't have any flowers. So I'll skip to the end. You look absolutely gorgeous." "Why, thank you." She said blushing slightly. Even though all of the cabins were exactly the same, Elise keeps hers clean. The cabins were mainly one room that contained a bed, a holovision set, a dining table, and a small kitchen. Soft beige carpeting except by the kitchen area where it changed abruptly into ceramic tile covered the floor. Which was identical in design to every other cabin on the ship. Whenever there was a mission that required the use of the Enterprises, the personal used the same room every time. It was a time saver. It would take a long time for everybody to be assigned a new room with each excursion. And it saved time from having the people pack and unpack their belongings on each mission. A pleasant scent of pine air freshener clung to the air. The fragrance seemed to untie the knots that entwined themselves in Louis' stomach. Louis relaxed. "Do you like steak?" Elise inquired. She walked towards the oven, and assured herself that the food was not turning Cajun. "Yes. Is that what we're having?" "Yep. How do take it?" She asked bending over, testing how far they had cooked through. "Medium well." Louis stood ten feet behind her, admiring the shapeliness of her body. "Good, then they'll be done at the same time." She closed the oven and stood erect. "Would you like to sit down?" She motioned to the cushioned chairs at the dining table. Louis moved to the seats where Elise was headed. He pulled a chair out for her and gestured for her to sit. She smiled sweetly, and sat. Louis pushed her chair in and walked around the small table and sat opposite Elise. The table was only designed for two people to sit at, because of that Louis was only a mere three feet away from Elise. He enjoyed this closeness. He could almost feel the smoothness of her skin, almost taste her luscious lips, almost. His thoughts began to trail away from reality. His gaze was fixed on her beautiful green eyes. "Louis?" Elise said. Louis snapped out of his daze. "Did you say something?" "Do you like music?" She repeated the question he didn't hear. "Yeah." She stood and went over to the small stereo across the room. Looking through her selection of music she said, "I don't have much for this type of situation." Still sifting through her collection. "What do you have?" "Mostly Earth rock from their sixties and seventies." She paused on a title but kept going. "Good taste." Louis commented. He could NOT stand the Earth's modern music. It was just a bunch of queer looking guys dancing around on stage, some of them lip-sinking to another person's voice. It was a load of crap. More often than naught, the modern bands didn't even write their own music. Louis could not tolerate people who made money from other's ideas. She removed six mini-discs and inserted them into the stereo. She rapidly programmed the songs she wished to hear and played them. Afterwards, she returned to the table. "What'd you pick?" Louis asked. "Like I said, I don't have much for this kind of situation, so I just picked some of the softer stuff. Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, Cream, Don Henley, Dan Fogelberg, and Hallowed Grounds." Hallowed Grounds was one of the few bands on Earth that made music just for the sake of making music. They didn't care if the music they made would make money, they just made what they wanted. And Louis liked that. They were very recent, only a few years old. In spite of that, they had an army of fans. Mostly their music was acoustic with an orchestra playing with them, but occasionally they made a heavy song, like "Sail Down." "Are you sure that little thing can give off enough sound that we can hear it?" Louis said about the stereo. "I have a surround sound system hooked up. We would be able to hear it even if I turned the volume almost all the way down because each of the speakers I have connected has its own equalizer and volume control." Elise said. Louis looked around trying to see where the speakers were. "Sounds nice." The psychedelic sounds of Dark Side of the Moon carried through the room. It sounded like Pink Floyd was playing for them live the sound was so clear but Louis knew that was impossible because every member of the band was six feet under. Then the oven's timer buzzer kicked on. The annoying buzzing was in complete contradiction to the calming effects the music had. Elise shot out of her seat and quickly walked to the oven and turned off the ear rattling noise. She spent a few moments in the kitchen fixing their plates. She returned and handed him a plate with a medium sized steak with a pile of sautéed onions piled next to it. They each eagerly consumed their meals.
Whipping around the front of the building Gary flung the hover car around with ease. The engine whined as Gary pushed it to its limits. The vehicles giving chase were gaining. They were obviously capable of faster speeds in their juiced up vehicles. Gary would have to outmaneuver them in the city. The pavement shot underneath them so fast that the dashed lines appeared to be a single, straight line. It was noon, there would be very little traffic on the street. That could play to their advantage or it might not. Gary yanked the wheel and threw the car onto Main Street. The two black hover cars that were chasing them had split up. Only one was behind them now, and he was closing the distance between them fast. The other one must have cut off on another turn in an attempt to cut them off. Paul looked at Helen sitting next to him. She was frightened. Her fingers were digging into the seat cushion trying to hold her still. In the passenger seat, Emily was behaving identically to Helen. Gary was grinding his teeth as if he was using every muscle in his body to control the speeding car. He had a look of a madman on his face, eyes wide, nostrils flared. Paul looked back through the rear window in time to see a man lean out the passenger side aiming for them. Ducking, he grabbed Helen by the shoulder and yelled, "DUCK!" Three shots were fired in rapid succession. Two hit the trunk and the other passed just inches over the back of their seats. If Paul hadn't ducked, he would have taken that shot through the back. Gary slowed slightly and swung a hard right. He was trying to pull the black car close enough so that when he took a turn, their pursuer did not have enough time to react and take the turn and allow them a clean getaway. It was a simple trick, but the only one Gary could think of. The engine seemed to be screaming at Gary to slow down. The buildings around them were blowing by so quickly Paul couldn't tell where one building ended and another began, it was just one big gray blur. If a pedestrian happened to be walking in front of them, Gary would be moving to quickly to react. He prayed that the streets would remain clear of people until they lost their tails. Behind them two more shots rang out. Paul drew his pistol and returned fire. His shots missed their marks miserably, while their pursuers' shots hit the rear bumper and blasted through it. Flying through an intersection, the other black car came hurtling from the left side. Gary saw it and swung a turn away from it. The one giving chase almost t-boned the other black car and ended the chase right there. But they weren't that lucky. Now they had two dogs on their tail. Two against one, Paul didn't like those odds. Trying to exercise his plan Gary slightly decelerated allowing the black cars to get almost along side them. More shots rang out. Paul fired back.
The road Gary was moving on now ran along side a steep mountain to the left side. One of the black cars pulled along the right side of Gary, plugging up his escape route. The other boxed him in by riding his bumper. Since the black cars could outrun them, they had nowhere to go. Gary looked out his window. The man in the passenger seat pulled out his weapon and was aiming it right at his head. Sweat poured off of Gary in such an abundance that he thought he would shrivel up from the loss of water. He heard a shot ring out, not from the man in the other car, but from Paul. His shot ripped through the window and smashed through the gunman's arm. Blood shot from the wound and he dropped his weapon. The gun struck the pavement and skipped away. Taking advantage of the moment, Gary slammed the hover car into the side of the black hover car beside him. The impact made Gary's, and probably everybody else's jaws slam together. The black hover car was sent into a violent counter clockwise rotation. Nearly the same instant, the twirling hover car careened into the other and caused it to flip up into the air from the high speeds. It came crashing down on its top, surely injuring the passenger and driver if not killing them. Then to add insult to punishment, the spinning car slammed into the crippled hover car sending this one into the air like the last one. However, this hover car did not hit the road again, this one rocketed into the hillside spraying sparks and torrents of rocks into the air. When it finally hit the ground, the energy storage unit ruptured, incinerating the entire vehicle in a huge explosion. Gary still drove above the speed limit but not as fast as he was. Trying to catch his breath he asked, "Is everybody ok?" "Yes." Paul said, also trying to catch his breath. Emily relaxed her grip and looked at her hands like she was amazed that she was still alive. "I.I think so." Helen just nodded. She was still scared stiff. Her nails still clawed into the seat cushion. Paul just now noticed the wind whipping through his already wind-tossed hair. The excitement had numbed him. "Good shot back there Paul." Gary said, not really being sincere, just trying to keep a silence from falling over them. Gary hated silence. "I got lucky." Paul replied with modesty. Lucky, yeah you got that right. Gary thought. You got very lucky, that guy was about a half a second away from wasting me, and ending this joyride. "What do we do now?" Emily asked. The adrenaline that was pumping through her body had ceased and she began to feel the unimaginable pain that was pulsing from her right thigh. Now it was only a tingle. "We need to find a place to hide until tomorrow." He spoke without peeling his attention from the road ahead of him and behind him. Wary that an ambush might strike at any moment, but he knew it would take some time for ADIT to react to this turn of events and reassign some men to take care of them. Despite knowing that bit of information, he was still paranoid. Take no chances he told himself. "We have a summer cabin out near Tear Lake." Paul mentioned. "No way. That would be the next place they would look." Gary gunned that down. "But it's not in our name." Emily rebutted. "We share it with some friends of ours. Our name is nowhere on the deed." Gary couldn't think of anything to say to reject that idea. "That's where we'll go then." He didn't like it but it was the only thing that came to his mind.
The meal was delicious. It was a long time since Louis had had steak. Elise was obviously a good cook. The bluesy rock of Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love" caressed their ears. They had talked all through the meal about their favorite styles of music, books, and movies. Louis had found that she shared many of the same preferences and tastes with him. "Let's see, worse date I ever had, huh?" Elise said, searching for the most embarrassing date she'd ever had. It was part of a little game they were playing back and forth. She thought for a moment, "That would be a few years ago with a guy named Chuck. I was wearing a thick white blouse without a bra because the heat was unbearable. We were supposed to go to a restaurant than a movie. Well, anyway, about halfway through dinner. I had a few drinks in me and I was feeling pretty good." "Let me guess, you got drunk out of your mind and did a lap dance in the middle of the restaurant." Louis said jokingly. Elise laughed at the comment. "No. But when I went to get a drink of water, I spilled it on myself and you can just fill in the details from there." She laughed at her own misfortune. "So, right in the middle of dinner, you give him a peep show." Louis said half laughing. "You should have saw the people's faces, they women were shocked and the men were shocked too but they wanted to see more." Elise added to the slight comedy of the situation. "I don't think I can top indecent exposure. But this one time, on my first blind date I was picked her up in my convertible. We were going across town to see the new James Bond film, which I'm proud to say stunk, when are they going to stop making those movies?" Louis asked rhetorically. "Like I was saying, I was driving her home when I couldn't remember where she lived. I spent the next two hours driving aimlessly around the city, needless to say, she was pissed when I finally got her home." Chuckling, "Not as good as mine, but still funny." The music changed. Now it was the soft rock mastery of Dan Fogelberg. Smiling from the stories they told, Elise stood, "Help me carry these dishes to the sink." Louis stood and grabbed the remaining plates, glasses, and silverware. She was standing in front of the sink with her back to him, as if she was lost in thought. Reaching around her he placed the dirtied flatware in the sink. Elise turned and looked into his eyes. Her gaze froze him in place it was so stunning. An eternity seemed to pass in a blink of an eye as he stared into her green eyes that seemed to be burning with passion. Without a warning, Elise quickly locked her lips to his, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and didn't let go. At first Louis stiffened at her unforeseen attack but soon he reciprocated her actions and accompanied her in the embrace. Louis wasn't sure if it was he or if she was the one who started but they were slowly moving towards the bed, stripping each other as they went. They never broke their kiss for more than a second or two. Now they were standing beside the bed. Things were moving so fast Louis couldn't think. Elise slid down his body and sat on the edge of the bed. It's been awhile since the last time Elise has been totally willing to make love to another man. She slowly lay back on the bed. It is the hypothalamus that is responsible for regulating the pleasure and several other basic needs of the body. Right now, Elise's hypothalamus was working overtime. She was lost in a world in which only one emotion prevailed, pleasure. Louis never considered himself good at lovemaking but obviously Elise thought so. After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only three short minutes, they were finished. Exhausted, Louis rolled over and lay beside Elise. "That was incredible." Elise said, again trying to catch her breath. For a few moments they remained motionless, enjoying each other's company. Hallowed Grounds was now playing. The rhythmic chords of "Lonely Hour" drifted across the air like flower petals on a pond. Louis knew these lyrics quite well: ".if all things must pass, I just want you to last. Then the ghostly choir sings, this is your lonely hour..." For some odd reason, Elise was filled with the unshakable dread that Louis would suddenly shoot up off the bed, pull his clothes back on, and bolt for the door, while saying things like, "Look at the time, I have to run." Or, "It's been great, I'll call you." But her fear never manifested. When he finally stood up, it wasn't with haste or the desire to leave. After they redressed, they became entwined in another peaceable conversation. Time seemed to slip away faster than normal as if a cataclysmic explosion had torn a hole in the time space continuum, consequentially altering the flow of time. By the time Louis had realized what time it was they had been talking for over three hours. Looking at the clock Louis was stunned at how late the night had grown. "Whoa, it's after midnight!" He stood. "What?" Elise was surprised as well. Not wanting the night to end Louis reluctantly slipped his shoes onto his feet. Louis didn't want to run out of the room in a hurry. "I really enjoyed this Elise. I'd like to see you again." "How about tomorrow I come over to your place for dinner." "That'll be fine, but I'm warning you, I can't cook." "Just as long as the food doesn't look like fungus, I won't mind." "Then it's a date." He gave her a kiss and left the cabin. When Louis left, Elise walked over to the stereo and turned it off. The music must have stopped playing over an hour ago, but they were so engrossed in each other, they didn't take notice. No man had ever affected her so strongly so quickly. Leaving the dishes for morning, Elise went to bed.
The next two Machines were taken out with relative ease. Neither had been able to produce any sort of attacking units resulting in quick destructions of both. Together those two expeditions required only a total time of five hours including the four hours that was required to travel between the two planets. Five Machines were destroyed, only two remained. The crews prayed that both would be in the same operating condition as the last pair were. Both of them were completely useless. But that was only wishful thinking. Everybody knew that they were extremely lucky with the diminished capabilities of the five Machines that were destroyed. None were operating at their peak potential. If a Machine did function at its zenith, it could produce more units in a single minute than all of ADIT's facilities could hope to manufacture in a day. Machine number six was in a unique location. Not on in a frozen tundra, or in the middle of a desert, or on a high mountaintop, it did not have a terrestrial foothold. It was located in the middle of space, in a massive emptiness between the planets Coravi and Uttergat. The vastness of this area was so large that to scan the entire area it would take the Ranger, the ADIT's longest range probe, a grand total of six years to scan the entire area. And this Machine was located right dead smack in the middle. There it would not be affected by gravity as much as it would be elsewhere. Logically, this was the best place to put the gargantuan facility. This gave them the most trouble locating. With more than four hours till they reach the destination, the crews had time to kill before the assault. Most of them spent that time on the recreation deck, others just slept the time away. The toll that was taken by the acidic atmosphere of the planet of Machine three was only now being fully rectified. Which was important, all units that were available would be needed to deal with the final Machine. Two Machines left till the Core threat is crushed once and for all.
2
The gray room again, no men in white suits crowding the computers. It's just me, the sphere, and the presence within. Though nothing is happening right now, I'm scared. Not scared of what will happen to me, because I know this is only a picture in my head and no harm can be done to my body. It is not the sphere or the presence residing inside that I'm frightened of. It's the unknown that frightens me now. I don't know what is in that sphere, I don't know if it intends to hurt me or help me, I just don't know. And it is always what remains unseen that is the most frightening. Again I feel words flashing through my brain in another's voice. Though this time they are not broken. They convey more emotion than I thought possible for a simple voice to carry. They wrench at my aching heart. They sound tortured, and a feeling that stretches beyond simple sadness to an overwhelming emotion that man has not created a word for. But I feel it now, the presence feels it as well. So I know that emotion exists. Hopelessness, despair, desperation, none of these comes close to the emotion that is being projected into my head. Even if it was possible to add emotions together and create a summation of all that were given, the total of those that came to my mind would be far too insufficient to describe how I feel right now.
Darkness all around. Deep impenetrable darkness so thick it seems tangible. Macabre images float through the air as if it was a movie screen. It feels warm inside this horrid place yet there is a frightening coldness burning inside. Not frightening because of this place, because of a feeling inside. Emily came out of her daze with a cold sweat pouring out of her pores. She shivered violently even though the interior of the convertible was warm. For a moment she didn't know where she was, but once she saw the coniferous trees blazing by in moving blur she came to her senses and remembered where she was. She quickly glanced at Gary and Paul nervously to see if they had seen her shivering. Gary had his attention solely on the road. His left arm was propped on the door with his elbow sticking through the area in which the window would be if it were up. His head rested on his upturned palm. He seemed to be hypnotized by driving. Paul was playing a game with Helen. He would quote a line from a movie or holovision show and she would have to tell him the movie or the series from which the line was drawn. Neither of them seemed to have noticed her quaking hands or the prominent layer of sweat that clung to her face. She was not dreaming, she was sure of that. So she concluded that she had a vision. She had not had a psychic experience in over a decade, not since the final days of the Great War. "Mommy." The words of a child escaped from her lips. She was not responsible for the act, it was an outside force. Then she was hit by a revelation, though she was not sure where it had derived itself from or what logic she had used to reach it, but she knew that it was the truth. Chris was talking to her. That must be the truth because she was never as sure of anything in her entire life as she was sure of this. Chris was alive and for a moment their minds almost touched. She felt tears of joy burning their way down her cold cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to see her son again, to hold his little body close, to feel the grip of his hand around hers. She missed him terribly. Suddenly she was hit with a tidal wave of sorrow. She felt like she was at the nadir of a deep pit from which there was no escaping. Then an intense rush of hot pain surged through her and brought her back to reality. She pulled up the side of her long skirt and examined the hideous black and blue bruises marring the length of her right thigh. The pain was almost intolerable, but she was partially glad she possessed the discomfort because it dragged her out of the hole of depression that she had dug into the recesses of her mind. At one time, her legs were perfect, or as close to perfection that a human can be. It was as if God himself was jealous, or he had a twisted sense of humor, for after the Battle of Cocytus she would carry a reminder that perfection is fleeting. She traced the prominent scar with her pointer finger. Now she had horrendous marks on that leg as well, but she knew those would fade. But now she had also become aware that her beauty would not last, like time it would eventually disappear. Startling herself at those thoughts she realized she was only thirty. She still had plenty of time before her looks left her. And even then she knew that that would not be the end of the world, she would still have Paul to live out the remainder of her life with. That thought had more of a calming effect than twenty shots of hard liquor could possibly do, without the hangover afterwards. Paul leaned forward between the front seats and examined the road ahead of them. "There will be turnoff just around that bend up there." He said pointing to the blacktop ahead of them. "The cabin is about three miles up that road." Paul added as he fell back into his seat. Gary said nothing, just shook his head to show that he understood. Emily knew he was hiding something more. She could feel it like it was as palpable as the white lab coat he wore. It was like icy razor blades running along her skin. Although being ethereal, Emily wasn't able to block the sensation out of her mind. Gary slowed and guided the hover car onto the smaller road leading to the cabin. The highway they had been following was at a higher elevation than the cabin was set at. Gradually the banks of evergreen trees invaded every few hundred yards by a deciduous of one breed or another. The road slowly descended to the cabin's valley. The more road that passed under them the more leaf-bearing trees spotted the forest of evergreens. About two miles further the trees were split almost evenly. By the time they reached the cabin, only deciduous trees were evident in the vast expanse of green. Gary pulled up along side the wooden cabin. It was small, only five rooms, a kitchen, a bath, two bedrooms, and a small family room. It was not a traditional log cabin, but it was made of wood, which in this day in age was rustic. The roof came up to a peak, running east west, about five feet above the ceiling. A chimney poked through the redwood shingles on the far side of the building. Paul was the first to get out. "She may not look like much, but she's a beauty on the inside." Gary was surprised on how well the man-made structure harmonized with the natural settings. The cabin didn't look like it was made here, it looked like it was grown, as if it was a rare species of tree. Paul walked around to the other side of the car to help Emily out of her seat. He draped Emily's right arm over his shoulder, wrapped his left arm around her, and pulled her slowly from the vehicle. Wincing as she took the first step out of the hover car, Emily nearly fell over but Paul had a firm yet gentle grip on her. The pain in her leg had subsided quite a bit since they had fled their home, but it was still too great for her to walk on. She prayed that her leg would be well enough for her to walk on it by tomorrow. Only able to fully use her left leg she had to lean on Paul as he led her into the cabin.
The assault on this Machine was very different from the rest. For one, this attack was in space. Another was that the Enterprise's could only had a total of ten space fighters in their hangers each. That was only one hundred twenty total attack units. The assault must be well coordinated to minimize casualties to nearly zero. The space fighter that the Enterprise's carried was the Pulsar. The Pulsar was loaded front to back with several weapons. The main guns were rapid- fire disruptor cannons, which were designed to knock out the target's electronic systems. To back those up, two Rapier guided missile banks were placed on board. The Rapier was a missile with its own guidance system on board so it kept tracking its target even if its mother ship was destroyed, and they had an extremely high yield in conjunction with unprecedented speed and maneuverability. To add to the already deadly efficiency of this machine, four automatic lasers were placed along its side to give extra protection.
Elise was not selected as one of the pilots to engage in combat in the following battle. She was ecstatic when she heard that news. She hated flying, plus it would give her more time to herself. Sitting at the bar, sipping at her favorite drink she decided to leave ADIT at the first chance she had. She wanted more out of life. But there was a problem. According to the government she didn't exist. Elise Jacobs had died when she was sixteen in a car accident, well at least that's what the authorities thought. After that "accident" she started her career with ADIT, thinking it was what she wanted. But now she knew she was wrong. Then her thoughts turned toward Louis, and her mood lightened. After serving one of the mechanics Derek came over to her and started asking questions about her date with Louis. "How'd yer date go?" "You were right, he is a nice guy." Elise said as her lips formed a smile. "So it went well." It was only occasionally that Derek spoke a grammatically correct sentence. "You didn't say he was so sweet." "That's 'cause guys don't say other guys are sweet, it just sounds fruity." He leaned closer towards her. "How.sweet," He cringed as he spoke that word. "Was he?" "He could've stayed for breakfast, all he had to do was fall asleep." "You don't waste much time do you?" Derek said half laughing. "I don't know what happened, one minute we were eating, the next minute we're laying on the bed." Derek's eyes opened and he waited attentively for more details but none came. "We have so much in common it's uncanny." "Un.canny?" Derek wasn't that intelligent. "Weird." Elise gave him a one-word definition, though she knew he would forget it in a few hours. "What's 'dat got to do with anything?" Derek was perplexed, or in his case, confused. "I think I'm in love with him." Elise said, almost mumbling it, like she was ashamed to admit it. Stunned Derek nearly blew a blood vessel. "YOU?!" He was not angry just utterly astonished that she would say that. "You'd be the last person I'd expect to fall for someone!" "We didn't have meaningless sex, there was something more to it." Elise said, not believing Derek would understand how she felt. He was the drifter type. Moving from meaningless relationship to meaningless relationship like they were stepping-stones across a creek. "I think that would be the only way he'd sleep with me, if he felt something for me too. I don't know why, it just seems to fit him." She was no longer talking to Derek but rather to herself, as if she was attempting to achieve a higher understanding of the matter by telling herself the story. Even though Derek had never had meaningful sex in his life, he knew what she was talking about, he just didn't see the point in it. Because of that he never saw the point in marriage either. He can't stand being with the same women for more than three weeks let alone for several years. "Are you going to see him again?" He asked expecting to hear her say that she didn't know what she was going to do. "I'm going to his place for dinner tonight." Elise said. Derek was left speechless. He began to think of reasons why she was acting like she was. Normally, when she became flustered or confused by her emotions, she ran away. But the best explanation he thought of was the fact that she had three straight boyfriends that treated her like a piece of meat. It was disgusting even by Derek's standards. And when the first man that comes along and treats her with respect she falls head over heels for him. That had to be it, or at least part of the reason, but he could think of nothing more to fill the hole.
The voice is ringing through my head though I'm still awake. Am I awake? There's the saltshaker, feels solid enough. I open the jar and pinch some salt between my forefinger and middle finger and place it on my tongue. Tastes like salt. But I need more proof that I'm awake. I pinch my arm. Ouch. Yes, I am awake. Then why am I still hearing this voice that is not mine? Am I going mad? I don't think so. I can still make rational decisions all the time and I still have my memories but I wish those would go away, even if it leaves me a blithering idiot. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it will end my torment. The voice is the same from the visions I've been having lately. "Help me." It says in a pathetically weak voice. My heart feels like its being torn in two. I want to help to help that little boy but I don't know how. Blackness. "What the hell was that?!" I shout out in surprise. I didn't feel anything for that split second of time. Not even my steady respiration. It was like someone flipped a switch in my brain that turned off my consciousness. Blackness. Completely shocked I shot out of the armchair I was sitting in and began to look around the room with a haste I've never before felt. I was alone in the room, just as I had thought. Blackness. Longer this time. I'm standing in the kitchen. But I was in the living room. An unsettling fear ties my stomach in knots. I walk back towards the living room. Blackness. Again I moved. Now I'm standing outside. This is the first I've left the house in over three years. The bright midday sun burns my eyes. Blackness. I'm sitting in my hover car. This thing hasn't been run for so long I think the electron accelerator's frozen. The fear in my gut grows into paranoia. What is causing me to move without my mind knowing about it? A cold sweat pours down my forehead. Blackness. "HOLY SHIT!" I shout I'm sitting in the middle of traffic on a major highway. The light shining into my car is died a crimson from something. "What in God's name is going on?!" I yell expecting no answer in return. I look panicky out my window. There's a huge shopping center two hundred or so yards off the side of the highway. I have no clue where I'm heading. Blackness. I wake up flying at eighty miles per hour down a deserted stretch of highway in a woodsy area. Reflexively I slammed the brakes. The reverse propulsion system kicked in jetting thousands of pounds of air out the front end of the vehicle and stopping it. I rip my hands from the wheel as if it were a sacrilege to keep them there. "What the hell is going on?" I mutter under my breath. Blackness. Moving again in the hover car. I am off of the main highway and traveling down a two-lane road. The trees are so dense on either side of me that I can hardly see ten yards deep through them. I slam the brakes again and come to a complete stop. The paranoia fills my brain to the brim. I reach for the door handle to get out. Blackness. I'm not standing outside my hover car but instead I'm driving down the two- lane road once again. A clearing is just ahead.
Emily was massaging her right thigh. With each press pain flashed through her mind, but with each successive compression, the pain weakened. After a few minutes it was only a dull throb. Good enough to walk on. But she knew it would only last a few hours until the muscles in her leg tightened up again. She didn't care she had a reprieve from the agony and that was good enough for her. Gary and Paul were talking back and forth about the advancements in the military technology. They weren't engrossed in the conversation; they spoke to kill time. Paul was on the couch sitting with her and Gary sat in an armchair across the room from them. Helen was watching the holovision on the other side of the room. The family room was the largest room in the cabin at twenty feet by fifteen feet. It was the focal point of everything. The only entrance was through the middle of the wall facing the road that led into the valley. Facing that door, the kitchen was joined to the right by an opening and directly behind would be the hallway that led to the bedrooms on either side and at the far end, the bathroom. Since she would be the first one to see anyone trying to get in the door she had the pistol. Right now it was sitting on the end table beside her.
Emily peered between the closed window drapes and saw a hover car coming toward them. Panic shot through her veins like it was part of her blood. "Somebody's coming." She said trying to mask her panic. "How'd they find us so quick?" Gary said as he pulled the window drapes aside and looked out. An old hover car drove up and stopped right along side theirs audaciously.
Paul had grabbed the rifle and was now staring at the hover car. "Why did it stop there? That makes no sense. If they know we're here wouldn't they try to be less conspicuous?" He said in a near whisper. "Yes, they would. This isn't their style." Gary confirmed. The driver's door was flung open and an old man exited the vehicle looking dazed and confused. "That's the crazy old man that lives next to us." Emily pointed out. She was as perplexed as how he had gotten here as Paul or Gary were. "What the living hell?" Paul said. "I thought he never left his house." The old man walked straight for the door with a blank expression on his face. His eyes were empty of all thought and emotion, if she didn't know any better, Emily could have sworn he was dead if he was lying down. "You know that guy?" Gary said. "Not really. He's a hermit, but he's also our neighbor, and in a suburb community like ours everybody knows everybody else and their business too." Emily said, but as she came to the end of the sentence her voice had a ring of anger in it. She hated people knowing her business if she don't tell them herself. The man walked up to the door and opened it, not even bothering to knock. Emily jumped and pointed the gun at him. "Stop right there!" She said aiming for his head. The tall man's lips moved but no words were emitted. He swayed back and forth like an upside-down pendulum. "Back up asshole!" Emily shouted trying to intimidate him but too much of her fear had spilled into her words. The man moved his lips, this time words spewed from them. Then Emily heard a voice so innocent that she froze in place. "Mommy?" It was Chris' sweet voice. Seeing the tall man speak like a child would be absurd and cause Emily to laugh, but this time no laughter exploded from her. "Chris?" Paul said behind her. He had heard the voice too and was probably as confused as Emily was. The expression on the man's face did not change, it was still gaping and void of feeling. The voice from his lips did not belong to him. "Daddy?" The voice sounded like it was quivering with the onset of tears. Emily was still staring in shock, unable to move. Then the voice said something nobody in that room will ever forget, not because of the content of the words, because of the intense emotion they conveyed. "Help me, Mommy." Know the voice sounded like it was in full- blown tears. The weak and innocent utterance was like an icy sword plunging through Emily's heart. She felt like she was going to cry. Hot tears welled in her eyes, but she was still unable to move a single muscle. At first Paul was deeply touched by this phenomena, but that quickly turned to anger. He would make everyone pay that had touched his son. The anger burned inside him with a fury that he had thought impossible. Gary was speechless, he was daunted by the happenings of the last few moments. He was not sure what they meant, but he knew they were significant.
I wake up again, this time my vision is slow to regain focus. There is something close to me. It looks metallic. Getting clearer. I can almost see it now. Totally clear I see it. "Holy shit!"
The blank expression faded from the man's face and he seemed to be regaining consciousness or whatever he had lost to end up like this. He looked straight at the gun in Emily's hand, shouted in fear, and grabbed his chest. Emily still was unable to move. She watched in a terrified awe as the man grabbed his chest while making horrid sounds of agony. He fell backwards into the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. His hand relaxed and fell to the floor. Gary rushed over to his side and pressed his fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. He moved his hand and placed it under his nose. Then he shook his head. Paul was the first to say something. "What happened?" "I think when he woke up or whatever happened, he saw the gun and he panicked and it caused a heart attack." Gary said in a saddened voice. He didn't like seeing people die, though he killed two people in the lab when he escaped. But he kept telling himself that was self-defense. Emily was still locked in place. A look of terror mixed with a look of question melded together across her face. Paul walked over to her and placed his hand on the pistol. Emily snapped. She flinched away from his grasp, she kept whipping her head around as if she was desperately trying to locate something. Her breathing was erratic. "Calm down, baby." Paul said trying to soothe her. "I.he.Chris.him.dead.Chris!" She was babbling almost incoherently staggering backwards. She dropped the pistol. "Grab her! She's going to pass out!" Gary shouted. Paul moved in to grab her before she could fall. Too late. Her hyperventilating caused an abrupt drop in the amount of oxygen going to her brain and she lost consciousness. She fell away from Paul and struck her head hard on the floor when she landed.
It was still early, only four o'clock, but Elise wanted to talk to Louis awhile before they ate. She wanted to talk about their relationship and where it was headed. Even though they've only had a single date she felt the time was right. She has had this talk twice before, and both times the man didn't want to see her anymore, which was what she had wanted. But this time she desired the opposite, though she did not know why. Elise walked in a near daze to Louis' apartment thinking about what she would say to him. She arrived at his room still not sure what she was going to say. She knocked. Like she was, Louis was not selected to take place in the assault. Louis answered the door. "Elise." He said surprised that she had arrived so early. He looked at his watch. "You're early." "I thought we could have a talk before we ate." Elise said trying to bring a smile to her face but she failed. Louis' face went slack. "Oh." He said glumly. "I know. You had second thoughts about last night didn't you?" All of the happiness he had possessed when he opened the door and saw Elise had been drained from him. "Oh, no! Not that." Elise had said something wrong or pushed the wrong button. "I thought last night was incredible." She spoke honestly. "Thank goodness." Louis said as if a three-ton weight had been lifted from him. "I thought you came here to break up with me." He was infinitely relieved. She stepped across the threshold and Louis shut the door behind her. "But I do want to talk about us. Where our relationship is going." At first she wanted to be discreet, but she could thing of anything else to say in place. "Oh." "I thought about this all day and I can find no other way to tell you but I'm going to give it my best shot." Elise said not daring to make eye contact. "Go on." "I think we have something special, and I want us to get serious about it." She used the same line she used the two other times she had this talk. "Yes. I think so too." Louis agreed genuinely. "You do! That's wonderful!" Elise's worry was assuaged by his concurrence. "I feel so much better now." The dining table was only a few feet away and Elise pulled a chair out and sat down facing away from the table. Louis grabbed a chair and placed it in front of Elise and sat down. He took her hands in his and squeezed them tenderly. Elise looked into his eyes for the first time since she had entered his room. She leaned forward and kissed his lips as if to say 'thank you.' "I can't say how good it feels to get that off my chest." She said with a buoyancy in her that it seemed that she would just lift off of her chair and float around the room. "I love you." Louis said as he gazed into her emerald eyes. "I've loved you since the first moment I saw you." His confession had stunned Elise. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if she loved him in return or not. "It's okay if you don't feel the same way I do, I just wanted you to know that I genuinely love you." He spoke with a sincerity that surprised Elise. Not sure what to say Elise just nodded. Louis smiled sweetly and gave her a tender kiss. Remembering that he had to cook, Louis stood up and walked to the refrigerator. "Since you're here, you can decide what we can eat for dinner." Louis said as he walked into the kitchen. That's something I can answer. Elise thought to herself. "What do you have in there?" "Chicken legs, lamb cutlets, and a roast. But it's a little late to start the roast, it will take too long, unless you want to eat around nine." Louis said jokingly. "How about the lamb?" Elise replied. "Lamb it is then." Louis said as he pulled out two frost covered packages from the freezer. "We'll be eating around seven or so. That gives us three hours to kill." He placed the frozen meat into the pans and programmed the oven to do the rest of the work. Elise had never felt happier in her life. She had a man that loved her, truly loved her for the first time in her life. She stood and walked over to him. A smile drew across her face. Wrapping her arms around his waist she pressed her body against him. She rested her head on his chest. Using one arm Louis pulled Elise's warm body closer, and with his other arm he stroked her dark auburn hair. Standing in each other's arms, feeling their hearts beat, it felt as if they were a single entity but with two individual thoughts. Their embrace felt right. As Louis slid his fingers through Elise's thick hair he knew that they would end up in bed together again. He could feel it as if it passed through the air like falling leaves from autumn trees. Despite the heated thoughts of passion drifting through his mind, he thought of the extraordinary child that revealed the locations of the Machines and he sympathized for him. If the rumors were true, and if that the escaped scientist was telling the truth to the parents then they were in some deep shit. The parents could go to the press and blow the entire ADIT system out of the water, but they probably wouldn't do that because they had no proof. Anyway Louis looked at it, the parents were dangerous to ADIT and they had to be silenced as quickly as possible. He was not a vengeful man but for some reason he wanted to see the family before they were killed, just out of pure curiosity. Though he personally wanted them to go free. He had seen the pictures of them, and there was something about that woman, something that he could not grasp, something that lay just beyond the spectrum of his senses, something that eluded him like a fly evading a swinging hand, just something.
3
When Emily woke up, it felt like she was beaten senseless, again. A knot had swelled up on the back of her head the size of a large marble, but she did not know when she had hit her head. However, if it was of any consolation, her leg was feeling much better, only causing slightly more discomfort than it usually does. She would be able to go with Paul without him worrying about her every step of the way, and that was a relief to her. Her thoughts were muddied by her pounding headache, and her vision clouded by the dull, unrelenting pulses of pain from the back of her head. Despite the hindrance to her sight, she was able to discern from her surroundings that she was laying on the couch in the living room. She tilted her head to the right and saw a blurred figure sitting not too far away. "Paul?" She said to the obscured silhouette with more vigor than she thought she could muster. Nearly immediately the form moved. "Emily?" It was Paul, and he sounded worried, or was it concern that shaped his voice, Emily could not tell because her headache inhibited her thoughts. "I'm thirsty." Her entire mouth felt like sand. Slowly, her vision cleared. She was able to see that another person was sitting at her feet. She was also able to see Paul move from the place where he sat and shoot into the kitchen. The water was turned on. Then a few seconds later, the water running through the faucet was silenced. Paul returned with a cup of cool water, but Emily didn't care if Paul gave her dog piss to drink, as long as it was something wet. Paul placed the cup on the table next to him and helped her to achieve a reclined position so she can more easily drink the cool liquid that he had brought. Paul handed her the cup. Moisture had already formed along the sides of the plastic. Not completely sure of her coordination, Emily held the cup in both hands and tilted it into her mouth allowing its contents to slowly pour in. The cool water stung Emily's teeth slightly and evicted the aridity that had taken tenancy inside her mouth. It was almost ambrosial the way it felt when the moisture had reclaimed what the dryness had once occupied. Pulling the cup away, her thirst quenched, she let out a sigh of relief. "You need anything else, sweetheart?" Paul asked in a soothing yet worried voice. People's voices could tell you so much about how they feel. Only a few gifted souls could totally mask their true emotions in their inflections. Emily could tell how Paul felt just by listening to him speak. It was almost as easy for her as it was to read a book. Paul was not one of those people who could disguise their voice. Emily shook her head. "What happened? Why do I have a pounding headache?"
"You passed out and hit your head on the floor." Another voice said from the other side of the room. It was Gary. Emily's vision was almost clear now. She could make out Paul's handsome face except that the details were fuzzy. She could see him turn towards Gary, but he didn't say anything. If he did it probably would have been along the lines of, 'Nice job of being sensitive, asshole.' Maybe he wouldn't have added the 'asshole' part. From the bathroom Emily heard quick footsteps rushing down the hall. Then she heard Helen. "I thought I heard Mom talk. Is she awake yet?" She burst into the room and looked straight at her mother, who was still not entirely clearheaded. With a speed and agility only a child possesses, she shot through the small gap between the couch and the repositioned chair Paul was sitting at, spun one hundred eighty degrees and bent over and hugged Emily. She performed that feat before Emily could react to her sudden appearance in the room. Grasping tightly around her shoulders, the eleven year-old let her emotions go with an ease that many adults try to but rarely succeed. Maybe the child could demonstrate their emotions easier because the shunning of society did not yet tainted their growing minds. "I was so worried about you Mom." She was near tears. "There's no reason to worry, it was just a little bump on the head. I'm fine now." She lied. She hated lying, but she was trying to calm her daughter. But it failed. It might have been because Emily was unable to completely quell the uneasiness in her voice. Helen burst into tears. They were not tears for her mother, or for herself. They were not tears for her missing sibling. They were not tears of pain, sympathy, or agony. They were born of the accumulation of the facts that their lives that were forever changed, she had lost everything except that what she had with her when she left school, and seeing the old man die before her eyes. Paul stood and removed Helen from Emily and consoled her in his strong yet tender arms. Rocking her slowly back and forth while making ever-softening shhh sounds. He was able to return Helen to the commanding position over her emotions, and her sobs quieted, and then fell silent completely. Looking Helen in her red, puffy eyes Paul asked, "You okay now?" Helen nodded her head, not risking opening her mouth to omit words, for it may cause another outburst of tears. Emily watched Paul as he handled their daughter's emotions as if he was carrying a dozen eggs, with gentleness and care. He was a good father and Emily was glad that she had found the right man on her first shot with a serious relationship. After they had been married for a few months Emily began to think that maybe she had rushed into things and that Paul would become harsh and abusive later in their marriage, but those were unjustified fears. He has never raised his hand in anger and has only raised his voice in their most heated arguments, which she could count on a single hand, which she thought wasn't bad for eleven years. She considered herself very lucky now that she has had a chance to look back over her decisions. Helen walked away and sat in a chair at the far end of the room, probably to calm her emotions even further. Paul couldn't blame her for reacting the way she did. So much has happened over the past few days and it simply overloaded her. He turned his attention towards Emily. Sitting on the edge of the couch, he took her hands in his. A loving gaze fell over his face as he stared into Emily's eyes. "I love you." Emily said. He kissed her forehead. "I love you too. And I promise you that we'll get Chris back." He released her hands and stood to face Gary, who had his back turned so as not to appear vexatious. To Gary he said, "We'll have to have a plan to get into that place, get Chris and get out without attracting too much attention. Plus if you get killed before we get there, we'll be lost." "You're right." He didn't sound enthused about his treachery to the people he had worked for, but he knew that he was taking the morally right path.
Dinner was exquisite, but Louis thought it wasn't nearly as satisfying in comparison to the love they made before. Which was far better than the first time. It was more rhythmical, more sensuous. The image of her seething body falling and rising in gratification was etched into his memories. The way she felt when her sensations culminated into an explosion was eternally engraved in his mind. Breaking his chain of thought and the conversation they were carrying, the intercom shattered the moment and chatted away like a wounded bird. "All selected pilots report to their ships, all selected pilots report to their ships. Attack will commence in forty minutes." Though the closest intercom speaker was located thirty feet from Louis' room, the sound it generated was heard clearly from the table Louis and Elise sat at. Then as abruptly as the interruption began, it ended with a click and the patting of feet running down the halls. "What chances do think we have?" Elise asked about the upcoming battle. "If the Machine was debilitated as badly as the last five were then we have a good chance. But if the thing is firing on all of its cylinders, then we might as well fill out our wills right now." The prospect of their possible deaths stared at them with a malevolence that would make a person with a weaker mind than they possessed crawl into the fetal position in a dark corner of the room. But Elise and Louis faced death every time they went out on these missions, so they were used to it. They batted death from their minds easier than shooing away a pesky insect.
"What do you think'll happen?" She was mildly concerned about the outcome of the battle, which was mystifying to Louis. This was her fourth year with ADIT, surely by know she would be apathetic or at least indifferent to the possibility of an early visit to the grave. Something was odd about her that had changed since the last time he saw her. Answering as honestly as he could he said, "I think the Machine will be just like the other's. So there's no reason to be worried about it." "Oh." Elise said, but she was distant. "What's wrong?" Louis asked trying to unravel the truth that she was hiding. "It's nothing." "It has to be something, or else you wouldn't be so concerned about if we win or not." Louis didn't like to waste time, he went straight to the point. Her gaze was fixed on her empty plate. Her hands were nervously tumbling around each other on the table. Something was bothering her. "I want out." "Out of what?" The ambiguity of her statement worried Louis. She might be having second thoughts of their relationship, but that wouldn't make sense.
"I want my life back." She wanted to be rid of ADIT. "But the government's files say you're dead, there's no way you can go back." Louis tried to face the painful truth. "I don't care, I want a family of my own, while I'm young." ADIT placed infertility drugs in the food that they fed their employees. That is so that they don't have to worry about any children that may be born from the employees. If you wanted to call them employees. Louis wanted to propose to her right there, but it was too early, way too early. Anyway the situation didn't feel right. He wanted it to be romantic when he asked her to marry him. "Whatever you choose, I'll stay with you all the way." He placed his hands over hers. "Thank you. I can't say how much that means to me." She looked at him and forced a thin smile. "But." "You don't have to say anything, being able to see your beautiful face is enough for me." "I." Elise swallowed hard. "I'm in love with you." Louis felt like jumping out of his seat and celebrating with a dance, but he controlled himself. The unadulterated joy he felt when Elise confessed her love to him was surging in him like a benevolent storm. He felt lighter than a feather sitting in his chair, looking at Elise's emerald eyes. "Will you help me get out of here?" Elise said. "I know that's asking quite a bit, but I won't be able to do it by myself." "Of course I'll help you." Louis was faced with a dilemma, and wished not to tell Elise about this until he knew they were strong enough to handle it.
"What do you mean they can't be found!" "We can't find them. They killed the last agents that were sent to silence them." "The kid." "What about the kid?" "He's psychic, he'll know were they are." "But Walter's dead and Gary's gone." "Then bring in other scientists. Do I have to think of everything?!" "Yes, sir." "Tell Mr. Holliday to assemble his crew, he's to come here ASAP." "Of course, sir."
Detected: Arm Vessels -unidentified- Activate: Resource Synthesizing Activate: Resource Storage Facilities Error: Storage 4e 5m 1m malfunction -[reroute resource conduction]- Complete: Resource Production Activate: Production Racks {-Interceptors (1-30)-Fighters (31-45)-Cruisers (46-50)-} Error: Racks inoperable *1 3 4 6 9 15 24 31 35 38 41 42 45 48 50* -[shutdown faulty racks]-
4
The massive hanger doors opened revealing the black emptiness of space. The Pulsars slowly left the security of their respective Enterprise's almost reluctantly. Their mission is to distract the enemy fighters while the Enterprises move in and fire their quantum lasers at the Machine. With the Machine down, the smaller units it produced will be easier targets. Once the Machine is down, the fighters or whatever it makes will be unable to effectively communicate between each other and resultantly, their coordination will be compromised. By groups of five they left the confides of the hangers, spilling out into the vast vacuum surrounding them. Outside the hangers, the universe seemed to explode around them. It was entirely psychological of course. It was the effect of leaving a smaller area and entering a larger one. The stars, for a split second, shone brighter than they ever did before. Several thousand meters to their left the Machine floated in the middle of the void. It was so dark, the only details that gave its position away were the absence of stars in its proximity, and the faint almost invisible glare that the Enterprise's lights projected onto the harsh metallic surface. The Machine seemed to be staring at them with the hatred of a demon. It seemed to be throwing off literal waves of icy animosity. It chilled the pilots to the bone, tying their intestines in knots so tight that it seemed that it would be impossible to relax them again. Then like hungry dogs rushing to the sounding of a dinner bell, the Machine dumped out dozens of fighters that seemed to be screaming for blood. "HOLY SHIT!" One of the pilots shouted as his radar lit up like a Christmas tree. The radar on one of the Enterprise's was so cluttered with contacts that it looked like a single pulsing screen of green. Despite being outnumbered by a large amount and growing larger with every passing moment, the pilots had a few aspects going for them. For one, they were human, and everybody knows that no machine can out think a human. Secondly, they were organized. The swarms of units that spewed from the mouth of the Machine were in no way organized, no computer could coordinate that many targets simultaneously. Could it? One hundred twenty versus three hundred and growing. The odds weren't good, in fact they were down right terrible, but the pilots in the Pulsars were well trained and could take down several enemy targets before they were destroyed, but those were in the simulations. And simulations, no matter how accurate, were still far from the real experience. "All wings, engage enemy." The attack command was given. The Pulsars accelerated to top speed and streaked towards the growing mass of Core space fighters. The Enterprises fired their small anti-fighter cannons into the pulsating cloud of friendly and enemy forces. Surely, every shot made contact. It was like shooting the proverbial fish in a barrel, they were going to hit something. From the view of the pilots in the Pulsars, it appeared as if hell had unleashed its fury on this sector of space. Countless numbers of laser shots raced back and forth regardless of where the pilots looked.
Louis was cleaning the table off while Elise relieved herself in the bathroom. That was when the news came that he didn't want to hear. Someone was knocking at the door. Knock knock. Louis slowly traversed across the room. He knew what the man on the other side of the door wanted. Louis just wanted to disappear. Reluctantly, he opened the door revealing the bearer of the unwanted news. "Mr. Holliday?" The man asked. He was young looking, probably nineteen. Blonde hair, blue eyes the classic woman's dream. But he was only about five four, too short to fully portray the appearance genetics had partially given him. He had a squeaky, nasal voice that almost sent chilly vibrations up Louis' spine. "Yes." Louis said flatly. "Mr. Doherty has ordered you to assemble your four man crew, you have been called up for a manhunt. You have ten minutes. I have a shuttle waiting for you. "I'll need more than ten minutes!" "I have my orders, and you have yours. I suggest you follow them." Louis didn't like this man. He was too sure of himself. Maybe that wasn't all of it. On some level the man standing before Louis deserved to be hated. He didn't know why but he felt it. He felt it in the hardness of gaze, the way he held his head as he walked. The blonde haired man left, leaving Louis to solve his own problems. It wasn't just a regular manhunt he was being placed in command of, this was a search and destroy mission. Last night when he had returned from Elise's apartment, he had found two men in his room and they explained what they wanted him to do. He was to go find the Ham family and silence all of them. That left him with his dilemma. He didn't have the heart to kill in cold blood, especially when his targets were completely innocent. But he couldn't disobey orders. Quickly he thought of three people and he would bring them with him. But a question kept nagging him from deep within his mind. Should I do the right thing, or follow orders?
Outside the battle raged with more fury than an erupting volcano. Pulsars flew in erratic paths evading heavy weapon fire. Often the pilots had three and four bogeys harassing them. Streaks of blue, crimson, and gold tore through the battlefield as often as raindrops fell during a violent rainstorm. From a distance the spectacle would be breathtaking, but up close it was like living a page from the Book of Revelations. Only fifty seconds had expired off Father Time's master clock since the battle began, but to the pilots it seemed as if three hours had ticked away. It was at that point when the first Core cruisers were spotted exiting the gaping mouth of the Machine. Three in all, they immediately began to feel the sting of the heated battle when they broke free from the Machine. The action was so close to the Machine that many Pulsars were able to fly up into the belly of the thing and take out a few production racks while they were in there before they slammed into a steel wall, disintegrating their bodies instantaneously. Despite the gradual reduction in racks the Machine could produce with, nothing could be done to slow the speed at which the gargantuan mechanism expelled units. Up close, the Machine loomed over the battlefield the way a medieval king would watch the brutal games the knights would play for their honor and his entertainment. Its appearance was haunting, no lights whatsoever existed on its interior or on any part of its exterior. It still looked as if it wasn't really there and was only an illusion from the absence of light, and the coherent absence of detail. It looked as if a void had opened up and was not permitting any light to pass through its greedy jaws. But it was not an illusion or mirage, and many Core fighters and Pulsar pilots alike learned this harsh lesson when they were hurtled into the steely surface of the Machine destroying them. Each time a fighter struck the surface and exploded a small portion of the Machine was lit up, exposing a colorless steel gray surface with protrusions of the same hard steel that transformed the surface of the thing into a metallic forest. A forest in which the only life that prevailed were the microscopic organisms that clung to the sides of anything and fed off whatever minute amounts of nutrients that existed on their, most often, barren surfaces. Seven Core cruisers were active, firing their anti-fighter cannons attempting to knock out the invading Pulsars, but they were inflicting more damage to their own fighters than to the speedy Pulsars as they wildly evaded the energy blasts.
On board the Enterprise named "Victoria" the action was the intense. Since it was the closest to the battle, it had sustained considerably more damage than the other eleven Enterprises, but it was still able to operate at its full potential. "Those Cruisers must go down now." Captain Richards announced to the crew that was on the bridge. "We can't get close enough to fire the quantum laser, sir." Mike Wells, the navigation officer, commented. "I don't give a damn!" Richards snapped. "Morris," He turned to face the communications officer. "Contact the 'Conquistador,'" The "Conquistador" was another of the Enterprises that were present at the ferocious battle and the Enterprise that was in command over the remainder of the fleet. "Tell them that we are advancing to remove the enemy cruisers. Then cut off the communication." "Yes, sir." Morris knew that what they were doing would get them in some deep shit with their superiors, but they would follow any orders Captain Richards gave them. The massive ship slowly accelerated into the flowing mass of fighters.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Captain Dumas, the captain on board the "Conquistador," barked into the communications device located on his seat. "Answer me 'Victory,' DAMMIT ANSWER ME!" He had given them no order to advance into the battle. The only order he had given was to fire at the enemy fighters with the anti-fighter cannons. "Sir, the 'Victory' has closed all of its frequencies." The communications officer said. "God dammit!" Captain Dumas smashed his fist into the armrest on his chair. The polycarbonate casing on the armrest shuddered with the impact but did not break. There was nothing he could do to stop the "Victory." He was powerless, and he hated being powerless. He loved to be in control of everything around him. It was like an obsession. Now someone had deprived him of that, and he was furious. He would make sure that Captain would never command another ship the rest of his career, that is if he made out of there alive.
Plunging into the swarming mass of fighters the "Victory" had leaped from the frying pan into the fire. Several Core fighters slammed into the sides of the massive vessel. The ship shuddered violently when the fighters collided with it. The collisions only lasted a few moments until the spacecraft began to avoid the gargantuan frigate. The "Victory" looked like a Great White shark swimming through a huge school of miniscule minnows.
"What's going on?!" Elise said in a commanding tone. Louis had rushed into the shower told her to get dressed; they were leaving. "No time to explain. We have to get to the docking bay." Louis had not told her why he had dragged her from his cabin and was leading her to the docking bay. Elise halted. "Dammit Louis! I don't like being left in the dark about anything! Now, tell me!" Anger flared in her eyes. He had seen her depressed, happy, tipsy, disconcerted, but he had never seen her hostile. Louis gave her an abridged version of what had transpired that forced him to pull out of active battle duty and into a manhunt. He had three minutes to get to the docking bay or he would miss his transport. If he missed his transport, he would probably be removed from ADIT. ADIT didn't like tardiness, especially on something as high in importance as this mission was. Realizing his predicament Elise said as she started to bolt for the docking bay, "Well then hurry!" Louis quickly followed.
Herald Rager pulled hard to starboard, narrowly avoiding an out of control spacecraft hurtling towards him. Though the Core fighter had passed just inches from his Pulsar, he heard no sound. He knew space conducts sound at the same intensity as air conducts electricity. This was because sound requires a molecular medium to travel through. Consequently sound was completely nonexistent in the emptiness of space. That odd accommodation was difficult to adjust to. No matter where Herald looked, Core fighters filled his vision. They were outnumbered at least six to one now, and that margin was steadily increasing. Herald didn't see how they could possibly hope to knock out enough of these fighters so the Enterprises could get close enough to destroy the Machine, not when the Machine kept pumping fighters into the battle faster than the Pulsars could take them down. This was a losing battle, even though only four Pulsars were shot down compared to sixty Core fighters. A feeling of helplessness began to burn inside him. At first, it was only a small ember, hardly noticeable. Just a small inconvenience. But the longer the battle raged, the brighter and hotter that ember burned. It grew until it was a candlelight, then a torch, then a bonfire. Now it was a towering inferno, burning with all the heat that the fires of hell blazed with. His ability to hold that feeling down was proportional to the heat of the flame inside. He was straining with every once of his will power to keep fighting, but he knew he was nearing his breaking point. Then he would not just be fighting on orders, he would be trying to get out of the battle, even if it meant dying in the process, and Herald didn't want to die, not just yet.
Elise did not know why she had gone along with Louis. The situation that Louis had explained to her did not sound inviting, but she had gone anyway. Why? She asked herself over and over, but every time, she drew a blank. Maybe it was because she was afraid of losing Louis. That thought chilled her to the bone. Maybe that was the reason why. She was afraid of losing the first man to treat her like a woman, instead of treating her like a piece of beef. Stepping off the elevator Elise nearly ran into a janitor that was mopping the decks. He had a gray beard and his hair was a matching shade. A few wrinkles marked his face around his eyes and by his lips. He appeared to be around sixty. She stopped suddenly, then sidestepped around him and took off. Louis was a few yards ahead of her. The janitor was shouting at them from behind. "Slow down ya' hoodlums!" He was probably shaking his fists at them to complete the cliché. But Elise didn't look back. She didn't care. Several questions kept running through her mind. Who was this 'kid'? Why is so important that his parents be killed? The former pressed harder against her than the latter. Maybe it was because he was only eight years old. That was all the information about the boy that Louis gave her. He told her that it was better to know too little in this situation than to know enough. That brought up another question. What was "to know enough" supposed to mean? But Elise knew that she would know the answer to this later, and that she would be terrified of the answer. A shiver ran the length of her spine.
Pitching left, rolling right, nose-diving, Herald evaded enemy fire, but only barely at times. The towering inferno of emotion that burned inside him had grown in intensity to a flame of apocalyptic proportions. One so hot and furious that Satan himself would run in terror from it. He still was able to hold back that sense of helplessness. But not only was he fighting a losing battle on the physical plane, he was fighting one on the psychological one as well. He was becoming mentally fatigued from suppressing the urge to run and save his skin. Grayness had begun to cloud the outer extents of his peripheral vision. He was having difficulty concentrating on the controls under his hands. He could not give up, he must go on. Surrender is never an option. Then he saw the "Victory" rush into the battlefield, guns firing. Though it was sustaining heavy damage from its attack, it was shooting down Core fighters with its anti-fighter cannon just as easily as an eagle's wings cut through the air. The anti-fighter cannons that were mounted on all of the Enterprises had a maximum damage output high enough to destroy a mid-size fighter with a single shot. The Core fighters that were present were ancient in comparison to the Pulsars and therefore stood no chance against them, let alone the Enterprise's anti-fighter cannons. But what the Core fighters lacked in technology, they made up in numbers and an infinite supply of them. Upon seeing the "Victory" plunge head first into the battle a great deal of the fire burning inside him was extinguished. Though not all of the flame was eradicated, he could still feel it dancing across his nerves.
Max sat in his office waiting for a call from one of his agents. Even though he was a part of ADIT, he had several agents that worked directly beneath him. They were used for spying, espionage, and countless other acts that would be too dangerous to his career if he were caught in the act. There was no way his agents could be traced back to him. The call he was expecting would be from Norman on the "United" Enterprise. Norman was watching Louis Holliday. The phone buzzed with activity. Max snatched the receiver from its cradle and brought it to his ear. "I am the door." The voice spoke from the other end, it was Norman. He said the first of a two-part message that must be given before either could speak. It was a way of making sure that they were taking to the right person. "I am the sky." His part of the message was to signify that it was him on this end of the line and that he was alone. "Mr. Holliday has just boarded his shuttle and will be arriving on Deneb in three hours." "Very good. How did he react to being assigned to the mission?" "He seemed hesitant. Therefore I believe that he may not follow his orders as efficiently as his file dictates. I suggest we locate another person to handle this." "No. If Mr. Holliday does not follow his orders we will activate his cerebral interruption device. Normally, I would find another person to handle a mission of this importance but we are strapped for time. We haven't been able to get the kid to find his parents for us and we have reason to suspect that they will be coming in the next day or two." "If they are coming so soon why don't we increase the security at the installation?" "Because we don't have the manpower and we can't be sure if they will show up or not. I don't have the authority to pull that many men off of other assignments onto security." "Is there a possibility that Dr. Wallace is assisting them?" "That is definitely a contingency we must prepare for. If he is helping them they have a very good chance." "Should we be worried about anyone assisting them other than Dr. Wallace?" "I don't think that will be a concern." "I don't like the idea of only having the existing security present when they show up." "Neither do I, but we don't have much of a choice in this matter." "I will contact you as soon as I have more information." Norman killed the communication. Max was lying when he told Norman that they had insufficient men to increase the security. The truth was that most of the extra manpower was under his control and they were gathering critical pieces of the Machines that were left in the debris. It was a giant conspiracy to create a Machine that would produce attack units for ADIT. Once they had a Machine, they could overthrow the existing Arm Galactic Empire and implant a completely militaristic government. A government in which only a few souls possessed control. It was all about power. Power and control. Those were the only things that mattered in life, and Max was very close to obtaining both. All he needed was the Machine, and his underlings were gathering the information he required to construct one. The prospect of having total dictatorship control was more exhilarating than sleeping with the most beautiful women in the galaxy. He was about to attempt to perform a task that a former Admiral (Max had forgotten his name) had attempted but failed. But Max would succeed where he did not. Max saw the problems in the old Admiral's scheme. The biggest problem was that he tried to capture an existing Machine. Max knew that that would take too long and would be time consuming. Instead, Max was going to build a Machine of his own. There were problems with Max's plan too, but Max knew of them. He thought that if he had an alternate course of action to fall back to, the problems didn't really exist. But there was one that he could not get rid of. There were several men that would be in control once they took over. Max knew that each of the others was devising a course of action that would remove the rest of the men in the circle so that they were the only one to have the control they all desired. Max figured that they could let a small child go for the sake of galactic domination. Max dreamed about how it would feel once he had totalitarian control. In each of these daydreams he was standing on a high pedestal while thousands of people lay abject to his authority. He woke from his brief fantasy. His pants bulged with an erection. He was aroused by the mere possibility of achieving his dream. Then he had second thoughts about just letting the kid and his parents go. That wasn't how a real dictator would handle the matter. A real dictator would kill the parents for interfering with the government and would kill the boy once he had been wrung clean of usefulness. That was how he would deal with this situation, he would be there to watch them die. The thought of exercising the control of an autocrat nearly made him pass out from pleasure. He imagined the face of the parents as he told them that he was the one who ordered the kidnapping of the boy. Once he hit them with that revelation, he would shoot them both. His entire body was shaking in delight. If a secretary or someone else walked into the room right now, it would look as if he was gripped by a seizure. They couldn't know how far from the truth that that was. Now he had the decision of where to shoot them and who to shoot first. It was almost too much. He would shoot them both in the chest, but he would shoot that pretty blonde first and see the torment in that man's eyes as he witnessed the life drain from his wife's body. Then he would kill the man. For several minutes he thought of how it might feel to kill two people, the sheer power that he would hold. He knew that he would hold the greatest power anyone could possibly command, the power over another's life. When his consciousness rose from his self-induced delirium, he noticed that his underwear was stained with semen. He needed to change his underwear so he pressed the intercom button on his desk to open a line to his secretary. He told her that he was leaving for his lunch break, and that he would be back in an hour. He had intentions of eating, but first he went to his cabin and slipped into a fresh pair of underwear. He took the soiled pair and threw them in his pile of dirty clothes. He decided that he would eat lunch in the cafeteria.
Louis was wondering how anybody could follow these outrageous orders. Two other parties of men had already been sent after the Ham family. The thought that his colleagues even attempted to carry out these orders made Paul sick to his stomach. Then Paul remembered that when anyone joins ADIT, a small device is implanted into their brain. The cerebral interruption device. Paul had done a little illegal investigating into ADIT's computers. The cerebral interruption device, or CID, emits a small burst of electricity into the part of the brain that controls the conscience of the person. So that when they are given an order they will follow it to the letter if their CID is activated. But there was a problem with them. They also interfered with their ability to make rational decisions in a state of emergency. That was why the other groups were killed. They couldn't make proper decisions that the situation called for. Somehow, Louis had to find a way to not kill the Ham's and not to have his CID activated. He could not think straight. His mind was cluttered with panicked thoughts that showed no sign of quitting. But the CID also had a limited transmission range. If he could get out of that range, he would be safe from control. But Louis didn't know that range.
5
The time in the cabin was ticking away slower than Emily had thought possible. The hours that passed seemed like days. Looking up at the clock, expecting it to read five o'clock or later, she was stunned that it showed that the hands pointed towards twelve thirty. She let out a sigh of frustration. She was tempted to rip the clock off the wall and shake it to pieces as if she could will time to flow faster. She remained in control and did not tear the timepiece from its moorings on the wall. Gary and Paul were still discussing how they would enter the facility and retrieve Chris. Emily could care less how they got her little boy back, just as long as they got him back. The process meant nothing to her, but she knew that they would tell her what they were going to do so she would not have to be talked through it while they were executing their plan. Emily sat quietly at the end of the kitchen table sipping some black coffee and waited. She waited in a silence that seemed to have a life of its own.
"Cruisers within range, sir!" Mike Wells shouted, raising his voice over the nearly constant rattle of the ship as it was being pelted with laser fire from all around. "Target the closest one and fire the quantum laser!" Captain Richards commanded. It took the quantum laser a few seconds to charge completely. The high- pitched hum of the electrons becoming excited was hardly audible over the louder crashes of the ship being attacked if you pressed your ear against the wall that separated the laser's chamber from the rest of the ship. The sapphire colored laser fired and made contact with its target nearly instantaneously. The laser only lasted a few seconds but the damage was wrought. The cruiser split in two and exploded. Bright blue flames covered the wreckage, as it was slowly fell to pieces and collapsed with another explosion. Not all of the pieces that exploded contained an explosive or combustible material. Those phenomena were because of the side effects of the quantum laser. The quantum laser caused the material's electrons that it struck to become super-excited. Thus it made the material highly explosive. Though the impact area of the laser was only five yards across, the side effect was carried throughout the entire target, but the larger the target, the less of an effect the beam had. That was why all of the Enterprises had to fire upon the Machines. It was too large for a single quantum laser.
Herald didn't see the "Victory" fire its quantum laser, but he saw the ramifications of the beam. The Core cruiser exploded emitting a shockwave that was felt by every ship in the battlefield. His ship shuttered but held together sustaining very little inherent hull damage. With the "Victory" now fighting toe-to-toe in the battle, the odds just got a little better. But the "Victory" could not stay in this proximity for very long. Because of its monolithic stature every shot that was fired in its direction found its mark. Its hull integrity was dropping steadily. It may be able to last another five, maybe seven minutes tops in this unrelenting assault. After blasting a Core fighter and sending it to hell, Herald glanced at his radar. There was a huge mass of green contacts in the center of the screen, but a small dot registered well out of the battlefield. Herald's first thought that it was a crippled Core fighter that had drifted away from the battle. He knew it couldn't be a Pulsar because they had stealth plating, and it couldn't be an Enterprise, because the only one that had moved was the "Victory." Then the thing changed direction. That nullified the crippled fighter theory. Curious, he set out after it. Flying by the odd Core fighter slowly, Herald took a risk by decelerating. But when he sailed by the queer fighter without incident, Herald was disconcerted. Why hadn't the thing attacked him? He thought that maybe it had accidentally slipped into return fire mode. Herald lined up the stable target and fired. The lasers made contact on the ships starboard side, but it did not return fire or change course. It couldn't have slipped into hold fire mode because Core units were purged of that option long before the final years of the war, because they kept falling into hold fire mode in the middle of battle. So the Core Consciousness extracted that arbitrary setting. Herald believed that knowing your enemy was critical in making decisions in the heat of battle. Now, his research was paying off, but he still could not reason why the fighter was not defending itself. Then a question popped into his mind that had no logical basis. Was it defective? The production technology that the Core had possessed surely was adequate to produce a million units without a flaw in any of them. But he was staring at a faulted creation. How was this possible?
6
"No! I can't tell them where they are! You can't make me!" The voice coming from inside the sensory deprivation chamber was muffled a great deal but it was still audible. "Continue the probing, Dr. Terrell." Max stood in the far corner of the room that housed the sensory deprivation chamber that contained the kid. He had arrived just minutes ago, but he was not going to leave until the parents arrived and were dead. Dr. Terrell was an immense human being. To call him fat would be giving him a complement. He was obese. The rolls of fat hung over his tight pants like eaves overhanging a wraparound terrace. However, wraparound terraces are architecturally tasteful. This man's disgusting flab was not tasteful in the least. He reminded Max of a marshmallow that had been heated and resultantly swollen out of proportions. Dr. Terrell turned and looked at Max. His face was badly aged. He looked to be about seventy, but in reality he was only in his early fifties. Max was surprised that he had lived this long. His round face was accented by hideous globs of fat that almost dangled from the man's cheeks. He spoke. "I have made the connection, we can see most of what he's thinking." When the man spoke his face quivered like he was in an earthquake. The vibrations carried all the way down his throat making it shake like a baby's rattle. Resisting the urge to vomit Max hesitantly walked over to the computer he was working at. Max could smell the sweat that poured from the obese man's pores. The stench made Max want to run for the door, but he repressed that urge. "So what's he thinking?" "Well, we won't be able to see all of what he's thinking. The technology is still quite primitive. But we may be able to find where his parents are by asking him where they are." His face jiggled with every syllable he enunciated. Trying not to look at him Max said, "It's that simple?" "Normally it is. Since we are dealing with a child, we should be able to acquire the information you need." More undulations. "Well then what are you waiting for? Ask him." Max was growing impatient. Speaking into the microphone that transmitted his voice into the chamber that harbored the child. "Where are your parents?" He asked the question with more clarity than necessary, laboring over every sound so that the kid would not misinterpret him. The response was nearly instantaneous. "GET OUT! LEAVE ME, ALONE!" Those were the words that echoed hollowly off the walls. But the computer readout gave them completely different results. GET.can't tell.ME.where.ALONE.are The screen was reading a mix of what he was saying and what he was thinking. "The machine must be confused since he's thinking and speaking at the same time." The doctor stated the completely obvious with more oscillations in his facial skin. They're trying to see what I'm thinking. "What the hell?!" Dr. Terrell shouted. "He can't possibly know that we have tapped into his conscious!" When the man yelled, his throat and face shook with the fury of a storm tossed sea. "Maybe you damaged something." Max offered a possibility that might explain the recent happenings. "No, that's impossible. I can miss the target a thousand times punching through a billion nerve cells, but it doesn't inflict any damage at all, because the device is smaller than the nucleus and therefore any damage it causes is so miniscule the body doesn't even register it and it gets repaired too quickly to cause even the slightest scar tissue." Can't think, about that place. Mountains. NO! STOP! Can't let them hurt Mommy. That tear-shaped lake. STOP! NO THINKING! No thinking about that place. Think of something else. Favorite song. The boy began to run through the lyrics of a classic rock song from the seventies on earth. Max had heard of that song before but he could not place it. No matter. The boy had given clues to where they were hiding out. He phoned his agents to look for a tear-shaped lake with mountains nearby near the Ham's place of residence. They would get him an answer quickly and would relay that to the strike team being sent there as they spoke. He gave orders that they are not to kill them on sight. Max changed their orders to capture them and bring them to him. The strike team may think it odd, but those were the orders and they had no choice but to follow them. Closing the communication Max sat in a stool by the lab table. Running over the same old ground. What have we found? Same old fears. Wish you were here. Even without the music accompanying the lyrics Max eventually identified the song as Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here." It was an average song, too soft for Max's taste. He preferred the hard, earsplitting rock chords of the death metal bands of the Earth's nineties. He liked the music that got his adrenaline pumping with their relentless, uncoordinated notes. To him, that music represented reality perfectly. Reality was as harmonized as the random thrashing of a tree's leaves being swept in a violent storm. "Should we keep his thoughts under surveillance?" The behemoth doctor asked. Max had put his back to him so he didn't have to see his trembling blubber on his throat. But it did not help too much, Max was cursed with a vivid imagination. When the doctor spoke he could still "see" the quivering tissue. "Yes. We may find something else that could be useful." Max said, trying to repress the image of the fat man in his mind. "Very well. I'm hungry, I'll be going to the cafeteria for lunch." Dr. Terrell exited the lab. He don't need to eat, Max thought to himself, he could live for weeks on his own fat. Sitting at the lab table, watching the screen scroll down, revealing the child's thoughts. He repeated the same song four times then he jumped into another. Just about a year ago, I set out on the road. This song was alien to Max. Obviously, the kid was raised with that type music and it grew on him. Oh, Lord. Stuck in Lodi again.
On the tail of an elusive Core fighter, Herald had forgotten about the stray he had found. His Rapier missiles were in the process of reloading so he fired the disrupter cannons at the slower fighter. The shots erupted from the laser's barrels with a short banshee shriek. Only Herald heard this noise because the metallic armor was a perfect conductor for the sound and the vacuum of space resisted the transmission of sound. The nanolathes that produced the Rapier missiles were working overtime. The nanolathes received its metal and energy sources from the Enterprises. Though only a finite amount could be stored on the Pulsar, its tanks could be refilled simply by coupling with one of the multiple resupply pods that the Enterprises had on board. A single tank-full of energy and metal could last hours under heavy battle conditions. The only reason the pods existed was in case one of the Pulsars was experiencing a resource leak or several other various contingencies that might fall upon the Pulsars. "Come on." He was growing impatient waiting for the missiles to be finished being constructed. He could fire the incomplete missile now, but it would be a total waste. The uncompleted ballistic would dissipate into trillions molecules, because the nanomachines had not yet connected all of the molecules into a single object. The only thing that Herald would gain from that would be pleasing his trigger finger. Hundreds of fighters battled all around him, explosions cluttered the battlefield like autumn leaves cluttered the ground in expectation of a cold winter. The risk of a mid-flight collision was very high. There was a good chance that one of your buddies could misjudge the distance he had to stop, or just didn't see you and WHAM, both your ships tear into each other like hungry wolves into a wounded rabbit. There wouldn't be much left of either ship since the anti-matter engines would rupture. The only thing that would mark where you perished would be the short-lived flash of light that occurred when anti-matter and matter combined. "Hurry up, damn you." Herald cursed the machine. He had a strong lock, all he needed now were the missiles. The computer flashed a message that meant the missiles were ready. Almost in the same instance he saw the screen flash ready, his fingers closed on the trigger that released the missiles from their bays. The ship kicked backward slightly as the Rapiers raced toward the Core fighter. The fighter tried to pull sideways and evade the missiles but the outdated vessel stood no chance. The missiles struck its engines rocketing debris hundreds of yards ahead of its final position. Glancing at his radar again to find another target Herald saw at least a dozen of Core fighters had drifted away from the battlefield. He didn't check any of them out, because he was sure that all of them were in the same condition as the first stray he found. In just a few minutes, the number of erred Core fighters had multiplied drastically. He could accept that the first stray he saw was deficient, but he could not believe that so many had been manifested defective. With a morbid curiosity Herald flew towards the Machine to inspect the fighters it was producing. Flying through the melee, he encountered another passive Core fighter. It slowly drifted away from him. Herald followed the peculiar fighter for a few seconds until it was literally vaporized by a shot from one of the "Victory's" anti-fighter cannons. His attention back to the Machine, Herald turned his Pulsar around one hundred eighty degrees. He fended off a few attacking Core fighters. Why were there so many of the fighters faulty? Herald couldn't answer that question. Unless.
Ten minutes until landing. Louis felt his stomach tie itself in a knot. He knew he couldn't bring himself to kill another human being, he would not hesitate to kill a machine, but taking away a human life was entirely different. He would be a murderer. Becoming a murderer was something that he was not prepared to do. He looked over at Elise, who was sitting next to him. She looked as if she was lost in the same runaway train of thought that had gripped him and took him along for the ride. He placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed it assuredly, though he was not sure how assuring his touch could be in his state of mind. Elise looked at his hand then at him. A look of worry lined her face. She managed to give him a thin smile. Louis retracted his hand and Elise returned to her cluttered thoughts. The shuttle they were on was very fast. It took them only forty minutes to cover what the Enterprises covered in eight hours. However, the Enterprise class frigates were not designed for speed and this vessel was. The four members of the strike team were jammed in a small seating area. The intercom crackled to life, breaking everybody from their thoughts. "There's a change in your orders. You are to capture the parents, not to kill them, repeat, do NOT kill the parents, they are to be taken alive to the facility on Eridanious. If there is anybody else in the cabin shoot them on sight. Update, we have a fix on their location and currently have a surveillance satellite watching them this minute." Louis felt a great weight lifted from his chest. He didn't have to kill them after all. But then a rush of negativity fell over him like a breaking wave. Something was wrong. Normally, these were search and destroy missions, but they were to capture these people now. Louis didn't know what it was, but he knew that they could not arrest them. He felt that a fate worse than death awaited them if they were captured. Somehow, he had to sabotage this mission.
The Machine loomed over Herald's Pulsar forbiddingly. When Herald finally beheld the full stature of the macabre complex the rest of his world seemed to disappear. The monstrous structure seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Herald stared in awe at the Machine for several seconds. It was the type of awe that people show when they witness a horrible murder, or when someone plummets to their death from a high rooftop. Those precious seconds were wasted. Snapping himself out of his almost trace-like state, Herald remembered why he had come this close to the Machine. To investigate the fighters it was creating. He didn't have to wait long, fighters were popping out every second in an almost continuous stream. Herald watched in amazement as all of the fighters drifted away from the Machine, all of them passive. How many of the fighters already in the battle were like this already? He asked himself. He thought about contacting the "Odysseus," his mother ship, and reporting his findings. But he quickly rejected that idea, he would need more proof than his word to convince them. He began to make theories while looking for proof of his claims. Maybe the Machine is running out of resources and that's causing the fighters to become defective. Herald rejected that idea as soon as he remembered that this Machine would more than likely have fusion plants as its energy source, and devices that produced metal. Maybe something happened to the main computer inside that thing. No, that couldn't be it either he told himself. Because nothing hit the Machine hard enough to inflict that much damage, and the main computer was probably deep within the Machine itself. Continuing his search for some sort of proof to show that there was something wrong with the Machine, while dog fighting the active core fighters, and while trying to think of a theory that would explain and lay proof to his claim.
7
Emily had not moved from her seat at the kitchen table. Her cup of coffee was empty and the contents had begun to dry at the bottom, but she still held it in her hands as if the porcelain mug could grant her absolution. Her gaze fixed on the light switch across the room, she thought she saw its shadow twitch. She broke from her daze and looked around. At first she thought an external source had caused the shadowy anomaly. But when her quick search had failed to locate anything that could change the objects umbra. She became disconcerted. Then as if on cue, all of the shadows in the room shifted. Startled, Emily tried to stand, but could not. Then the shadows darkened. Emily tried to call out to Paul, but her voice caught in her throat. The only sound she produced was the wheezing from the air escaping her mouth, hardly loud enough to carry two feet, let alone all the way into the living room where Paul sat. An ominous sensation of impending danger surged through her. It was like the icy touch of death pumping through her veins. She shivered though the air was warm. Her fingers felt numb with the sudden unset of the frigged waves flowing from within. Something was coming. She could feel it. It was like shards of frozen glass racking across her skin.
The excruciatingly long wait for the quantum laser to cool down enough to fire again was unbearable. Time seemed to slow down, every second ticked by reluctantly, dragging unwanted anticipation across Captain Richards' wary mind. The way time drags by when people desperately desire it to speed by, and the manner in which it blows by when it's wished that it proceed slower. Sitting in his Captain's chair, Richards sweating nervously as the brutal seconds as they drifted by. His eyes fixed on the gauge that displayed the core temperature of the quantum laser located on the bank of computers attached to the ceiling of the bridge. That bank of computers was more to display the hundreds of functions that were occurring throughout the ship.
Tension had gripped Richards by the neck and injected its poison. He could feel his fingers dig into the steel of the armrests on his chair. Without even looking at them, Richards knew his knuckles were pure white. His eyes were probably open wide and riddled with red veins. No, not probably, he knew. When at last he saw the screen flash ready, his brain almost blew apart in his skull. The agonizingly long thirty-second wait was over. With a shrill, almost raspy voice, he shouted at the top of lungs, "FIRE!" When he blurted that single, over-exaggerated word he flung his body forward, showering the grated floor in front of him with a flurry of sweat. The quantum laser fired at the second cruiser. Just like the first cruiser that fell victim to the quantum laser it exploded violently, sending a shockwave ripping through the battlefield. Two cruisers down, three to go. Why hadn't the Machine produced any more cruisers? The incessant punishment that had pounded the "Victory" felt like it was beginning to die down, but when Richards looked at the radar and saw that the number of contacts had risen to over five hundred he knew that couldn't be possible. He was just getting used to the constant vibrating of the ship from the laser and missile impacts. However, when he looked at the hull integrity readout, the amount of damage the ship was receiving had dropped off. That wasn't possible, if anything, that rate should have risen. It wasn't making any sense to Richards. "Sir," Morris said, "We're receiving a communication from one of the fighters." "Is it one of ours?" Richards asked, meaning if the ship belonged to his Enterprise or another. "It's from the 'Odysseus.' The pilot sounds like he's on drugs or something." "Put it on audio, Morris." Richards commanded. "Sir." The speakers around the bridge popped and sizzled with static as the pilot's voice came across, though it was still discernable. "Someone, for the love of God, answer me!" Speaking to the pilot, Richards tried to discover why the pilot had gone onto an emergency frequency. "This is the 'Victory,' state your name." "Oh, thank God. Someone answered me. Herald Rager." The disturbance was beginning to decrease as Morris tinkered with the controls on his computer. "Why are you on the emergency frequency? You better have one good reason." Richards warned. "The fighters the Machine is making are faulty."
Watching the screen real out endless lyrics to songs, most of which Max had never heard of, he received a call on his mobile phone. "Hello." He said quickly as he activated the reception on the device. "Max, Morris." The man on the other line identified himself as one of Max's agents. "I've learned something that you may want to know." Max knew that Morris was on the "Victory" which was currently in the heat of a battle with one of the Machine's. The spaceship was probably over three hundred light years away, but they talked back and forth like they were sitting next to each other. This was made possible by a special device and frequency that was used to carry the message in. The device and frequency worked together to harness unstable gravity waves that were emitted by planets, stars, and other celestial bodies to literally propel the messages through space faster than the speed of light. The resultant was a method of interplanetary communications without the long waits. Before, it would take as many years in time as the two points in which the communication was separated by in light years. Max's current conversation with Morris would have been impossible to undertake because it would take over six hundred years for each person to say hello. "What is it?" "There's a problem with the Machines." "What kind of problem?" "After a certain amount of time it just starts to produce defective units. We don't know why, but we think it has something to do with the coolant system." "This is disturbing. If we can't fix that error with them, we may never be able to overthrow the government." This had thrown a wrench into his plan to become dictator. His mood grew dark nearly the same instant he heard the bad news. "There is some good news." "Well let's hear it." Max wanted to hear anything that may shine some light to brighten his souring mood. "The Machine we are at now is only producing faulty units. They don't attack. The units just fly around in circles." "Get to the point." "If we can gain control of the Enterprises, we may be able to keep this Machine for you intact." Possessing a Machine that was, for the moment, passive, would shorten his plan by several months. That is because he would not have to build a Machine, he would only have to rewrite this one's formatting. "Do it. Contact the other agents there and commandeer the Enterprises. I want you to bring that thing in tow to the construction site." "Yes, sir." Morris killed the conversation. He looked at the sphere that contained the child. "Soon, my boy. You're parents are coming, and then you'll be free." He waited anxiously for the arrival of the parents. He was like a little child the night before Christmas. The screen kept rolling away with lyrics. Remember when the days were long, the world beneath the deep blue sky. Didn't have a care in the world. With mommy and daddy standing by. Max didn't know this one either. Why couldn't the kid think of something he knew? Just lay your head back on the ground, let your hair spin all around me. Offer up your best defense, this is the end, this is the end of the innocence. The screen kept rolling.
Laying in the darkness, Chris filled his thoughts with the lyrics of his favorite songs. He had gone through Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," CCR's "Lodi," and he was playing Don Henley's "The End of the Innocence" right now. All of the songs seemed fitting for his situation, but he wished he could think the lyrics longer. Without the music the songs were only good for ninety seconds at most. Tears began to well in his eyes as he thought through the lyrics of "The End of the Innocence." He hadn't realized it before when he heard this song, but it was the most truthful song that he had heard. It was about how cruel the real world was in comparison to the life of a child, and how everybody dreams of being a child once again. And here Chris was, eight years old and making a connection that most adults had difficulty making, but Chris would rather not have made this connection. It depressed him. Eight years old and he is contemplating life, when he should be frivolously playing the days away in an ignorant bliss. Chris knew that he was changed, forever from this dreadful experience. He knew that once you learn something, you cannot unlearn it. He was terrified of what he had learned. Eight years old and wiser than a man of twenty.
The conversation with Herald had lifted the intense anxiety from Richards' chest. He had forgotten about the quantum laser, the cruisers, and the battle hammering the "Victory" on all sides. There was hope. Only some of those fighters out there were attacking. That was why the ship felt like it was vibrating less than it was, not because he was becoming accustomed to the relentless assault. Hope glowed like the sun rising over the horizon on a dew-covered field. Richards stood, or rather sat, in the warming light of discovery. He remembered a quote that he heard sometime in his childhood, but he could not remember who said it. Nothing is as it seems, yet everything is more than it seems. That quote fit their situation perfectly. "Morris." Richards spoke to the communications officer in a commanding yet peaceful tone. "Yes, sir?" His voice was wavering. He seemed detached. "Open me a link to all of our fighters." Richards wanted to speak to the entire armada of Pulsars. Hitting multiple buttons and throwing a few switches, Morris executed the proper sequences to grant the Captain his wish. "Done." "This is Captain Richards of the 'Victory.' We have made a discovery that is crucial to our defeating the Machine. We have discovered that the Machine we are assailing has been producing fighters of a faulty nature. Thus, only a percentage of them are attacking us. The defective fighters are totally passive. I order you to only attack the aggressive fighters; if it doesn't shoot at you, don't attack it, you will only be wasting your time. And time is not something we are in great supply of." Richards cut off the communication from his chair.
The Pulsars ceased their firing so they could listen to Richards give his statement. Following his orders all of the pilots sought out the aggressive Core fighters and began to systematically destroy them. The tides of the battle changed so suddenly the Core fighters seemed to become frightened. Though that would be impossible because they are incapable of feeling. They are merely robots and are not really people anymore. Though their programming was based on actual brains of people that had existed several thousand years ago they were not considered living even by the most liberal of thinkers, because their souls, the very essence of existence, had left this plane for another. This justified their destruction to every single person that had raised a weapon against this faceless foe. The active Core fighters were found and destroyed mercilessly, mainly because mercy could only be showed to conscious beings, and these 'things' were far from being conscious. Explosions still clouded every corner of the battlefield, but their inflection had altered from one of ominous obliteration to a feeling of righteousness. For several minutes the Core fighters fought in vain only to be destroyed in a multitude of detonating missiles and flashes of intense laser fire. All that remained now was the passive fighters that buzzed around aimlessly, harmless to the gargantuan Enterprise frigates. They were like pesky gnats, causing no damage at all to the massive vessels, just floating around, an annoyance. The anti-fighter cannons and Pulsars made quick and easy work of the bothersome defects. More brilliant explosions flashed across the emptiness of space. Soon all of the existing Core fighters were destroyed and the "Victory" was blasting the new fighters as they exited the hanger. Now all that remain to destroy was the Machine itself. The Enterprises began to move into position so they could destroy the Machine more efficiently. They would be perched around the Machine on all sides to give the greatest amount of fire coverage. It would take several long minutes for all of the Enterprises to align in their firing position.
Morris had contacted all of the agents on the other Enterprises to coordinate their undermanned mutiny. Their plan was to take complete control over the bridge of every Enterprise. The bridge was the location for the control of the quantum laser, and by taking control of the bridge they would stop the destruction of the Machine so they could follow through with Max's plan. They would wait for the Enterprises to reach their respective destinations before they would launch their scheme. It would probably only take twenty seconds to completely take over every bridge of every Enterprise, because Max had agents on the bridges of every Enterprise. All of the agents were armed with a miniature fully automatic laser pistol, very similar to the Earth's Uzi. Their plan was to kill the Captain and flush every other person on the bridge out into the hallway and trap them there between the blast doors. Once the agents were alone on the respective bridges, they would lock the door leading onto the bridge and commandeer the giant ships to use as they wished. A simple plan could not fail, and their plan was as simple a plan as plans could become.
Emily tried to rid herself of the ominous feeling that she felt when the shadows around her grew darker, but she could not. She was sure something was coming to get them, but she was afraid that Gary would not believe her and thusly would not help them get their son back. She kept telling herself that that thought was only the worry of a mother that wanted her son back more than anything. Gary would help them no matter what, but Emily still couldn't risk him thinking she was crazy. So she kept her feelings inside, bottled up. Paul walked into the kitchen to fetch himself a cup of coffee. Emily must have had a distressed appearance because as soon as he looked upon her he said, "What's wrong?" He sounded concerned. "Nothing." She lied. She hated it when she lied, but she couldn't risk Gary overhearing her. That was a stupid thought. Gary wouldn't, or shouldn't, care what she felt. Emily sat with her head hung a little low to hide her revealing eyes from Paul and with her hands in her lap so he would not see them shaking. Paul moved closer, sat in the vacant chair diagonally to Emily's left. He touched Emily's arm gently, yet reassuringly. In a soft, caring tone he said, "Please don't hide from me Emily." Emily remembered that on their wedding night they promised not to hide anything from each other. That promise had kept them from repressing their emotions until they exploded. She knew that he would press until she would tell him what was troubling her, so she saved him the effort and opened up right then. "I think we're in danger." "What do you mean 'in danger'?" Paul said inquisitively with a touch of worry in his words. "I don't know what it is, but I think something out there is coming after us. Right now I mean." Emily confessed in a monotonic voice. "It's just worry." Paul said trying to soothe her, but not sounding sure of his excuse himself. "No. It's not worry. If we don't get out of here, and I mean now whatever is coming after us is going to stop us even before we can save Chris." Emily's voice started out strong and full of adamancy, but at the end, when she thought about not being able to save Chris, her voice cracked and wavered with the unset of tears. She repressed those tears with a little effort. "Ok, we'll get out of here." When Paul saw Emily get near the brink of crying he knew she was entirely convinced that something was coming to get them. He knew she could "see" brief clips of the future or "feel" things that have not happened yet so he was positive that what she said was genuine. He stood and hustled into the living room and announced that they had to get out of here. "What do you mean, we have to get out of here?!" Gary said in almost a defiant tone. Turning to face Gary, Paul loomed over the meeker man. "Don't argue with me. We're leaving." He turned away and gathered what few items they could use. Emily was relieved that Paul had not told Gary why they were leaving. Maybe subconsciously they could tell what one another are thinking. Paul grabbed the laser pistol and rifle and ushered Helen out to the hover car. Emily stood. She was hampered by the soreness in her leg, which was the sole reason that they were going to retrieve Chris tomorrow and not today. Gary looked confused and intimidated. He followed Paul out the door. Their haste to leave the cabin seemed unnecessary but Paul did not want to take any chances, because Emily's foresights were not always impeccable with their timing. Limping noticeably, Emily favored her right leg. When she at last arrived at the hover car, the rear passenger door was open for her. She climbed, quickly, into the vehicle and slammed the door. Paul shifted into reverse, slammed the accelerator and whipped the car around one hundred eighty degrees. Shifting the car back into drive, he pressed the accelerator to the floor. The only wound that signified that the engine was being pushed hard was a faint whine emitting from the bottom of the vehicle. There was no squeal of tires on pavement, since there was no pavement and more importantly, the hover car had no wheels. The car flew up the gravel road and headed towards the main highway. There they would have to find another haven for the night.
Would you know my name, if I saw you in Heaven? Would it be the same, if I saw you in Heaven? Staring at the computer screen Max had another daydream of being in complete control. This time he had a position that he could not discern from the vague details of the brief reverie. Walking down the street, wearing garments that he could not describe, he strode with the confidence of a king. As he passed the people toiling with their daily chores they all stopped what they were doing, knelt and bowed their heads in obedience. The ones that did not demonstrate their loyalty, either because they did not care or because they did not see him, were immediately beheaded. No blood flowed from the exposed arteries or veins from either dismembered part. Then he saw the parents of the boy. They were standing in front of him, with fear engraved into their faces deeper than Max had ever seen before. The father reached behind his back. Max was wrenched from his pleasant dream before he could see the finale, which left him as angry as a hornet. The shrill resonance of his mobile phone ringing had snapped him from his daze. He answered the phone just to silence the annoying ring that was sending piercing vibrations up his spine. "Hello." He said in an agitated tone of voice. "We have a problem. The parents are on the move." "What?!" "We are tracking them with the satellite and we are currently preparing the strike team for whatever they may need to capture them." "Good." Max said and shut the communication off right there. Then he proceeded to turn off the ringer on his mobile phone so he could daydream with being disturbed. 'Cause I know, there'll be even more tears in heaven.
The Enterprises slowly positioning themselves around the Machine reminded Richards of proud hunters examining their helpless prey before moving in for the kill. He had a premonition of impeding danger but he repressed it. He did not believe in any of that foresight garbage, it was only his nerves giving him trouble. But Morris was acting a little edgy. No, it is all in your head. He told himself. He had to be levelheaded to run this ship properly, besides he could not make unjust accusations based on a gut feeling. He checked the radar to try and gauge how much longer till the ships were in position, two minutes he guessed. That meant this Machine would be dead in no more than three. Relief began to saturate into his blood. It was warm and soothing, like a hot bath after a long, strenuous day of hard labor. Morris stood. Why was he standing? He probably had to go piss or shit. No, something was wrong. This time the feeling just wasn't in him, it hung in the air like moisture after a summer rain. Richards could not draw breath. No matter how hard his lungs pulled, no life-giving oxygen would rush inside. Then he realized that his mouth was clamped shut so tightly that his jaw muscles began to ache. Morris whipped around. He had a gun! Richards tried to hit the button to call for security, but Morris opened fire and four shots caught him in his abdomen. Pain flared from his chest like a napalm-fueled flame. Two of the shots tore through his intestines and what remained of them fell out into his lap. The other two shots struck him in the middle of his chest. Crimson blood gushed from his wounds rapidly; an artery had been hit. Richards couldn't hear anything around him, people seemed to be shouting in terror, but no sounds came from their gaping mandibles. Richards could feel a blackness pulling at him, he did not want to fall into it but his strength failed him and he plummeted into the pit, a white light shone at the bottom. He swore he could hear someone with an angelic voice telling him to go into the light. Like I have much of a choice. Richards thought to himself. The light swallowed him.
After flushing the last of the crewmembers off the bridge and into the hallway he sealing the door shut. Morris threw the weapon to the floor and checked the Captains' pulse. Holding the mans' cold wrist, he knew the man was dead even without taking his pulse. There was enough blood around Richards limp body to ascertain that he had not had an instantaneous death. His lifeless eyes gazed out into the world with a look of agony permanently engraved into them. Then he walked to the bank of computers located in the middle of the room. He made a link to his communications computer and several others from here so he could run the entire bridge on this bank of computers.
Orville stood from his weapons control computer and reached inside his uniform for the weapon that he was given. From behind him Captain Dumas shouted, "Mr. Orville! Get back to your post!" Orville never liked Dumas. He tore the gun from his shirt, spun around and fired a spray of shots towards the detestable captain. Several shots missed but two made contact, one with his arm and the other tore into Dumas' face and exiting the back of his head. Dumas was killed as soon as that bolt of energy splattered his brains all over the wall behind him. There wasn't much blood but Orville grew sick to his stomach. As he commanded that everybody leave the bridge, he tried not to look at the faceless corpse that was once his captain. As he escorted the frightened crew into the hallway, he tried not to pass to close to the dead man, because he was afraid that he would magically come back to life and kill him. Childish fear, but this was the first time Orville ever killed another human being. He followed the orders that Morris had given him and patched every computer in the bridge into the main computer in the center so he could control the entire ship from there.
Morris stood and awaited confirmation of the other mutinies. He didn't have to wait long, they poured in one after another. Every Enterprise was now in their control. Max would soon be the undisputed ruler of the old Arm Galactic Empire and they were going along for the ride. Now the problem was getting the Machine to its destination. The tractor beams were too weak and the tow cables were not tested at the speeds they would be stressed against to get the gargantuan cargo to the site on time. This would be the most difficult undertaking during their operation. Morris could not understand why he wanted them to tow the Machine to the build site. He was expecting him to order them to go inside the Machine and hack into the computer for the information they desired. But towing the whole thing, Morris couldn't understand.
8
The reentry had gone perfectly, and they were right in position to ambush the hover car as it passed by them on the highway. The interception point was a mile away. The path they would have to follow was directly through dense forest. If Louis had the direction finder equipment he could easily sabotage the mission by simply going the wrong way. Walking over fallen trees and through prickly bushes, the strike team drew closer to their destination. For Louis every step he took was a step closer to damnation. Every step he took without discovering a way to sabotage this mission his heart grew heavier. All four members of the strike team were wearing full body armor to protect themselves against the weapons their "enemy" had, but you could only see a slight bulge in their camouflaged clothing. They each had a fully automatic weapon that was powerful enough to blow holes through buildings and a smaller laser pistol with a laser sighting and loaded with armor piercing rounds. However, the weapon that would cripple the vehicle with was a low-yield rocket launcher. The original plan was for them to use that to destroy their means of escape and then crash the cabin. Now all that was changed since their orders were changed from search and destroy to capture and was further complicated by their untimely departure of their quarry from the cabin. Now they would utilize the rocket launcher to knock the life out of the hover car. Once the vehicle was neutralized, they would quickly surround the car and bring the parents in for questioning, or whatever reason they were needed for, and to kill anybody else in the vehicle. For several minutes they walked through the endless array of trees and other planet life. Then Louis saw the highway. Hell was only a hundred yards away.
Paul frantically pushed the hover to its limits. Whipping it like a plush toy around blind curves with reckless abandon. The needle on the speedometer was topping out. Paul had put the top up so air resistance would be minimized, but the top was rattling against the where it made contact with the windshield, from the air biting into the frame of the car and attempting to force it slower. He responded by pressing the accelerator to the floor. The car shot forward. He needed to put as much distance between them and the cabin as possible as fast as possible. Even though Emily's foresight had bad timing and the danger had already passed, Paul didn't want to take any chances.
Crouching in the bushes off the broad side of a turn in the highway, Louis and the rest of his team were waiting for their objective to hurtle towards them. The resolution Louis sought for remained as elusive as ever. He had to think fast, the car would be appearing around the bend any second now. "Target incoming." Elise announced solemnly, but only Louis caught that solemnity, the two other people there heard boredom. Emotional tones in the voice can be as relative as an object's apparent size. Meaning, you can take a penny place it next to a grain of sand and the penny would appear immense in comparison, but take that same penny and put it in your hand, it looks much smaller than it did than when it was beside the grain of sand. However, emotional tones have much more complexity in their true meanings than the size of the penny. It was too late for Louis to think of a plan, he would now have to improvise. Walsh, one of the other members of the team, waited for his opportunity to fire the rocket and cripple the oncoming car.
Emily felt an ice pick run right through her chest. The coldness seeped through her body more frantically than she ever felt henceforth. Almost reflexively, she shouted, "STOP!" She was almost convinced that her voice would come out shaky as if she had spent hours in a snow bank clad in nothing more than jeans and a t-shirt, but it was as strong as it ever was.
Paul immediately slammed the brakes and the hover car came to an abrupt halt. Emily didn't have to say why she commanded that Paul stop because he saw the smoke trail of a rocket as it hurled towards them. Trying not to panic, he shifted into reverse and slammed his foot on the accelerator, but he was not fast enough, the rocket slammed into the hood of the hover car. Throwing his hands defensively in front of his face, knowing too well that placing that little amount of protection in front of his face would be useless. If the rocket's explosion didn't kill them, the shrapnel from the engine would shred them to pieces. Paul couldn't believe that it would end like this. Everything was happening is slow motion. Helen screamed from the backseat. Emily stared with widening eyes as the rocket struck the hood of the hover car. The vehicle was thrown forward sharply. Paul felt his harness pull tightly across his chest. The car struck the ground with the whine of tortured metal abrading against pavement and more metal. Paul opened his eyes. He was alive! No pain flared from any part of his body except for where his harness had gripped him. Looking quickly around the car he saw that everyone was okay for the most part. Relief rushed through him. But then he came to realize that whoever fired that rocket would not leave them for dead, they would make sure they had perished. They had to get out of the car, and fast. "Get out of the car!" Paul shouted. Nobody needed to be told again. They tore their seatbelts off then threw the doors open. The step out of the vehicle was short because it was no longer floating. Stepping out in a mid-run Emily heard weapon fire and she immediately fell to the ground. Paul and the others did the same, but they were on the opposing side of the car. Instead of running behind the car where Paul would be, she scrambled for the brush on the roadside. Metal shrieked as energy bolts smashed in to them. Helen, Gary and Paul lay flat on the pavement, making as small as a target of themselves as they could. Their assailant's weapons must have been powerful, because the shots punched through the hover car with ease. They were stuck in a raging river without a paddle, or a boat.
From her foliage crowded hiding spot, Emily could see nothing of the hover car, Paul, or anybody else. She felt alone where she was, though she was probably safer where she was than behind the downed car. Here, she could play a game of hide and seek with their enemy, but where Paul was, the only thing they could do was fire back with what weapons they had. The latter didn't seem any more alluring than the former, since they would be outgunned. Despite all the noisy gunfire, Emily could still hear Helen screaming. It was like a knife thrusting into her heart. Emily wanted to soothe her daughter, but she couldn't get near her. Emily just laid in the dirt and endured the emotional torture.
Paul had led Helen and Gary to the rear of the vehicle. He wanted to get the guns out of the trunk so he could defend their position. He had to wait for them to reload, or a break in the shooting to risk opening the hatch else he take an energy bolt through the abdomen.
Walsh and Harvey were the only two firing their weapons. They were only supposed to pin them down while Elise and Louis crept around behind them and capture them. This was the opportunity Louis was waiting for. He wasn't sure how he could exploit it, but he would think of something.
"How much longer do ya think it will take them to go 'round?" Walsh asked in between bursts of his machine gun. "Probably a minute or two." Harvey replied between his own bursts. "Need to reload!" Walsh shouted as he rolled over on his back and plucked an empty clip from his pocket. Harvey was foolishly distracted by Walsh's unnecessary comment.
Paul seemed to be waiting for an eternity for the firing to pause. When the pangs and whines stopped he shot into a sitting position, tore open the hatch which he had opened while laying on his back to save time, risking a shot to the arm. He reached in and extracted the shotgun and pistol. Then he fell back to the pavement just as the firing recommenced. He handed the pistol to Gary, because he could not operate both weapons simultaneously, and he didn't trust Gary's marksmanship. At first Gary refused the weapon, but Paul threw it at him as if to say, shoot you coward. Peering around the side of the vehicle Paul could not see the shooters, but he could see their weapon's barrels light a fluorescent-like red when they fired. Taking a laying shooter's stance, Paul aimed for one of the flashing targets. He was an exceptional shot, but he had never been tested in an actual situation before. The rifle was almost a cannon, if the shot hit any part of their bodies, it would literally be torn off.
Keeping low Walsh gave Harvey cover fire while he was reloading, which Harvey should have gave him instead of looking at him. That was a stupid rookie mistake. Walsh fired high over where he expected the target to be. He was unprepared for the deafening boom that resonated off the nearby hills. At first he thought he particle accelerator had exploded, but there was no shockwave that succeeded the bang. Then he realized that their quarry must have pulled a high-powered weapon from the trunk while their pinning gunfire paused. The first shot hit nothing but bush, but it was close, only inches away from Harvey's head. The helmets they had on could protect against a handgun, but not against that cannon. However, their body armor would be sufficient to stop the bolt, but not without inflicting a serious hurting and probably leave one hell of a bruise.
Paul waited for the gun to recharge before he shot again. He wondered if he hit anybody. Both of the stroboscopic orange globes from their weapons were still present; he didn't hit anybody. "Hurry up." He muttered under his breath at the rifle in his hands. Done. Paul immediately started to line up his next shot. It was difficult to concentrate with Helen screaming behind him, but now her screaming had subsided to sobbing.
Emily was relieved when Helen stopped crying, but when she thought of a reason for why she stopped, her heart skyrocketed into her throat. Helen may be dead or dying and there was nothing Emily could do or she would be cut down and be of no help to anybody. Stay put. She kept telling herself, but it was becoming more difficult with each passing moment. Her maternal instincts were going crazy. She wanted to run to Helen and hold her, but running across the road right now would be as stupid as suicide. She reluctantly waited. She tried to quell her hammering heart but it was all in vain. She wanted to know if her little girl was all right and it was eating her alive that she couldn't do anything at the moment.
Walsh heard the rifle fire again. The subsequent boom seemed louder than the first and the echoing repercussions seemed to go on longer than before. Immediately after the booming gunshot, Walsh heard a noise that reminded him of a melon being dropped on solid ground. Looking over at Harvey, Walsh nearly threw up. The shot he heard had struck Harvey right in the face. Though his helmet had kept his head from exploding as it would without one, Walsh could see a giant puddle of blood around him and a gaping hole in the back of his head exposing the gray matter inside. Crimson stains sprayed along Harvey's back and onto his pants. Walsh looked down and saw that he had blood all over his left side from the ribs down. Pieces of bloodied brain tissue had splattered against the bush behind Harvey. This was the first time in his forty-eight years of existence that he had seen someone die before his eyes. Walsh was beginning to become light- headed. Turning his head to the side he vomited what little content he had in his stomach. If he had known this man before today he probably would have been enraged at the loss. Since he didn't know him that well, Walsh only felt a deep sadness in his heart. He always thought it was a waste when people were killed young, but he made an exception for criminals. Like the people he was shooting at. He wouldn't hesitate a fraction of a second if he had the chance to kill one of them, but his orders were specific. They were to capture the parents and kill anybody else, but he might make a slip.
Louis stood twenty yards behind the downed hover car hidden by the bushes on the shoulder of the road. Elise was crouching beside him with a solemn expression on her face. "I can't do this Louis. I can't bring myself to do anything to those innocent people." Elise confessed while looking away from Louis. "We don't have to. I think I know a way to get them out of this and make it look like an accident." "Really!" Elise's head spun towards Louis and her eyes seemed to glow. " I think if we can sneak up behind them, make it look like we're stalking them to Walsh and Harvey, we can talk to the parents without our 'friends' hearing us. We can tell them to run, or something." "What if they shoot us?" Elise said realizing the coherent danger in his plan. "We'll have to take that chance." Louis said bluntly. "Let's go." They started to climb out of the concealing bush. "Elise." Louis said. "Yes." Elise turned around to face him. "I love you." He wanted to say his goodbyes in case the worst happened. Silently, they both climbed onto the road and covered the distance between them and the parents quickly.
Waiting for the rifle to charge again, Paul heard Helen let loose a shrill cry of terror like someone was stabbing her to death. Then he knew that they had been surrounded. Their situation went from bad to hopeless. Paul rolled over and saw two crouched people about ten feet away. He whipped the rifle at the smaller one and pulled the trigger. The shot must have been charged, because the weapon kicked back into his shoulder hard. Just before he pulled the gun he thought he heard one of them shout, "Don't shoot!" But it was too late, the energy bolt struck one of them in the chest and flung the person ten feet backwards. One down, one to go.
Louis shouted, "Don't shoot!" In a vain attempt to stop the man from pulling the trigger. He watched in terror as Elise took the rifle shot directly in the chest, thank God for the body armor, and fly backwards two of her body lengths. He acted quickly. He kicked the weapon out of the man's grasp and took him by the shirt. There was another man with a small handgun, but he was too terrified to even speak, let alone pull the trigger on the weapon. He cowered in the fetal position against the downed hover car. "I'm not going to hurt you, you understand. I want you to run when I let you go. Don't ask any questions. Just run. Do you hear me? Run, dammit!" The man seemed confused, a perplexed look fell on his face. "My wife," He said pointing to the bushes. "Ran." "Call her over here." Behind them Elise was making agonized coughing sounds as she gradually recovered from the shot to her chest that was luckily halted by the body armor. "EMILY! Get over here! It's okay! Come over here!" The man shouted towards the side of the road, never taking his eyes off of Louis. A woman peered from the foliage on the shoulder. Hesitantly, she rose to her feet, looked towards the direction the machinegun fire had originated but now was silenced. She bolted across the road and straight for her daughter. She hugged her fiercely and began to say, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Over and over to the distressed child. "Now go. Run. Fast. Hurry." Louis said with such urgency that he didn't even create full sentences. Still regarding Louis with suspicion, the man slowly shuffled towards his wife always keeping an eye on Louis. To his wife he said, "Are you okay?"
"Yes." She responded. She had a soothingly sweet voice. "RUN!" Louis shouted in exigency. Walsh was walking towards them. They needed to get away before he could see them. The family and the other man began to run away as fast as their legs could carry them. "Hey! Go get them!" Walsh shouted. Too late. Seeing no other contingency he could take, Louis spun and fired his weapon at Walsh. Several shots tore through his chest. Crimson fluid spurted from his back as each shot ripped through his armor and flesh. He was dead before he hit the ground. Louis felt filthy about killing Walsh but he could see no other way around it. It was inevitable. Walsh would have done the same to him once he realized that they were not following orders. Kill or be killed the choice was difficult but simple. Elise looked thunderstruck almost too terrified to move. This was the first time she had seen somebody get shot. To make it worse, Louis pulled the trigger. Seeing the man she loved take another life was almost more than she could bear. Seeing her distress, Louis threw his weapon aside and hugged Elise fiercely. Louis did not know how long they were embraced, it could have been only a minute, but a half-hour could have passed and he would not have known the difference.
9
When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom. Let it Be. Max knew this song. It was "Let it Be" by the Beatles. Max did not know what it was about this song but he enjoyed it, though he detested the rest of that British band's music with a passion. The boy was still running lyrics through his thoughts. The boy did not know that all his attempts were in vain. His parents were probably being brought to him right this minute. Max would love to see the parents' reactions when he kills their son. He had decided that he would shoot the boy instead of keeping him for research like the scientists wanted. Max waited patiently for the parents to be escorted through that door. The power.
Chris waited in the perpetual darkness. Something was growing inside him. He could feel it clawing at his subconscious like a rabid wolf. He could not discern what it was regardless of how deep he looked. Occasionally, he saw a part of whatever "it" was. But it was like he was walking through a pitch black tunnel, and the only glimpses Chris caught of whatever "it" was, was when the electricity surged and lit the tunnel with a quick flash of light. However, he did not know when these surges came or know where to look to find "it," but most of the time, it found him. Chris did not like the glimpses he saw. All that Chris knew was that whatever was germinating inside him was that he could not forget it, and that it was dangerous. Dangerous like a man with a split personality armed with thousands of nuclear weapons and fueled by an unequaled animosity towards mankind. Chris was becoming scared of himself more than he was afraid of the blackness that encompassed him.
Paul did not know why that man had let them go back there. He could not find a logical explanation for it with the exception of that that man had a heart. Since the nearest city was five or six miles away, Paul had plenty of time to contemplate. They walked along the side of the highway like they were marching to their deaths. A somber air hung around them that grew with every passing moment like they were magnets for the negative feelings drifting around. He wanted to find out what else Gary knew, but for some reason he did not want Helen to know exactly what happened to her brother. He would wait. Though Emily was greatly relieved that nobody was hurt, she was falling through a downward spiral towards hopelessness. She tried to fill her mind with positive thoughts but she could not resist the gravity pull of the downward spiral. The blazing sun hung at high noon, glaring sunshine claimed every crevice that darkness could be evicted. The sun beat down on the macadam highway, heating its tarry surface. The heated highway radiated heat adding to the already warm day. The several mile-walk would be tiresome in the least. Already favoring her deficient leg, Emily limped noticeably. After a mile or so, she would be almost dragging her leg behind her. After two miles, she would be forced to crawl because the pain would be intolerable. To avoid those inevitable happenings, they had to rest every few minutes, before Emily's leg hindered their progress to too great an extent. The first leg of their journey passed by uneventfully and silently. Not a word was spoken between them. Sitting in the grass off the side of the highway, Paul had surrendered to ignorance, as he could not logically think of a reason for that man to release them. Now, he had no thoughts to cloud his mind from the incessant tapping of their feet as they struck the highway, or from the darkness that is morbid curiosity. Instead of thinking in logical patterns, his thoughts drifted along a knife's edge between the rational and irrational. On one side, he had the life of his past, a simple existence with a loving wife and two children. On the other side, he had his life now. Hit men coming after them at every corner, agencies kidnapping little children and killing innocent civilians. On one side, simplicity. On the other, paranoia. With the sun to their backs, they trudged on.
Discussing the possible avenues they could use to move the Machine, Morris felt a headache begin to flare behind his eyes. He was doing too much thinking. The other agents he was talking to were idiots. The most intelligent suggestion they offered was removing one of the Enterprises engines and attaching it to the Machine. Which was impossible. First of all, it would take too long and they did not have the manpower to perform such a task. Secondly, the engine would only be able to go forward without the directional thrusters. Lying back in his seat, Morris closed his eyes and massaged his temples, trying to soothe his germinating headache. He had an inspiration. Instead of removing the engine to one of the Enterprises, they could position the Enterprises around the Machine and force it to move with them. Since the Machine was in space, its relative weight was zero. The problem was that all of the Enterprises would have to move synchronously. Then he remembered, he could tie all of the nav computers into a single nav system. They had a plan. He pushed the communication button and said, "Shut up everybody, here's what we're doing." He explained the details to the other agents.
Hey you! Out there in the cold getting lonely, getting old, can you feel me? Hey you! Standing in the aisles with itchy feet and fading smiles, can you feel me? Another song that Max did not know, but these lyrics were compelling. He wondered if he should tell the boy that his parents have been arrested and were being transported here at this minute. Max answered himself, no. He wanted to see the boys face when he realized that all of his attempts to block out his mind were in vain. Max drifted away in his state of power-induced euphoria. He almost didn't hear his mobile phone ring. Opening the face of the mechanism, he spoke into the microphone. "Yes?" He spoke rapidly. "The strike team has not reported back to us yet." The man on the other end said. "What does that mean?" "It either means they are experiencing difficulty with their communications equipment, or they have failed." Max remained silent, he was too angry to speak. "I have to guess that they failed because they're ship was in perfect running order on the last report." The man's voice was wavering. "Who in God's name are these people?!" Max said at last. "How could they have killed ten of our men?! This is God damned unbelievable! Un-fucking- believable!" He normally didn't swear, but his well-laid plan was ruined. By the time they could get another strike team assembled, the parents could be on another planet. Therefore, mobilizing another strike team would be a waste of time and precious manpower. He would not send any more men out and cut down on security. He had to go on the defensive and wait for the parents to come to him. They would come; eventually they would come. It was only a matter of time. Hey you! Out there beyond the wall, breaking bottles in the hall, can you help me? Hey you! Don't tell me there's no hope at all. Together we stand, divided we fall.
Maneuvering the Enterprises around the Machine was harder than Morris thought it would be. To remove the threat of the Machine rattling against the Enterprises and inflicting hull damage during transportation, the Enterprises were forced to slide as flush with the sides of the Machine as possible. This was a difficult feat to perform. While an Enterprise was moving into position, its only pilot had to gauge the ships speed and fire the proper thrusters to slow the vessel down just as it slid along side the Machine. If it was moving too fast, it would rebound off the much larger Machine and thusly would have to make another pass. The Enterprises were positioned around the Machine in this manner; one on each of its two smaller sides, two on the top and bottom, three in back for thrust, three in front for breaking. Since the Enterprise's breaking thrusters were weaker than the propulsion thrusters they could only use sixty percent of the propulsion thruster's maximum output. Even so, it would take the twelve Enterprises ten minutes to completely slow the Machine down. Once they were in position, the hardest part of their plan was over. All that preceded was the linking of all the nav computers into Max's nav computer so he could control all of the Enterprises simultaneously.
10
The six-mile walk took longer than Paul expected. He was expecting to enter the city at about one-thirty, but Emily's leg slowed them down more than what Paul had anticipated and because of it, they arrived thirty-two minutes after Paul's approximated arrival time. The entire voyage came to pass without incident. Which was a relief for Paul. He kept expecting to hear a burst of machine gun fire from behind them, or being clubbed by a man concealed in dense foliage that was to their left-hand side. Paul knew that Helen could not come with Emily, Gary, and him when they went to rescue Chris. Therefore, they would have to leave her in a hotel room with a babysitter or with Ingrid Thurman, a friend of theirs that lived in an apartment on the other side of the city. The choice was obvious, Ingrid. If they rented out a hotel room, it would be recorded in the hotel's computer and that left a traceable mark that ADIT could follow. Anyway, odds were that they did not have enough cash on them to rent a hotel room, let alone pay for a babysitter that would be required for Helen. Standing at a phone booth, but in reality it was only a small box with the phone set inside, Paul reached into his pocket and removed fifty kords, (monetary unit similar to the penny) and shook them nervously in his hand.
Turning to Emily, he asked, "Do you remember Ingrid's number?" Emily thought for a moment, then answered. "Five, three, one, four, eight, one, seven, two." Emily gave out the digits three in a row, then two, then the last three. That sequence took in account the miniscule retention time of Paul's, or anybody's, short-term memory, so he would not forget any of the numbers. Paul placed the receiver to his ear after he finished entering the eight- digit number. Riiiinnnngggg.Riiinnnnggg.Riiinnnnggg. The line rang five times before Ingrid answered. "Hello?" Ingrid's smooth feminine voice came through the receiver into Paul's ear. They knew her from their honeymoon, because she was on summer vacation there and occupied a room down the hall from their suite. Though Ingrid was three years older than Emily, Emily thought Ingrid looked at least a decade younger from the last time they had seen her, three years ago. "Ingrid?" Paul said. "It's Paul." "Paul!" The woman said exuberantly, remembering him immediately. "It's been a long time!" "Yes, it has." Paul said trying to fake being as jubilant as she was. "Is Emily there too?" They did not have much time to waste, but Paul did not have the heart to ask the sweet woman for a favor without doing a little catching-up first. He handed the receiver to Emily, she took it and placed to her ear. "Hello, Ingrid." Emily said as vivaciously as she could, considering what she's gone through over the past few hours. "Emily! How've you been?" "Pretty good. You?" "I'm doin' just fine." "We were in town and were wondering how you've been." "Do you have time to drop by my place so we can catch up?" "Sure. Where do you live?" Ingrid told Emily the address than directions on how to get there after Emily told her where they were. After a few exchanges Emily said goodbye and hung up the phone. She had told Ingrid that they would be there in a few hours after they had run a few errands. They didn't have any errands to do, that was a lie in order to give them the time necessary to walk to her house.
To avoid collisions, the Enterprises moved into position no more than two at a time. The only Enterprise that remained out of position was Morris'. The location for his Enterprise was the left front side. He decided to back into his position, but that would not be easy. Since the main thrusters were far more powerful than the reverse thrusters, he would only have to give the main thrusters a miniscule amount of firing time. Morris switched the "Victory" over to manual control. He was trained in piloting any ship ADIT had to offer, but he took a few moments to recall how to maneuver the giant ship. The "Victory" glided through the emptiness of space. Morris piloted it with painstaking precision. Due to his inexperience, he only dared to move agonizingly slow. After a few long moments, the vessel was aligned for its first attempt. It was positioned about three hundred meters directly ahead of its final destination facing away from the Machine. All that Morris had to do was guide the "Victory" backwards into its predetermined destination.
Morris gently applied the reverse thrusters. At first the ship seemed not to be moving, but the longer Morris kept the reverse thrusters active, the faster the ship traveled. Since in momentum is lost in space, it didn't take long for the "Victory" to be noticeably moving backwards. Using the distance-measuring device on board, used for measuring distances to targets and ships approaching to dock, Morris did not have to continuously look at the aft camera projection screen. He only had to shift his gaze a few inches to his left and he could see a numerical representation of the distance between the "Victory" and the Machine. 141.7 meters. He was moving too fast. He covered half the distance in less than five seconds. Pulling back slightly on the control for the main thrusters the ship slowed significantly. Morris released the control for the reverse thrusters, inertia would carry the "Victory" to the Machine. 102.3 meters. Beads of sweat began to form along Morris' receding hairline though the interior of the bridge was cool. His stomach tied itself in a knot. Trying to keep a clear head, Morris thought about a sunrise over an ocean.
He was becoming nervous from the fact that the Captain had earlier brought the "Victory" into the heart of the battle. The "Victory" had sustained some hull damage, but the engines could not be assessed properly. If the main engines were damaged, and Morris bumped into the Machine in the wrong way, they might crack. When the engines cracked, it caused the matter and antimatter to mix freely instead of in a controlled environment. If that occurred, it would create an explosion large enough to destroy the rear half of the "Victory," and probably cause the main reactor to rupture causing another explosion. This one would destroy the "Victory" completely and the other Enterprise beside it. His hands began to shake subtly. He began to use imagery to calm his jittering nerves. Sunrise over the ocean. Morris calmed himself somewhat.
51.2 meters. Crunch time. Sweat poured from his face. Sunrise over the ocean. His gut clenched tighter around his intestines. 13.4 meters. Morris tapped the main thruster control and closed his eyes, waiting for chance to deal him his fate. The wait for the "Victory" to make impact was so long that Morris almost thought that he had hit the main thrusters too hard and he brought the "Victory" to a dead stop. Then the entire ship shuddered as it struck the Machine. No explosion followed, just a loud clang that reverberated through the ship. Morris opened his eyes and checked the distance. 0.0 meters. He was either flush against the Machine or so close that it was irrelevant. "I'm in position. Everybody prepare to tie your nav computers into mine." Morris said exasperatedly wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve.
Emily could think of an explanation they could use to explain their appearances to Ingrid. Her clothes were spattered with dirt and grass stains, her hair was in disarray, and though she could not see it, she believed her face was filthy. She could tell Ingrid that their car broke down. But Emily quickly rejected that thought when she remembered how nice Ingrid was. If their car broke down, Ingrid would do everything in her power to get it fixed. Maybe they should have rented a hotel room, it would have been easier. They were running out of time, Ingrid's house was only a few blocks away. Think, Emily, think. She told herself silently. Time ticked away with every step they took.
By the time Herald left the hanger, he knew something was wrong, but he could not put a finger on what it was. It was as elusive as it was mysterious. It was like an unseen smoke hanging in the air, a ghost walking down a hallway, intangible yet sensible. It nagged at Herald's mind incessantly. Thinking it was just his nerves, Herald took a shower, but he felt no different afterwards than before. Sitting on his couch he tried to blank his thoughts, but that feeling of wrongness refused to be silenced. Making excuses for that sensation, he told himself that the assault on the Machine took more out of him than he thought. He knew that was a lie, but he could not find a more logical reason to explain his feeling of wrongness. Maybe sleep would quell this feeling. Herald laid down on the couch, closed his eyes and in a few minutes was asleep.
Once all of the nav systems were tied into Morris' computer, he plotted the course they were to follow and programmed which engines would perform which tasks. This was necessary so that when he accelerated forward, the vessels located on the front side of the Machine would not shoot forward and thusly ruin their attempt at guiding this Machine to its destination. The programming of the systems was easier than Morris had first thought it would be. It only cost Morris six short minutes for him to enter the commands into the ship's nav system and compute their meaning. With all the programming, processing, interpolation, and registering complete, the Machine with the dozen Enterprises guiding it were ready for the journey ahead. Tentatively, Morris pushed forward on the main thruster control and engaged the hyperspace engines. If he had missed a key while he was reprogramming the nav system, or if he had misread one of the symbols in the readout of one of the Enterprises, or if he had made any of a thousand other mistakes, everything he and the other agents had done would have been in vain. The muffled wail of the hyperspace engines echoed through the ship, but seemed to magnify on the bridge. The wail nagged at what conscience Morris had left as if it was a human trying to make him realize his actions were wrong. But Morris ignored this nuisance with ease. The mass of mechanized steel shot forward with a sudden lurch of speed. The coherent gravitational forces that were introduced onto the crew by any known or precipitous accelerations and decelerations were nullified by a device in the artificial gravity system that held all of the passengers still, regardless of what the laws of inertia introduced upon them.
So I held my head up high. Hiding hate that burns inside. Which only fuels their selfish pride. We're all held captive out from the sun, a sun that shines on only some. We the meek are all in one. Max wasn't watching the screen any longer. He had turned his attention to the digital readouts of the boy's life signs. The lines were almost hypnotic in their endless race across the screens. He checked his phone. He was waiting for Morris to report on his mission any time now. Back to the readouts. Brain waves normal, heart rate normal, blood pressure a little high but nothing to warrant concern, breathing rate normal. In this abnormal world these readouts seemed to all that's normal. Rrrrri. Max snatched his phone off the table beside him and cut the emitted sound short. "Hello?" He said quickly. "Max, it's Morris." It sounded like the man had just ran a marathon. "How are you preceding?" "We're on our way to the site with the Machine." Excitement grew in Max's stomach when he heard the news. He was even closer to his dream of possessing the power of a totalitarian dictator. His head tingled with delight. "Very good." He said, trying to retain his child-like glee. "We'll be arriving in four hours and twenty minutes. Sir, what should we do about the final Machine?" "Ignore it." Max ordered. "What if it begins to create units?" Morris was being uncharacteristically curious. "Machines can only make k-bots. Any units that Machine makes will be frozen there, since that planet does not have a Galactic Gate." "Yes sir." Morris spoke in a tone not dissimilar to a child that was just reprimanded. That is very odd for him. Usually he has an unconcerned tone to his voice. This was strange, almost unsettling. Morris cut the transmission. That unsettling feeling began to ferment in Max's stomach, but he knew if he allowed it to continue the result would not be fine wine or strong rum.
He looked at the computer rolling out the contents of the boy's thoughts. The fermentation in his stomach did not abate. I cry out to God, seeking only his decision. Gabriel stands and confirms I've created my own prison.
Emily knocked on the door to Ingrid's house. She had not though of an explanation for their appearance, which made her nervous. Maybe Ingrid wouldn't notice, Emily thought, but she rejected that foolish idea when she saw how disheveled they appeared. Gary decided that it would be better if they went in without him, he would find his own place to stay and they would meet them on the corner of Fifth and Main in the morning. Paul did not like splitting up, but it would be significantly easier if they followed Gary's plan instead. Either plan would present a problem, they chose the simpler problem to handle because over the past few hours, they have had more than their share of dilemmas and were getting tired of them. The door opened. Ingrid stood in the doorway with a look of surprise when she saw her old friends again, but that appearance quickly faded when she saw what condition they were in. It was replaced by a visage of curiosity that screamed out, 'What happened to you?' "Oh, my God! What happened? Are you okay?" Ingrid placed on of her delicate hands over her chest as if she was steadying a rapid heartbeat. This was what Emily was not prepared for and she was at a loss of thought at the moment. She could think of no way to explain this without telling her the truth. Emily thought that an eternity had slipped by since Ingrid spoke.
