Chapter 7
Turnabout Is Fair Play
Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.
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Jon was caught in a twilight sleep, the warm period of rest when the body's defenses are down and relaxed. He felt himself bathing in it, basking in utter glory of zero gravity of the mind. He was falling, twisting and twirling in nothingness, oblivious of time and space as it existed outside his subconscious.
An external force emitted heat against his body, and it felt like an intrusion on his perfect world. Then his world shook, and it took him a moment to realize where he was and why.
The Healer's hand was on his shoulder. "Captain, it's time for Holcomb to check on her."
Jon's groggy mind swirled, trying to gain a thick grasp on reality. "What? How long have I been here?"
"Four hours. Major Masterson is waiting for you in the briefing room."
Jon looked across the room to find the space where Hawk had been sitting was abandoned. He pulled at his eyes with thumb and forefinger, rubbing away sleep. He looked at Pilot. He saw no difference, no sense of improvement since he first closed his eyes.
"How is she?"
"Still critical," the Healer answered solemnly, "but she's stable. We have things under control for the moment. If all goes well, she gets better rather quickly from this point on."
The Healer dropped two objects on to the bed next to him. It was his communicator and badge.
"Here," she said. "If you're going to be here for an extended stay, then we better start trusting one another."
He palmed the items, picking them up and looking at her. "Why the change of heart? I thought Lyle was going to be my new best friend for a while."
The Healer moved to the other side of the bed and checked the readings on the monitors. "I finally had the time to do some checking on you and your team. You do good work, and we can use your people on our side."
Jon put his badge back in place. "Your side? You sound like you've never heard of the resistance network."
"Oh, I'm aware of it, Captain. We run under different rules here, that's all. You might say we don't work and play well with others."
"So why help us if you're so independent? Why bring us into your fold?"
The Healer gave a wry smile and turned for the hallway. Jon knew she walked slowly enough that he could catch up to her. He grasped Jennifer's hand and stood. Her skin was hot on his lips as he bent and kissed her on the forehead. He was reluctant to leave her side, but she was the safe one for the moment.
He walked quickly to find the Healer, noticing the absence of Lyle in the hallway. The Healer was being true to her word. He saw her in the distance and hurried to catch up to her slow walk.
"You didn't answer the question," he said. "Why bring us into your group?"
The Healer pushed her hands into the pockets of her robe. She smiled again, an act that was becoming annoying to him. The Cheshire grin indicated a whole other story he was being fed a piece at a time.
"Let's just say that I owe a few debts, Captain."
"To whom?"
"It's a long list, one I won't bore you with right now. Perhaps one day, when all is said and done, we'll sit down over a beer and swap war stories and show each other our scars. For now, all you need to know is that you have a foothold of support here. The care your corporal is receiving won't change, regardless of your action or inaction."
"Action? Just what is it you're suggesting?"
The Healer turned down another corridor and approached a security barrier that was guarded by two sentries and a biomech. They stepped aside as she neared them, giving her plenty of room to pass. The sentries eyed Jon as he walked by, but they made no attempt to stop him from following the Healer past the checkpoint.
Jon caught up to her again. "What do you mean by 'action or inaction'?"
She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. "I mean that nothing is free, even in this hellhole. We scratch your back, you scratch ours."
Power could feel his ire rising, sensing that the trap Hawk feared was not in the alley but in the place where they had found refuge. He had been groggy when they first started walking. Now, he was wide-awake, his perception of his surroundings acute.
"What do you want from us?"
She reached out and opened a door near them. She strode into the room and sat down amid several men and women seated at an oval conference table. Power stood in the doorway, looking at them. Then he realized Hawk was with them, an empty chair next to the major.
The staff inside was military, dressed in casual uniforms that showed their ranks. Four men, two women and the Healer waited for Jon to come inside and sit. He did so after a moment, and the Healer motioned him to the chair next to Hawk.
Cautiously, he accepted the offer. He leaned over to Hawk. "What did I tell you about talking to strangers?" he murmured quietly.
"It's not my fault. They lured me with coffee."
Jon folded his hands on the table and looked at the Healer. "I'm not in the mood for small talk, so why don't we get to the point?"
"Very well," she conceded. "We have reason to believe Dread is embarking on a new project that could potentially turn the tide in this war if he succeeds."
Hawk slouched back in his chair. "And this is a new experience for you? You folks need to visit us in the west more often."
For the first time, the Healer looked perturbed. "We're not as sheltered as you might think, Major. We've lost enough of our own to know. The overunits spill our blood here like anywhere else, including your west."
Jon could feel the tension rising between Hawk and the Healer. Again, he felt the nagging sensation that they knew one another somehow – that there was a connection. Now was not the time to address the issue. He wanted to focus again on the reason Sanctuary needed the likes of his team.
"So, we're even in that department," Jon interceded. "Tell us about the project."
The Healer eyed Hawk, a muted loathing in her stare. She cut away to her right, nodding at an officer. "This is Lieutenant Blalock. He's our technical coordinator in charge of Intelligence Operations. Lieutenant?"
Blalock rose from his chair and approached a console. He was tall and built, carrying himself with authority. His dark skin and sharp eyes gave him a formidable look, making it seem that he would be an asset in the heat of battle.
Blalock tapped at the console, causing the viewing screen along one wall to activate. "Two weeks ago, we managed to recover a prisoner who escaped Volcania's holding cells. While he was there, he overheard plans for a transition in troop strength. Dread has recalled a significant number of troops to his base, leading us to believe that a new project is underway."
He brought up troop strength estimates on the screen. "From what we have been able to determine, nearly four thousand troops have returned to base in the last twenty-four hours. Resistance cells to the east and south confirm the movement."
The shift in troops alarmed Jon. "Why?"
"We contacted several informants to get a handle on it. This man," he said, tapping at the console again, "believes Dread is about to merge with Overmind."
The screen changed again. The image of an older man appeared, one Jon and Hawk instantly recognized.
"Cipher," Hawk said.
Blalock showed no surprise at their knowledge of the informant. "Correct. Cipher has provided inside intel on the operation to one of our informants, and the time table for its completion leaves us at a significant disadvantage."
He returned to his chair. "We know you have recently established relations with him. This is something we have been unable to do to this point."
"Cipher," the Healer said, "seems to be very discerning in his associations. Since we keep Sanctuary well under wraps, he has no reference for us. So, we can't get close enough to convince him that we could be a valuable part of the network."
Jon could envision Cipher turning away a stranger probing for information. The fact that another informant, Locke, had told Power that Cipher had been captured presented a problem.
Locke, with his wild hair and seemingly endless supply of annoying datahead jargon, had told them Cipher had been taken into custody by an overunit. Time to rescue him was slipping away quickly. Locke said that Cipher would be moved in twenty-four hours. Twelve of those had already passed, meaning the odds for a rescue were not good.
"We're not sure of Cipher's whereabouts," Jon told them. "Last we heard, Dread got a hold of him."
Blalock shook his head. "As far as we know, he hasn't been compromised. We have a shadow on him, and there's no indication Cipher's in custody."
"You may want to check again," Jon advised. "Our informant has been reliable. If Cipher's been captured, the information network will have new leaders."
"I'll check into it," Blalock promised. "In the meantime, there's that larger problem brewing with Dread."
Hawk rested his chin in his hand. "It's always something with that guy."
"Actually, Major," Blalock said, not intimidated by Hawk's sarcasm, "we think the procedure has already begun. We're behind the proverbial eight ball on this one."
Jon could not suppress the stab of shock that bolted through him. His father had spoken of Taggart's desire to bridge the gap between man and machine, but the possibility seemed far into the future, according to Stuart Gordon Power's estimates.
"Captain," Blalock said, "your father worked closely with Lyman Taggart. Is what we've been told possible?"
Power now knew it was. "Unfortunately, it is," he admitted. "Units like the biodreads were the first step in making the transition a reality."
Hawk straightened and completely focused his attention on the Healer. "But the Healer already knew that. Isn't that right – Doctor Tobias?" he accused.
The Healer seemed genuinely amused. "I was wondering when it would come to you."
Jon's mind was whirling, trying to get a handle on the strange turn between his first officer and Sanctuary's commander. "Hawk, what the hell is going on?"
Masterson stood up abruptly and walked toward the Healer. He stopped at her side and put both hands on the table, leaning down close to her. "Jon Power, meet Doctor Helene Tobias, Dread researcher and biomedical engineer wanted for crimes against humanity."
Jon scarcely breathed. He looked at her and found there was still mirth in her smile. It was unsettling and bizarre to him. "Is this true?" he asked, incredulous.
"Every word," she answered without hesitation. "Major Masterson almost had me," she said, bringing her thumb and forefinger close together. "But 'almost' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. His team tried twice to get me, but they weren't exactly dead eyes in the long shot department."
Hawk's anger surfaced, his disgust showing on his face. "You made a habit of using human beings as shields to make your get-away. Why don't you tell them about your work under Dread's command, about the countless number of experiments you performed on innocent people?"
Blalock clasped his hands behind his back. "Sanctuary is well aware of Doctor Tobias's past, Major. There's been full disclosure of her work under Dread's command."
"And you have no problem with that, Lieutenant?" Hawk said, exasperated.
"No, sir, I don't," Blalock insisted. "Since coming to Sanctuary, she has more than made up for her past actions. She's saved a lot of lives, including many of the people seated in this room," he argued, adding, "and your pilot."
The look of amusement faded from the Healer's face. She turned toward Hawk. "Major," she said in all seriousness, "when there is a lull in the action around here, I promise you'll have every opportunity to put me on trial for my past crimes. However, we have bigger problems at the moment."
Hawk gave a frustrated glance at Power.
"We need you, Major," she continued in a gesture of détente. "We need everyone on your team to put a stop to this. You're the only ones who have been able to get inside Volcania and live to tell the tale. And let's be honest – you're the ones with the suits. The rest of us would be dead taking an eighth of the hits your armor can absorb."
Jon could see the anger and fury abate in Hawk's eyes as the business side of the war was brought back to the table. The major's stiffened shoulders relaxed. He looked to Jon, eventually retreating to his chair.
"What did you have in mind?" Jon asked, feeling relieved that they were "getting down to brass tacks", as his father used to call it.
Blalock sat down again, as well. "From our best estimates, we have twenty-five to thirty hours to get something done."
"Doctor Tobias," Jon said, calling her by her real name for the first time, "how would Taggart transfer his consciousness? I'm guessing it would be more complicated than imprinting engrams into a biodread."
"You're correct," she confirmed. "In order for Overmind to complete a transfer, cerebral activity must be slowed considerably in order for all functions and memories to be captured. Taggart would have to be in a near-death state for that to happen."
Hawk shook his head, his anger seemingly gone. "Stasis wouldn't cut it," he offered.
"That's right," she agreed. "Overmind is good, but it's not good enough to handle fully active brainwaves. It needs things slowed down almost to zero." She paused, as if waiting for someone to say the punch line of the joke.
Hawk followed her train of thought and finished it. "Cryostasis," he said, the concept dawning on him.
"Cryostasis," Tobias repeated, nodding. "During the time he's on ice, Dread will be at the mercy of Overmind and the troops guarding him. He'll be virtually unaware of anything until the cerebral transfer is complete. If he reaches that stage," she said grimly, "life as we know it is over."
Jon understood the implications. They were ones his father feared so many years before Taggart took control of the world.
"He could command an entire army by thought alone," he said, still in disbelief that the fear was becoming a reality.
"Not to mention the fact that his ability to design stronger, deadlier machines would be increased exponentially. Soaron and Blastarr would look like tinker toys in a matter of weeks."
Her words hung ominously in the air. The battles they waged against the current arsenal of machines were difficult enough already. Upgrades were not a welcome thought.
"So, you see, gentlemen," Tobias said in summation, "while we did not exactly plan to contact your team for help, we're certainly inclined to accept it if you're in a giving mood."
Without a moment's uncertainty, Jon said, "You have it."
"Good," she said, rising from her chair. "If you will bring in the rest of your team, I'll arrange for maintenance on your ship and we can hammer out some of the details to this party we're about to have."
The others around the table stood as she dismissed herself from the room. Most followed in her wake, except for Blalock who lingered as he shut down the presentation console.
As Blalock neared the doorway, Hawk called out to him. "Lieutenant?" he said, stopping him by the arm.
"Yes, sir?" Blalock answered respectfully.
Hawk paused before speaking. "What is it about her that has all of you so gung ho and willing to forget the past?"
Blalock looked down at Hawk, locking his eyes to him. The tension that had dissipated before was returning in full force.
"With all due respect, Major," Blalock said in a low, tight tone as he extricated his arm from Hawk's hand, "leave her the hell alone."
With that, he strode out of the room and closed the door.