Chapter 5
48-3 Mark 31
One thing was certain: this couldn't go on. Something had to give.
They received word of an attack on a settlement. The Captain and Hawk went to investigate. Tank patrolled the perimeter of their new camp. Scout was tinkering inside the jumpship. They left her sleeping in the hold. Jennifer made them promise not to sedate her while she slept--to tell her before they did it, if they were going to go that route. She wanted to be able to say goodbye.
In return, she promised to stay inside the ship and not touch anything. She made the promise with the full intention of breaking it. Wearing a flight jacket and carrying a spare crash helmet, she snuck out of the hold's cargo hatch and unloaded one of the skybikes.
Her voice code authorization no longer worked on the skybike, so she hacked past it and switched the controls to manual. She only had a few moments; Scout, Tank, or both of them would hear the bike launching. She wanted to be away before they could stop her.
She had to get away before she lost her nerve. She was sneaking out, disobeying orders, she knew she was. If you weren't so damned insubordinate. . . Jon was right, she never could follow orders. But a part of her was thrilled: she was back in action. It felt great, sitting on the bike, leaning over the controls, gripping the handlebars.
Being around the others muddled the situation for her. She couldn't keep wondering if they were real, or if the danger around them was real, or if it was all an illusion. She had to work this out on her own.
Her hand was inches from the ignition when Scout appeared and slapped his hand over the control panel, blocking it.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" he said, sounding phenomenally annoyed.
Slowly, she straightened, took off the helmet, and held it on the seat in front of her. She couldn't meet his gaze.
"I need help. I'm going to go find it."
"Alone? Just like that, without telling anyone? Do you have any idea how devastated the Captain would be if he came back and found out you were gone? No, I guess you wouldn't. You weren't around to see what he went through the last time he lost you."
She looked at him, slack-jawed, her gaze piercing. He might as well have stabbed her in the gut.
He looked away. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."
"Was it that bad?" she said softly.
He blew out a sigh and shook his head. "Until we got you back, we couldn't talk to him. He turned into this ice-cold, single-minded. . .maniac."
She could see it. Jon had accomplished what he had because of sheer, bull-headed determination. To have that drive turn destructive would be frightening.
"I don't know what to do, Scout."
"How about I go with you."
He wasn't smiling; he wasn't joking. "What?"
"I'll go with you."
This was some trick. They'd be lured into a trap, and she'd watch him die, or she'd think she'd be firing at the enemy but hit him instead. She shook her head. "I can't ask you--"
"Same old Pilot, still trying to do everything all by yourself. I'll watch your back. You can't go into Tech City by yourself. None of us could."
She blinked, surprised. "How do you know that's where I'm going?"
He tapped his finger against his temple and grinned. "Psychic."
She tried to convince herself that he was too much like Scout to be an illusion. But the implant drew on her own memories--the programming that controlled what she saw would show her the Scout she most wanted to see, energetic and funny, always ready with a quip. Her own mind would betray her in the end.
She said, "I'm not sure I can trust you. That you're not some phantom who'll make me show Dread where the Passages are--"
"See, this is why I wanted it in writing when you said you trusted me. I knew this would come up."
Now, he was joking. She sometimes wished he would be more serious. Then again, if she didn't laugh she'd have to cry. "Why would you trust me? After the way I've been acting."
"It's not you I don't trust, it's that implant, and the sooner we get rid of it the better. To tell you the truth I'd rather have you along for the ride than comatose back at the Passages."
She studied him for a moment, his almost permanent smirk, at odds with the intense look in his eyes. This man was deadly, but he'd laugh the whole time he was planting the bomb to destroy a warehouse.
"Are you real?" she asked.
"You keep saying that," he said wryly. "How are you ever going to believe me, no matter what I say?"
"I guess I just have to keep moving and hope for the best. Things couldn't get much worse."
"Don't say that, Pilot. Don't ever say that."
She didn't say anything, though she didn't think this could get much worse--she wouldn't know that until she learned just how bad things really were.
"If we're going to do this we should get going."
"I think we should wait for the Captain."
She'd thought of that. "No. He'll want to go himself, and he can't risk it. He's too well known there. Someone would report him to Dread in minutes."
Scout pursed his lips. He was going to argue, and she braced for it. In the old days, her going on a mission alone wouldn't have bothered any of them.
In the old days she didn't unexpectedly black out and hallucinate, convincing herself she was somewhere else, and try to shoot her friends.
Finally, he said, "I hate to admit it, but I think you're right. But he is not going to like this," Scout said with a smirk.
"If you have any other suggestions I'd love to hear them. But I have to try something. I can't just sit back and. . .and go completely insane."
"All right, then. But I'm driving--can't have you deciding we're not really airborne, can we?"
He had the gall to smile.
-------------------------------
They hid the skybike in a ravine outside town. Scout had rigged a smaller version of the holographic projector that masked the jumpship. The vehicle blended in with the rock; no one would find it.
Jennifer had almost left without him; he'd run back to the ship for supplies. She didn't just take off then, figuring he'd only chase her down with the other skybike. She'd thought about it. Now, she was glad he came. He had the espionage training. He'd thought things through, and brought changes of clothes that would let them blend in with the locals.
Garbed in worn trousers, oversized jackets, gloves, scarves that pulled over their faces and disguised their features, they wandered into Tech City, looking like the typical scavengers that lived on the fringes of human settlements, trading the odd detritus of fallen civilization, scrounging a hard living out of the waste. People like that were common, living day to day. Barely living. Most of them were thin, dirty, ragged. Many of them ran from help, when Power and his team approached them with it. When Lord Dread spoke of humanity as a plague, filthy creatures who were a blight upon the earth, this was what he was talking about.
Dread failed to mention that if not for his Metal Wars that had scoured the earth and left much of it uninhabitable, most of the scavengers wouldn't have to live like that. Another of Dread's convenient myths.
Pilot and Scout kept their heads bowed, walking past other people who traveled the streets without pausing. She glanced at the symbols above shops, scanned the wares displayed on peddler's carts. She needed to find someone who dealt in biomechanical cyberware, someplace where such devices were sold, installed, implanted. Someone who knew something about turning people into machines. A few times, she caught glimpses of people with cybernetic implants visible on their faces or skulls--devices that allowed them to interface directly with computers. They'd had it done to themselves voluntarily. There were people here who did that to other people. Her own face itched where metal circuitry met flesh. She couldn't imagine wanting to merge with a machine like that.
Then again, yes, she could. She'd wanted it herself once. We will be given over to the machine, mechanized, immortal human minds in undying metalloid bodies. The litany of anti-life, the creed of the Dread Youth. She still remembered, no matter how much she wanted to forget. Praise of the machine was a religion to some people. She fought against that. Mustn't forget. Life was sacred.
Jon taught her that the first time they met, when he didn't shoot her outright. He'd confused her, by letting her live. She hadn't understood until later.
Scout stopped at a corner and gazed around, lips pursed, looking frustrated. "Even if we find someone who can tell us about that implant, I doubt we could trust them farther than we could throw them. We don't dare go to Mindsinger, after what happened last time. Not that we could afford her."
"Don't we have any friends here?" Surely someone around here owed Power and his team a few favors. She'd sort of been counting on it.
"Not after we came here looking for Locke. Right after the base blew." He gave her a wry, sidelong glance. "We were pretty upset."
Locke, their informant, had given them a data disk of information. The disk was blank. She'd been at the base, alone, when she discovered that the whole thing was a lure to give Dread its location. Vaguely worried, she said, "Did you find him?"
"Yup," Scout said with a satisfied nod.
"What did you do to him?"
He shrugged. "Took him to the Passages, stuck him in a deep hole where he could reflect on his actions for a good long time. Funny thing, he said he was sorry he'd done it the moment it happened. Then we told him that you'd there when the base blew, and the poor sucker couldn't stop crying. Kept saying how sorry he was." Scout pressed his lips into a thin, ironic smile. "I think Tank was disappointed that he didn't get to rough him up a little. I think we all were."
She could understand the impulse. She felt a small ember of anger--but it had happened so long ago, to her mind and experience, it hardly seemed worth bothering with now. "That wouldn't have been right, you know."
"Yeah, that's what the Captain said. After he took his hands off the guy's throat."
She gazed thoughtfully around. They were strangers here, no doubt about it. But people were people. They had to be able to make a deal.
Scout said, "We need to find someone who appreciates a challenge. This implant is straight from Dread's research lab. It's got be more advanced tech than most of the stuff floating around here. Whoever gets it out can have it."
Pilot blinked, and the world shifted--no. She shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again. She remained standing on the Tech City street with Scout. No lab, no confusion.
In fact, she felt a kind of certainty now. She touched Scout's arm and pointed. "Let's try this way."
"What's this way?"
"I don't know, I just have this feeling."
"You sure you can trust your feelings?"
She didn't answer. She felt like something else guided her body as she moved. It was the movement of a dream, of a nightmare--she knew when she opened the door the monster would be waiting for her, Soaron's chrome jaws and glowing eyes. She'd had that nightmare even before she left the Dread Youth.
"Scout." She squeezed his arm, stopping him. She looked: they were standing in front of a set of stairs, leading down to a solid doorway set in a concrete wall. It was the basement of a blockish building, two stories, with narrow windows that had bars over them.
"Should I power on my suit?"
They used the suits sparingly, since along with the base they'd lost the means of recharging them. She shook her head. "Maybe if you wait here--"
"I'm not letting you in there alone, even there is someone in there who can help you. Are you sure about this?"
She shook her head. "Something isn't right."
Nonetheless, without any volition on her part, she descended the stairs and moved the latch on the door.
"Pilot--"
She moved forward into a well-lit space, with clean white walls and a slick linoleum floor. Banks of medical equipment lined the walls, and in the center of the room was a padded chair, half-reclined, with straps on the arms and footrest.
The man who stepped before her wore the uniform of an Overunit.
"Well, doctor," he said smugly. "You were right. She did find her way here. At least that part of your programming worked."
Others moved into her sight--they wore white lab coats, and she recognized their faces. Recognized them from her half-awake dreams.
"Scout!" She turned to warn him.
A dozen human troops lurked in the corners for them. They rushed Pilot. Her instincts--her own, human instincts, not machine programming--kicked in. She ducked one set of arms, spun to dodge another. Someone grabbed her arm before she could reach her gun. She leveraged off her captor to kick another soldier in the gut.
Someone yelled, "Stop him, before he activates that damned suit!"
She'd never fought so hard, and the attack came from all sides. She was hurting them, too. One man fell, knocking another over. Another groaned when she chopped him in the back.
"Stop, Chase! Stop, or we'll kill your friend."
She froze, looked--two soldiers pinned Scout against the wall. A third held a rifle to his head. The Overunit in command spoke again.
"Surrender, or we'll shoot him."
She looked at Scout. He was breathing hard, and the collar of his shirt was torn, revealing the gleam of power suit underneath. The Dread soldiers immobilized his arms, or he'd have touched his badge in a heart beat. He stared back, his expression hard, unreadable. He must have thought she'd betrayed him, that she'd done this on purpose. Her head throbbed. She touched her temple; her fingers came away bloody. She hadn't even remembered getting hit.
"Do you surrender?" the Overunit demanded.
Slowly, she held up her hands. She'd lost. All this struggling for nothing.
"Good," he purred, with what seemed an unmachine-like amount of pride. He turned to the doctor, and the purr turned into a scowl. "She was supposed to be alone. But I suppose Lord Dread will be pleased to have another of Power's soldiers in hand."
Pilot repeated the words to herself. This wasn't part of the implant. The programming had activated in order to force her to come here. But Scout wasn't supposed to be here.
Which meant Scout wasn't part of the programming. He was real. He was part of the same reality where Jon had held her and told her he loved her. That was real.
Everything snapped into place. Finally, she felt awake. Too late, though--it was over, and she'd dragged Scout down with her.
Scout held her gaze, like he was trying to tell her something.
She said, "Scout, I'm so sorry--"
"It's okay--"
"I'm sorry for getting you into this."
"Pilot. It's going to be okay. Trust me."
"Your optimism is laughable," the Overunit said. Two of the scientists approached her. One of them held a syringe, testing it as he neared. Her heart pounded; she thought she was going to faint. They wouldn't even have to sedate her.
She wouldn't go back. She wouldn't go back to that nightmare state of being half-awake, half-alive.
The doctor with the syringe grabbed her arm and she flinched away. "No--"
"Remember your friend, Chase--we will shoot him!"
Scout was real. She knew this because Dread and the machine were incapable of creating a program that displayed friendship, loyalty--love. Why had she ever doubted?
She wouldn't let them hurt Scout. She willed herself to remain still while the doctor stabbed her with the needle and depressed the plunger. The numbness set in immediately.
"Jennifer, hold on," Scout said through gritted teeth. "Just hold on a little longer, it's going to be all right."
"Shut up, you!"
You're not alone, Jon had told her once. She'd carried him, his spirit, with her ever since.
"How did you bring me here?" she said, struggling past the weariness that was settling over her. Scout wouldn't let her look away. Hold on, just hold on.
The Overunit explained. "We had to summon you back to fix whatever is obviously wrong with the implant. The homing program was set to activate if your mission remained uncompleted after a certain amount of time. You could have destroyed Power and his team five times over since we set you loose. Why haven't you?"
"Because I'm stronger than your programming. I'm stronger than the machine!" She was so tired.
"No, you're not."
Two soldiers pulled her limp arms over their shoulders and dragged her to the chair. Hands worked settling her in, tying her down with straps. Her mind screamed. She wouldn't give in, she wouldn't. But her body didn't move.
"Lord Dread, we have the traitor Chase. And one of Power's men--with a functional power suit. We're ready to proceed."
"Excellent." His voice, she'd heard that voice in her mind, she'd fought against it. The holographic projection appeared before her again. His red eyes looked hard at her. He said, "Youth Leader Chase. You have returned to the fold. As I always knew you would."
"No," she murmured.
Jennifer, hold on.
-------------------------
"Captain, I know you're going to kill me for this, but Pilot and I are headed to Tech City. Now, it's not as bad as it sounds--she started to go by herself. I talked her into letting me come along. She's determined to do something about this thing one way or another, and I can't say I blame her. But I think there's something else--something about the programming in that implant that's pushing her into this. Call it a hunch. Anyway, Dread's been using that implant to get to us--maybe this is a chance for us to use it to get to him. The receiver to your right will tune you into a homing transmitter I'm wearing. Now hopefully, when you find us, everything'll be fine and we'll have a good laugh. But if not. . .well. . . Sergeant Baker out."
When they returned to the jumpship, Jon and Hawk found the hurried message Scout recorded. The receiver, a small device attached to a wrist band, lay right where Scout said it was. The time stamp on the message read two hours ago. Not long. Then again--too long.
Hawk's commentary was to the point, as usual. "Captain, if you're not going to kill him, I will."
"Not if I get to him first," Tank added, frowning fiercely.
Thoughtfully, Jon crossed his arms and stared at the receiver. Pilot hadn't been in complete control of her actions since she'd woken up from the coma. It was maddening--she'd fought so hard for her freedom, to break away from the machine, and now it trapped her. Short of knocking her out, Scout probably wouldn't have been able to stop her from leaving. He was right, then, to go with her. And if the implant was controlling her, leading her into danger, he'd be able to protect her.
And he'd need their help.
"Hawk, get the ship warmed up. We're going after them."
This time, she wouldn't be alone. This time, he could go to her.
-------------------
After masking the jumpship, the three donned the rough clothes of fringer nomads. They needed the disguises--they'd had too many run-ins in Tech City for them to be safe here. They wouldn't power on their suits until the last minute.
Jon followed the coordinates on the receiver's read-out. Hawk had point, scanning ahead of them for trouble. Tank brought up the rear. His intimidating presence kept people out of their way.
The receiver showed a steady ticking. Close, but not close enough. The receiver showed distance, but in the maze-like warren of streets and alleys that made up Tech City, Scout and Pilot could be anywhere.
"We ought to be right on top of it," Jon said.
Hawk slipped around the next corner, then called back over his shoulder. "Captain, I think this may be the place we're looking for."
Up ahead, four biomechs stood guard in front of a building with a basement level door.
Jon gave his friend a sardonic look. "You think?"
By the shelter of the opposite building, Power and his men huddled in conference.
"Once we take out those biomechs, they're sure to raise some kind of an alarm," Jon said. "We don't have any time to lose. We take them out, and keep moving, right through the door. Once inside, we assess. Incapacitate anyone in a Dread uniform. Find Scout and Pilot and get out. That's the objective: get everyone out alive." This time, everyone makes it out alive, Jon thought.
"And if it's a trap?" Hawk asked.
"Then we bring the building down on top of them. Tank, you'll hold the door. Leave us an exit if things get too hairy."
Tank nodded. "Power suits, yes or no?"
"Yes," Power said. "We won't have time to stop and activate them in the middle of things. I'm not worried about conserving power this trip." Nobody argued. He pressed his lips into a grim smile. "Then let's do it."
As a group, they straightened, and pressed their fists to the phoenix badges they wore.
"Power on!"
A charge of energy flared around them, hissing and snapping. Power's hair stood on end, then the comforting weight of the armor settled over him. When the aura of electricity faded, he looked out through the face shield of his helmet. Hawk and Tank, encased in their own armor, stood beside him.
"Tank, you take the two on the left. Hawk, the one on the right. I'll take the middle, then the door. Follow when you can."
"We'll be right behind you, Captain," Tank said grimly.
"Stepping on your heels." Hawk's grin turned cocky.
"Let's go."
They ran. Couldn't hesitate, couldn't pause. Couldn't give the clickers time to raise their weapons. Knife in hand, Power barreled into the biomech in the middle, shoving its rifle back at him the same time he drove his blade into the vulnerable circuitry of the neck. He threw the machine to the ground, at the same time ripping up with his weapon until the thing's head came off.
Power tossed it aside without pausing. He traded knife for blaster and gunned down the door. True to their words, Hawk and Tank were right on his heels, leaving a pile of twitching, sparking biomechs behind them.
He couldn't even pause to take in the scene, to find Jennifer, to make sure she was all right. A squad of overunits--human troops this time, not biomechs--faced him, gaping in shock.
At least Power and his team had the element of surprise with them.
Then, chaos took over the room.
"Ah-ha! It's about time you guys showed up!" That was Scout, being held against the wall by a couple of soldiers. Scout took advantage of the distraction and knocked their guns out of the way, and touching his fist to his phoenix badge. "Power on!"
"You might have left better directions!" Hawk said.
"Sorry," Scout said with his typical snide tone that meant he wasn't sorry at all.
Better odds, now. Good.
Tank had already thrown three troops against the far wall, Hawk was grappling with another. They didn't have time for this. Power looked for someone who looked to be in charge, while slamming to the floor and stunning a soldier who got in the way.
There, an overunit looking green around the gills. And behind him, a trio in lab coats. They didn't have weapons, and in fact were blinking, stunned, like fish. Power discounted them. The overunit, however, he grabbed by the collar and shoved to the wall. Without even thinking of it, his hand found his blaster and pointed the nose of it into the man's chin.
"Tell your people to stand down or I'll shoot," Power said to him. And at that moment he was angry enough, desperate enough, he might even do it.
The overunit attempted a defiant snarl. It came out more like a grimace. "I thought you made an oath to preserve life. You're famous for it. You won't shoot me."
Would he do it? Break the vow he'd managed to keep all these years? He'd come close before. So many times, he'd come close. Such a hard vow to keep when he saw Dread's followers flout it so casually. But he'd always held back. Was the overunit right? Was he incapable of shooting?
If it meant saving Jennifer, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He'd learn to live with it after she was safe.
He spat back, "I've about lost all patience with you people. You want to try me?"
The overunit's voice quavered. "Surrender! All troops surrender!"
But the fighting had already stopped. The few soldiers still conscious had paused to see what their commander would do. It was over, now.
"Tank, Scout, lock these clowns up somewhere." Power threw the overunit into Tank's waiting grip. He gestured to the doctors in the lab coats to follow. Scout was herding them all to what looked like a side closet.
Finally, Jon had a look around. In the back of the room was a lab: very high tech, very well equipped, filled with computers and monitors. In the middle of the lab area was a chair, and strapped to the chair was Jennifer. Jon suppressed a wave of dizziness brought on by panic. She was okay, she had to be okay--
She was awake. Her gaze met his, and she smiled.
Hawk was at her side first, ripping apart the straps, freeing her. Immediately, she tried to sit up, and nearly toppled over the side of the chair.
"Whoa there, not so fast!" Hawk steadied her. "We don't know what they doped you with."
She held her head in her hands. "I'm so confused," she muttered. "How did you find us?"
Scout, grinning madly, called back to her. "I did more than go back for supplies. I left a message for the cavalry."
Incredibly, after all she'd been through, Jennifer laughed. "I must be the luckiest idiot in the world to have friends like you."
Jon found the feeling of hope in him almost unbearable. Something had happened--she was smiling, laughing. She was better. He didn't notice moving to the chair where she'd been held prisoner. He was just there, by her side, like he'd always said he would be.
He touched her arm. "Pilot, the next time you decide to go haring off on a secret mission, I'm coming with you. Got it?"
She bit her lip and smiled. "Yes, sir."
He took off his helmet so he could meet her gaze eye to eye. Never again, he thought. You'll never be alone again.
The gleam in her eye turned mischievous. Before he knew what was happening, she reached up, gripped the back of his neck, and with a surprising amount of strength for someone who'd recently been sedated, she pulled him toward her and kissed him. With her characteristic determination, she brought her lips to his and made it clear exactly how she felt.
This wasn't a dream. She didn't melt away.
His arms folded around her. He closed his eyes and reveled in her warmth, the life in her. This was worth fighting any number of battles.
He hated coming up for air. She pulled away first, resting her cheek against his.
Jon shifted to whisper in her ear. "I used to dream of this. I'd try to kiss you--and you'd disappear."
"But this isn't a dream. It's real. It's real this time."
A bomb could have dropped on them right then and they wouldn't have noticed. Scout, however, was another matter.
He leaned on the table at Jennifer's feet. Reluctantly, Jon looked away from her.
"Hey, you know, Captain, I think we've got the equipment here to neutralize that implant once and for all. What do you say, Pilot?"
She studied the room, all its computer banks, all the data stored there, all the equipment. She found Jon's hand and squeezed.
"The sooner we get started, the sooner we can get out of here and back to the real world."
The End