Interval 02 - Recovery

Betters had just finished the entire bottle of scotch. He wasn't drunk, just a little more relaxed. His nerves hadn't gotten a break all day. A knock on his office door brought straight to attention. He didn't want to give an answer. He figured it was either the senator or one of his cronies trying find someplace to drop the blame for the Auburn Incident; more specifically, the order to have the Armacham bunker destroyed.

He decided he couldn't possibly receive any more bad news and beckoned the visitor to come in.

"What do you want?" Betters drawled as a short, stocky man with a balding head in a black business suit appeared holding a ream of papers. The man appeared visibly agitated and glanced this way and that as if to make sure no one was following him.

"Excuse me, sir. You need to see this right away. Our worst fears have been realized."

"Well pardon my lack hospitality, Mr.…"

"Fries." The man said nervously, "Abel Fries."

No Betters was the one looking agitated. "Well are you going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to tell me what this is about?"

"Sir," Fries said slowly, "You need to see these papers. They're what's left of Armacham's classified documents. I grabbed everything I could from Wade's home before…"

"Wait a minute." Betters said, holding up his hand, "I want to know who the hell gave you access to Armacham's classified files. There is a very serious, uh, incident regarding that company and you can be sure that what ever you have in that stack is off limits." Betters stared at the man through glaring eyes. "To everyone."

"Yes, well, then perhaps you don't fully appreciated the gravity of this situation."

"Don't even think you can tell me what the gravity of the situation is!" Betters bellowed, "The government is already breathing down our backs about what happened in Auburn! I've got a chopper going out there right now to try and see if my point man either survived the explosion or got ass fucked trying escape! Don't you dare tell me what the gravity of the situation is!"

Fries slunk into his chair and spoke calmly and quietly. "Do you want to see what I've got or not?"

"Send it down to the evidence collection office. It's down the hall."

"With all do respect, this is highly sensitive information. I need you to understand that I would not be giving you this if Harlan Wade were not dead."

So he knows about Harlan Wade, Betters thought.

"So what is it?"

"This is a complete transcription of the Origin Project. Everything you would ever want to know is in this." Fries held the sack of paper in front of Betters as if it were a Bible. This guy was definitely a little off his rocker.

Betters took the paper from him. If this was joke, he didn't have the time to waste. But if it were real, it would fill in some very large holes in the computer data the point man had secured. Flipping through it, he found the pages had nothing more than lines upon line of numbers and code.

"What is this shit?"

"I'm sorry for presentation. It was transcripted from raw computer data. It needs to be processed."

Betters threw the stack back to him. "Then process it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Certain events have been set in motion that cannot be stopped. She will not care if you know the truth now. It is too late."

"Who? Stop talking in riddles, damnit."

"I'm sorry, Mister Betters." Fries said, rising from his chair and slinking back towards the office door. "I must go now. My time is up."

What the hell is he talking about? Betters said to himself. "You're not going anywhere, Mr. Fries. If you're a witness to ATC dealings, we need you here until this mess is straightened up."

"I can't do that." Fries said absently. His gaze was focused on something else.

"Mr. Fries," Betters said, drawing his AT-14 pistol, "I can call security and have you detained or you can cooperate."

"That's not likely," Fries said as he turned and ran out of the office.

I can't let that bastard escape! Betters raced back to his desk and pushed a security button. "All security, we have a suspect on the loose on floor three! Close off all exits!"

Two security guards playing poker and a third idly sipping a soda immediately sprang into action. The also readied their weapons; RPL sub-machine guns. If this guy was going down instead of cooperating, he was going down with ass full of lead.

"Spread out!" Betters said, coming down the hallway, "If you find him, detain him if at all possible. You two go to the elevators and shut 'em down. You" he said pointing to the guard who'd bee sipping the soda, "Come with me. We'll try to cut off the path to the windows."

Abel Fries could here the dull thudding of the guards' boots as they hustled down the hallways and through cubicles in search of their prey. He was in the break room and they had him cornered.

The first guard raised his sub-machinegun at Fries and ordered him to remain still. "Don't move, buddy or you'll get it in the back. All fifty rounds." Fries realized he was done for.

"This is Smith," The guard said into his headset, "I've got the suspect in

"You fool!" Fries muttered under his breath, "I can't be stopped. She can't be stopped!" With that, Fries turned and ran. The guard yelled at him to freeze once before he opened fire.

CHINK! CHINK! CHINK! The little sub-machinegun lit up the room with its bursts of fire. The bullets slammed into the wall behind Fries full-force, completely obliterating not only the wall, but any pictures, chairs, or coffee mugs standing in their way.

But it was no use. Fries looked like he was heading straight for a wall. I've got him cornered, Smith though.

Fries kept running and jumped into the wall. That was it. The chase was over. The guard stood dumbfounded. His prey had just leapt through a wall and disappeared.

"Uh, Mr. Betters," the guard said nervously into his walkie-talkie, "I have some news and I bet your not going to like it."