Story: Harrison 15

[jim vassilakos]

Copyright 1992 by Jim Vassilakos
All Rights Reserved

Permission is granted by the copyright holder to copy
and distribute this work such that no commercial or
barter consideration is obtained in exchange for such copies.

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Fifteen

She surveyed the arcing waters with a stubborn glare. Beneath the
cliff's grey face, an undulating seascape swayed tauntingly, the
roar of pounding waves echoing between the sharp protruding rocks
along the dim, purple coastline. It was like Harrison to come to
such a place, she thought. It would be even more like him to
stay. She motioned Jun and Clark down the rocky slope along
either side of the ridge as Vlep massaged the rocks at the head
of the cliff, laying on one side as he reached downward along its
face.
"What is it, Vlep?"
"Fear."
"Harrison's?"
"Either his or that of children who were sacrificed so long
ago. Who can tell?"
"You'd better."
Vlep looked up, a light drizzle beginning to fall from the
clouds above.
"The quarry was definitely here, Sule. I can feel his presence
and that of his psyche all over these rocks."
"Go down."
Vlep slumped his shoulders, wishing he hadn't revealed so
much. Carefully stepping along the damp, slippery face of the
cliff, he crept down part way and then looked back up, half
expecting mercy.
"It is not very safe, Sule."
"Be careful."
Vlep sighed, certain that she would be the death of him yet.
Continuing to the eyehooks, he could sense fear all the stronger,
most of it his own. And yet there was more, like the gleam of a
diamond in the middle of a dim, crimson pool, water splashing all
around yet never washing away the stain. The roar of the waves
seemed to lose rhythm, and then the screech of brakes imparted a
small cloud of falling dust, bits of sand sprinkling upon him
along with the soft morning shower.
Vlep climbed back up. It was the guard Sule had posted at the
Tyberian Compound. He was holding a small, black object before
Sule, his eyes gleaming in the dim predawn light.
"Look Sule. The android brain."
"Very good, Mito. Did the gatherer come back?"
"No, a boy. It was dark, and I made a mess of him. I'm sorry,
Sule."
She bit her lip.
"Forget it. We have what we're looking for."
"What about the quarry?"
"This dodec is the real quarry, Mito. Now go collect
the others, and call in the hydrofoil. I have a delivery to
make."
Vlep dusted himself off, thankful for the reprieve.
"Does that hunk of cermic mean that I don't have to go
swimming?"
"What did you find out?"
"Is very hard to say. Harrison's impressions are probably more
than fifty cents old, possibly as much as a full day, but the
fear is very intense."
"Strange."
"I know what you are thinking, Sule. If he wanted to take a
boat, this cliff is not the best point of access."
"He didn't dive off?"
"He climbed down and then back up. I'm certain."
"One immediately following the other?"
Vlep shook his head, "That is hard to tell. The impressions go
right into the water."
"If he knows about headquarters..."
"How could he?"
"I want you to continue to track him wherever the trail leads
from here. Take the others in the jeep and leave me with the
government car. We'll meet back at the Arien Mansion for
Erestyl's appointment. Understood?"

Clark carefully descended the steep hillside, a flashlight in one
hand and an automatic pistol in the other. Purple hued sands
shifted in the crisp sea breeze, droplets from above snaking
through the turbulent air as two pointy rocks jutted up from the
beach, their shiny grey surfaces glinting ominously in the faint
predawn light. He crept toward them, shining his flashlight into
the narrow crack between.
"Clark!"
He turned, unsteady, as the wind tossed a shower of soft sand
into his eyes.
"Damn. Mito?"
"It's just me, Clark."
Clark lowered the pistol, shaking the dirt from his eyes.
"I heard you pull up. You bring the IR goggles?"
"Yeah, they're in the jeep. They came in real handy."
"What are you talking about?"
"That android brain. It showed up at the Tyberian Compound.
Lucky me."
"Harrison went back?"
Mito shook his head, "A kid. I was so raw I just blew him away
without thinking. I feel like crap."
"No shit."
"C'mon, Sule wants us."
Mike stayed between the rocks until the wind stole their
voices. One glance in infrared and he knew he'd be finished.

"What I still don't understand is how you got him to agree. The
Arien's couldn't be too thrilled about working for ISIS."
Sule smiled, "Everyone has a price, Vlep; albeit, not everyone
yearns for the same commodity."
"You speak in riddles, traveler."
"Is that what you dirtsiders call neghrali who have power over
you?"
The others arrived, each one posing in the typical "recruit's
stance", trying not to stand out from one another for fear of
being ordered to do something either dangerous or repugnant.
Finally, Clark stepped toward the jeep, pulling a pair of
infrared goggles from the back seat. He turned back, examining
the landscape on both sides of the cliff as the gentle rain
continued to fall.
"Nothing."
Mike surfaced from the frigid waters as the jeep began pulling
away. The woman sat leaning against the hood of the government
car, her wet, stringy hair blending against the white paint.
Ducking back beneath the waves, he swam to the foot of the
cliffs, wading into shore beneath the steep hillside. He
dropped to the ground when the faint hum of a hydrofoil
played across the windswept waves. Slowing and settling amid
the choppy crests, the craft's two gravitic modules kept its
thick, silver frame from sinking entirely.
He recognized it as the Tizarian Skipstone-Cruiser, one of the
few fast and submersible, four-seater hydrofoils on the market.
The more popular Skipstone-Safari model discarded two seats in
favor of an autocannon and munitions magazine. Mike remembered
reading about how vacationers preferred to shoot the local
critters rather than take their friends along to snap images.
Mike ducked back down when he heard the splash, and by the
time he mustered the courage to peek over the rocks, the blonde
woman was already aboard, her white mane dripping in the tender
morning drizzle. She carried the dodec, and Mike gritted his
teeth in disappointment as the vehicle turned sharply about and
sped into the distant horizon.
The government car's fiberglass window put up a valiant
resistance, but Mike eventually forced his way inside. Reaching
under the dash, he yanked loose two wires and crossed one over
the other. The engine coughed and turned over, finally starting
with a belated roar, and Mike found an automatic pistol and three
clips of ammunition resting inside the glove compartment along
with a pair of handcuffs and a pack of breath mints. He smiled,
shifting the stick into reverse and letting up on the clutch.
With only a mild groan, the car lurched backward down the back
of the hillside. He wheeled the car around and stepped on the
gas, memories of the chase on Telmar flooding into his mind. Mike
had been driving while Davin and Bill were at the back window,
unloading everything they had into their pursuers. If they'd only
pulled over and ditched the car, he figured maybe Davin would
have survived.
Then he noticed his mistake.

"Hey... look at that."
Clark peeked over Jun's shoulder. The blue monitor showed a
pixel of light trudging upward from bottom toward center.
"Sule?"
"Bet you a month's wages it's Harrison."
Clark's eyes widened, threatening to jump out from their
sockets. Then the pixel disappeared.
"Yep. It's him."
"Turn around and floor it!"
The jeep ground to a near stop before swinging around and
speeding back toward the coast.
"Why weren't you able to find him, Vlep?!"
"I... I've got a real bad feeling about this."
Mito groaned, "Look, just everyone shut-up. If he gets away,
we're all dead. You understand?!"
Clark clicked off his pistol's safety switch and stood up in
the seat, firing several rounds into the tall brush.
"Over there! He's off the..."
The jolt in his chest sent Clark sprawling backward off the
vehicle. A few moments later, several rounds had shattered the
windshield. The jeep skidded to a halt, and two figures darted
into the brush as Mito fired on the government car from behind
his driver's door. The left side of his neck suddenly spattered
open, hurtling him into the door.
"Shit, he's behind us."
Vlep kept his nose to the ground as Jun fired numerous rounds
into the bushes, finally dropping down to reload. With his head
pounding, he tried to pull himself to his feet and assume a
covering position, but something in his brain told him to stay
down, freezing his legs into place. Meanwhile, Jun fumbled a
clip of ammunition into the handle of his automatic.
"What are you doing just laying down?!"
Vlep opened his mouth to respond, but there was no need. Jun's
head had already swiveled forcibly, a bullet's impact ripping the
nose clean from his face. Jun tried to turn back around, raising
his firearm toward the bushes and squeezing the trigger, but his
skull popped sideways, a red cascade with bits of bone erupting
from his ear and flailing into the cold rain. Vlep wanted to raise
his weapon also, but his hand remained frozen, his entire body
quaking with indecision as he felt the quarry's presence sweep over
him. He waited several moments for the recognition of death that
his elders had taught him to respect, but instead, he saw only
Harrison, panting in the windy precipitation, clutching a firearm
which was aimed steadily in his direction. There was no vision,
no angels to lift his spirit, but only the thunderous pounding
of an icy, blue curtain into a wall of grey hillside. So they
waited together, each to his own thoughts, as Harrison bent over
slightly to catch his breath, and together they listened to the
crashing waves and the angry chirping of white-feathered gulls
that rose haltingly like the voices of crying children caught
somewhere in that vertical plane between the clash of two mighty
and unrelenting elements.

* * *

Crystal blue eyes surveyed the horizon, daring a blink only as
the hydrofoil came into view.
"You look thirsty, Mr. Clay."
The Director offered him a purple-violet concoction, Draconian
dweomerwyne if memory served.
"It's been a while since I've seen her."
"It."
Clay smiled as he accepted the highbowl. It bobbed slightly in
total ignorance of the waves. Steadying it with two fingers, he
allowed a portion of the crisp, sweet liquid to drain down his
throat.
"Robin is more than an it, Director, even if we must be
enemies now."
The Director nodded. She seemed more bemused than interested.
Clay sighed and turned back toward the railing as the hydrofoil
slowly turned and circled. It kicked up water, splashing it away
from the houseboat as it slowed to a full stop. Tossing it a line,
the deck hand slowly reeled it in and lowered a stiff rope
ladder. Sule hopped on board and showed her prize to the
director, but Clay ignored them both, at once revolted and yet
strangely entranced by what his psuedo-niece had become.
"What's the matter, Mr. Clay?"
"It's just strange to see Robin like this." He accepted the
dodec from Sule, adding, "I suppose it's all she ever was."
"Let us hope so. What of the gatherer, Sule?"
"He still eludes us. I left Mito in charge of the pursuit
team, and they are continuing the search as we speak."
"I still want him."
"Director, I am working with untrained, unskilled,
untalented..."
"I am aware of your excuses, Sule. Find him. And while you are
at it, you might as well take Ambassador Kato and Erestyl with
you. We don't want them to be late for Mr. Arien. Meanwhile,
we'll let Mr. Clay crack the dodec for us. I trust that Robin
knows you, John?"
Clay grimaced, "It does."
He stepped below deck as Major Doran emerged with the
Draconian Ambassador. Cuffed and half-conscious, she looked more
like the door prize at a Calannic orgy than a high ranking
diplomat. Sule regarded the Draconian with a contemptuous scowl.
"I take it she has not been completely cooperative."
"She made her decision, Sule. It is unfortunate that we could
not use her."
"She could be valuable, Director."
"I doubt it."
"With her knowledge of the DSS..."
"What knowledge?"
Sule caught the Ambassador as she slumped forward into her
arms. Doran smiled and returned below deck.
"But when the drugs wear off."
"What drugs?"
Sule nodded, finally understanding.
"Mr. Arien may not accept her in this condition."
"You will make certain that he does not know until it is too
late."
The deck hand carried Ambassador Kato to the hydrofoil as Doran
emerged with Erestyl. The Cassiopeiaen physicist looked emaciated
and worn, his small body no more than a slender bag of bones. The
scanner operator accompanied them, a sheepish look of uselessness
about him as he ran his fingers through a patch of curly, red
hair. Sule motioned Doran toward the hydrofoil and then turned
back to the operator.
"No luck?"
He shrugged, "Erestyl put up a determined fight. I think we
can crack him with enough time, but there's a risk that we may
wipe the information we're looking for. What we really need is a
telepath."
"What about the ambassador?"
"We didn't really have a chance. It was obvious from the onset
that she was well trained in resisting the scanner. That, plus
her psychic talents... we just decided to go in and make her
useless to the Draconians. She'll have the drugged look for the
rest of her life. With therapy, maybe she could learn to talk
again, if she's lucky."
Sule nodded, turning back toward the director.
"I'll be back with Erestyl tomorrow morning."
"Terminate him after you receive the necessary information
from Mr. Arien. We can't chance him falling back into Draconian
hands."
"And what of Mr. Arien?"
"He'll be taken care of once we are all offworld. We have
already reserved rooms aboard the Crimson Queen. Before another
day begins, we will be aboard her, traveling back to Ares in the
very lap of luxury."
Sule smiled, "Assuming all goes well. You know I can't
guarantee Harrison. But when we're done with Erestyl, I'll radio
you."
"Forget about Harrison. We can dispatch a unit to Tizar to
deal with him when he returns."
"Okay."
Major Doran sat at the pilot's seat as Sule entered the
hydrofoil's fuselage.
"Where's the pilot?"
"You're looking at him."
Sule nodded, "Well, what are we waiting for?"
The hydrofoil sped away, skipping along the waves as it
reached 150 kilometers per hour. Back aboard the houseboat, Clay
was supervising the techies.
"Turn the camera on me. I want to be the first thing she sees.
You're ready with the access code?"
"Check."
"Okay, make the connection."
The deafening noise sped across the waves, and for a bare
instant, Sule thought that god had dropped a piece of the sun on
the ocean just to watch the steam it would make. In back of them,
the fireball increased in size until she could feel the heat
blistering her face through the windshield. She hit the stick,
but power control was already gone. The blast shock sent them
tumbling end over end, finally drilling them into the water as a
huge tidal crest swept overhead. Cold water jetted into the cabin
as the superstructure creaked and whined, threatening to implode
with each passing moment.
"Doran!"
He was knocked out cold.
"Damnit, Doran!"
She scrambled out of her seat and unfastened his belt,
throwing him into the back as she tangled with the controls.
"How do I stabilize? Doran, wake up!"
"Wha...?"
"How do I re-start this thing?!"
"Lower left... pull it."
The craft's engines refused to acknowledge her efforts. Even
the ultra-reliable gravitic units balked at their call to duty.
"The electronics must be fried."
"Floatation..."
"What?!"
The major pointed toward a red lever on the corner of the
floor. She unhitched its safety and gave it a stern yank. A
moment later, she heard a gas release. Two yellow bags appeared
from the bow, slowly raising the craft toward the surface as
Doran tried to find his way to the front passenger seat.
"What happened?"
"We got nuked, Major."

* * *

The noise of the blast could be heard up and down the coast for
more than twenty kilometers. Mike looked skyward, expecting to
see a wasp fighter just crossing the sound barrier. The morning
clouds were burning off fairly quickly, and a majestic rainbow
cut between bands of blue, white, and grey clear from one horizon
to the other. He squinted at the continual on-rush of air,
quietly cursing himself for shattering the jeep's front window.
If he'd only remembered to shut off the tracer on the government
car, he could have avoided the entire situation.
It was noon before Mike reached the geyser or Sintrivani as
it was known locally. He parked along the ridge facing the coast
beneath a tall hotel and condominium complex. Below the ridge,
the hot waters of the Sintrivani shot from a man-made spring,
reaching well over half a kilometer in altitude before they came
tumbling back to earth in the form of a warm, misty veil. A crowd
composed mainly of children flew about in saucer-shells, small
makeshift floaters shaped as flattened spheres. They soared with
gleeful zeal to the top of the geyser while dodging and just as
often crashing into loose globules of water held together by
faint gee-points in the giant low-gravity field. Those without
the shells contented themselves with jumping upwards, a hundred
meters or more, and then coasting back to the surface, splashing
water pockets on friends and strangers. Naked above the waist and
barefoot, Mike figured he didn't look very much out of place.
He found Cecil and Spokes camping out on the circular cement
amidst about a hundred other people, mostly parents. If it wasn't
for their gleaming head-jacks and Cecil's three cameras connected
to his skull via invisible radio beams, they would have looked
like the stars of some Tizarian vacation commercial, laying back
in lounge chairs eating pocket-bread meat pies and sipping iced
guava juice beneath tall, shady umbrellas. Vilya's cat wandered
nearby, coaxing food from children and parents alike. Mike
approached, carefully side-stepping its stage ego, as the two
chiphead nodded their acknowledgements.
"Greetings, gatherer."
"Well if it isn't Mr. Lucky."
Mike sat down on the green, ice chest between them, picking
out a bottle of guava and uncapping it with his teeth. Spokes
regarded him with a mysterious mixture of fascination and
regrets.
"Where did you go last night?"
"The beach."
"Johanes told us that the Imps came looking for you at the
Tyberian Compound. Said he almost got nailed coming back for you.
A mutual acquaintance of yours bit it in there."
Mike gulped down the juice. It was bitter and tangy, the sort
of stuff best sipped during idle hours under the sun rather than
taken in mouthfuls.
"Good time for you to take a vacation, Spokes?"
"I'm just a part-timer. I'm not going back until Johanes tells
me this thing is over."
"Where is he, by the way?"
"In the condo. He's watching the news. Something big must have
happened, I guess."
Mike nodded, "Then that's where I'm going."
The main lobby was about as clean as Mike remembered it, sand
scattered about on turquoise tiles, white walls smudged with the
occasional dirty hand print, and children running about
everywhere. Mike strolled through cautiously, slowly scanning the
faces as a hazel-eyed girl ran by. Upstairs, the floors were
cleaner, the noise level much quieter. Cecil once said that he
liked the quiet as much as the noise and that he would refuse to
buy into a place without a balance of the two. Mike tested the
door and then knocked when he found it locked, pressing his palm
against the peeper. A long moment passed, and then the door swung
outward, almost knocking Mike on his rear. Johanes hunched down
on the floor, reaching up with a pistol.
"Michael."
Mike put his hands up, waving them like a politician seeking
office.
"Hey, take it easy. I just wanted to surprise you."
"A guy can get dead that way."
"Like the kid?"
Johanes dropped the pistol on a counter top, hesitating ever
so slightly as Mike laid out the question. A flicker of
resentment invaded his eyes even as he shook it off, crossing the
room to turn up the volume on the three-vee.
"His name was Nicholas."
They sat on the floor in front of the depth box as three-
dimensional images of gravcars and choppers circled over an empty
expanse of sea. In the background, a reporter was chattering
about devastation to the oceanic wildlife. The scene cut to the
cliffs of Erfalas. Mike's eyes widened as mention of a nuclear
detonation reached his ears.
"I heard it."
"Was it loud?"
"Sort of."
"They say it was small. Under a hectoton. Good thing the
magnetic pulse didn't reach this far."
Outside the window Mike could see dozens of children circling
the giant, watery plume. He imagined the gravity inhibitors
failing as tiny bags of blood and bone would spatter on the wet
cement.
"Quite a image for your Galactican. Eh, Michael? Front page
material?"
Mike gulped down a hunk of air, belching it back out with as
much force as he could muster. Johanes grinned wearily as Mike
studied his reflection on the glass.
"You thought that was funny?"
Johanes nodded, "Proof that we're real men. We've got guns,
and we can make disgusting noises."
"There's more where that one came from."
"Spare me."
"On one condition... you tell me why it happened."
Johanes dropped his grin, "They're still trying to figure that
part out."
"About Nicholas."
He shifted, then shrugged, "What's to say? We were coming back
to pick you up. He ran inside before me, and then I heard gun
spray. You want me to say it straight out? I got scared and ran
away."
"Why did the kid have..."
A knock at the door cut him off. It was Cecil, bitching about
how he was being locked out of his own place. Johanes looked
toward the door sluggishly and then turned back toward the three-
vee.
"You get it."
Cecil looked somewhat disgruntled as Mike opened the door, as
though the sancity of his domestic life were somehow threatened
by his old friend's presence. He seemed to cheer up when he saw
Johanes, however. Even the kitty seemed entranced by the Draconian
as it half-jumped, half-fell from Cecil's arms to greet him.
"Down you go, Pooper-dumper."
Mike winced, "Pooper-dumper?"
"Cat had to have a name. How do, Johanes? Much good on the
boob-box?"
Mike scratched his head and tried to look offended.
"You're happy to see him but not me?"
"We figured that if he was still here, it's probably safe to
be around you."
"Hey Harrison," Spokes came in lugging two of Cecil's cameras.
"Gimmie a hand with the ice chest, will ya?"
"Where's his other cam?"
"Look out the window."
Mike grabbed one end of the chest and dragged it inside,
looking outside the window into the silvery mist of the geyser as
he reached the center of the room. A girl was gliding Cecil's
camera upward in her saucer-shell, steering it toward the
apartment complex while warm blankets of mist fell over her,
making her appear half-solid, half-ethereal. Cecil was already on
the balcony waving for the others to follow. Only Johanes refused,
and Mike couldn't resist making rabbit-eared fingers over his old
friend's head. Cecil noticed it right away, of course, but he
snapped the image anyway. When they came back inside, it danced
about on the three-vee, changing hue and shade with each new
iteration.
"Will send a copy to Tizar. You can consider it our team
photo."
Spokes winced, "Do me a favor and don't let it get out. I
don't want to be more connected to this gatherer than I already
am."
Mike grinned, "Can I quote you?"
"I'm serious, Harrison. I could already lose my job."
Cecil snorted, trying to cover up his reaction as Spokes
looked him over.
"You got a problem with my job now?"
"Other than that it stinks, none whatsoever."
"Yeah, well it's safe. I like safe. I don't have any psychotic
urges like other certain people to be a big hero. I don't need
medals and trophies. Money will do just fine, thank you."
"Speaking of trophies," Johanes dug something out the bottom
of the trash container, "Catch, Michael. We were saving her for
you."
Mike watched it tumble in mid-air, the etching of a song bird
on jet black. With a fluster of clashing perceptions, he fumbled
the dodec to the floor, still scarcely believing his own eyes.
"Well, either you're a lousy catch..." Johanes looked out the
window, watching the tiny blue waves sway along the horizon. He
decided to snatch his pistol off the counter top, slipping its
nose down the crack between his butt cheeks as he turned back
toward Mike.
"Tell me you're just a lousy catch."
Mike shook his head, turning toward the three-vee and then
back again. It all started to make sense.
"Your doing?"
"I'll explain later."
Spokes looked worried and confused, stepping out of his way as
Johanes headed for the door.
"Hey, where're you going?"
"Out for a walk."
Johanes headed down the hall toward the elevator as Spokes
watched after him in the doorway, ducking down so his tall jacks
wouldn't scrape against the frame.
"Well at least tell me if it's still safe to be here!"

* * *

She found the white government car resting slightly off the road,
all four of its tires punctured with bullet holes. Three corpses
were propped over it, and rigor mortis had already set in. Not
being in the mood for a burial, she would allow them to rot in
the white, hot sun. Vlep was asleep at the steering wheel. That he
had been hand-cuffed to it without sustaining so much as a bruise
angered her even more. It meant he gave in without a fight. She
expected as much from a psyche. Leaning close to his ear, she
allowed her breath to brush the soft wax within.
"Vlep!!!"
He hit his head on the roof, nearly tugging his wrist out of
joint in the process.
"Sule?"
"Who did you think it was? Your fairy godmother?!"
"Sule... Harrison was here."
"Really?!?"
She grabbed the steering wheel, yanking it clear of its
housing. Vlep tumbled out of the car, dropping to the ground at
her feet. He knew she was strong. Bio-synthetics often had that
tendency. But he had no idea she was that strong. He picked
himself and the steering wheel up from the dirt, dusting himself
off with his one free hand.
"I... I can follow him, Sule. I can find him."
She watched him with a mixture of sympathy and scorn.
"I don't care about Harrison, you idiot. I don't give a damn
about the robot brain. This futile chase has cost us everything."
"But..."
"Everything, Vlep! HQ is gone!"
"How?"
"Look at my sunburn and take a wild guess!"
Vlep pondered the problem, his mind refusing to so much as
acknowledge the possibility of a nuclear detonation. Sule watched
the skepticism fade from his eyes, finally kicking a dent into
the car door to vent her anger.
"I've got the major and two prisoners in the hydrofoil.
They're probably going to be sick, and we've got no
transportation."
"The hydro..."
"The magnetic pulse fried the electronics. I managed to get
one of the engines working manually, but it's not going to get us
anywhere I want to go. I was hoping, almost praying that you guys
would be able to take care of yourselves without me. There were
four of you! Did Harrison have a fucking army?!"
Vlep shook his head, "I don't... no he was alone."
"Then why'd he let you live?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't fight!"
"I've never fired a gun in my..."
She belted him across the face with the back of her hand,
sending him sputtering to the ground as he held his face. He
tried to take solace in the fact that at least now his cheeks
would match.
"You're going to learn, Vlep. I'm going back to the hydrofoil
to get the major. With luck, we should be able to drag Erestyl
and Ambassador Kato to the intersection of the main highway. By
the time we get there, I want a vehicle. I want it badly, and I
don't care how get it. Understood?"
Vlep nodded as she shoved a pistol, probably the major's, into
his one free hand.
"Remember, I can kill you at any moment I choose. So a word of
advice, Vlep. Don't think. Just do it."

* * *

Tangerine rays seeped quietly through the sliding, balcony
window, its glassy surface coated with a thin, warm mist.
Outside, the hot sun bathed the Sintrivani in a saffron orange
glow as the afternoon slipped carelessly away like the shadows of
children beneath a warm, golden fog.
Spokes was baking peach and cranberry muffins, playing the
spunky apprentice to Cecil's wizened if absent-minded mentor.
Mike didn't much care about the respective roles or the protocols
associated with each. All he knew was that he was about to be
fed, and his stomach grumbled in anticipation.
Cecil seemed more interested in the dodec than the food,
however. He kept turning it end over end, feeling its edges and
especially the subtle crevices of its etching. It was in the
shape of a songbird, a robin to be more precise, and in place of
an eye and tip of a beak, there were two tiny ports of access.
Spokes looked over occasionally, watching the blind man at work.
"You making progress?"
"Found an inny and an outty."
Spokes nodded, checking the muffins' state of readiness.
"Done."
He took them out, leaving them on the counter-top to cool
while Mike watched the three-vee, its volume turned so low that
it was barely audible. The Calannans had pin-pointed the source
of the detonation to an Imperial owned sea vessel. Shortly after
the initial announcement, there had been rioting in Xin, most of
it aimed at neghrali-owned businesses, and the Imperial marine
commander had declared Xekhasmeno a red zone, temporarily closing
it off to air and ground traffic alike. Meanwhile, public
officials alternately pleaded for calm or more often demanded
explanations from the Imperial embassy. None were forthcoming,
and even the Crimson Queen's orbiting convoy initiated alert
status, temporarily refusing boarding to all but preferred
passengers.
Mike switched the box off and rose to take a peek at the
muffins. Spokes, ever protective of his alchemy, watched Mike
with a suspicious smile.
"Just another cent, Harrison."
Mike reached into the cooler and had another gulp of guava. He
sat back down beside Cecil. His old friend swiveled the cameras
back and forth from dodec to gatherer.
"Dumb."
"What?"
"We forgot to give our friend current inhibitors."
"They're not coming out of my salary," Spokes injected. The
cameras turned toward him, zooms activating with an audible hum.
Cecil smiled when he found what he was looking for.
"Good idea."
"No, Cecil. I just bought these."
"Lend to the gatherer. He needs them more than you."
"And what if he burns them out like my last pair?"
"Better them than his grey muscle."
"That's debatable."
Spokes carefully disconnected them, attaching them to Mike's
jacks. Mike watched half doe-eyed, instinctively wanting to
protect his scalp but also realizing that he had to keep his
hands well out of the way lest Spokes should make a mistake. It
made him feel small, and he smiled at his own helplessness.
"Are the muffins ready yet?"
"No."
Mike suppressed a whine, and Cecil grinned knowingly.
"Let's see if we can make some hell in that head of yours,
Michael. Go ahead and connect him."
Spokes leaned over, collecting two of the four thin cords
which curled from the dodec. Each merged with its neighbor near
the point of no return. Cecil held two for himself as Spokes
toyed with Mike's jacks, finally nodding agreeably as the
translucent image of a mechanical combination lock appeared in
front of Mike's face. From within its hazy background, Mike heard
a woman's voice: "Enter your clearance identification number."
Cecil's grin widened as his cameras studied the look running
across Mike's face. He handed Mike a flimsi. A long string of
three digit numbers glowed pink upon its transparent surface.
"Lesson number one. Learn to think in directions."
Mike began turning the imaginary dial, each thrust of his mind
sending it spinning.
"Easy now."
After a few aborted attempts, he had the skill mastered. The
dial twisted and turned as he imagined placing his hand upon it
and rotating it gently. Finally it disappeared, and Mike saw her
face, not an exact copy of the physical version, but an outline,
deep blue eyes twinkling like distant stars and blonde hair
waving back and forth in the electric static.
"Robin?"
"User's access rejected. Security action two in progress."
"Robin, it's Mike Harrison."
"...Mike Harrison is not a legitimate user." A grey field of
haze began to form between them, building like an ocean swell
and threatening to engulf him.
"I'm with Johanes. We need your help."
The static foamed, spitting like acid as it washed over him.
Then, just as suddenly, it disappeared. Mike blinked. The
illusion of her face was no longer there. Instead, he saw Spokes
fiddling with the connection, and once glance at the dodec
told him it was all over. It was smoking, a vial of acidic
chemicals released somewhere within its core.
"She was trying to fry you, dude. When she realized she
couldn't, she just fried herself."
Cecil unplugged, a smile crossing his face as their team
picture danced about the three-vee.
"Success," he drily announced. "Time to scarf."
The muffins tasted even better than Mike had imagined, and
Spokes served up bowls of sliced green apples immersed in
chilled, sweet yogurt and topped with warm caramel and honey,
finally gathering a bowl and a spare bottle of guava juice for
himself before he slipped out the door.
"Where's Spokes going?"
Cecil concentrated on his food, savoring every taste. Either
that or he was savoring the captured data. Sometimes Mike found it
hard to tell what his friend was thinking about.
"Cecil..."
"He doesn't want to be here. He's afraid of knowledge and the
danger it brings."
Mike nodded, "And you aren't?"
"When have you ever known Cecil to be scared of knowledge?"
"You went in with me, didn't you."
"It was perfect, Michael. When you told her who you were..."
he chuckled.
"What did you find out?"
"Enough. You provided an eon or more, after all. When you told
her your name, she was... perplexed. A gatherer does not acquire
such a combination. She had to think about whether or not she
wanted to let you in. For an A.I., she was very hesitant."
"She decided to fry me in a matter of seconds."
"Yes, an eternity. The recon program was able to follow her
hesitation and map logically where she looked for her decision.
There was more than enough time to copy the gyroscopic logs.
There was time to copy more." A camera lens bobbed up and down
knowingly, "If you dare to doubt..."
The image of the team picture on the three-vee was suddenly
replaced by a map of Xin. A red squiggly line zipped into the
city, dashing directly to the hotel where Mike had been dumped by
Cole. It continued to the Underway terminal, down to Xaos, and
then back up again to Vilya's flat. Then it left the city and
came back from another direction, finally darting to the
Runyaelin, and then up to the Arien Mansion along the outskirts,
before diving again off the map.
Cecil smiled, "It knows where it goes."
"Can you zoom out? I want to see where it went before it got
to Xin."
Cecil concentrated, and the city seemed to reduce in size,
becoming a tiny dot at the center of the image.
"Curious. This can't be right. It comes from the water."
"Just map it."
The image continued to encompass still greater area as the
line dived into the water from near Xekhasmeno and then darted
back again.
Mike nodded, "Okay, the point where it stops and turns around,
how far away is that from ground zero."
"The nuke?"
"Yeah."
"Less than a kilometer."
"Then that confirms it."
The image disappeared, and Cecil looked flustered.
"Confirms what?"
"Johanes is paying you to find the local branch of ISIS,
right?"
"Yes."
"Well, the information is obsolete. There is no ISIS
headquarters anymore."
"What?! Why would they blow-up their own..."
"Exactly. Johanes did it. He used me as bait and Nicholas as a
sacrifice just to make it look genuine."
Cecil tilted his head, "Explain."
"I was at Erfalas this morning. ISIS trailed me there, and
they had what I first thought was the dodec. I knew they must
have gotten it at the Tyberian Compound in Xekhasmeno. I just
didn't know it was hand delivered courtesy of the Draconian S.S."
"Hence, your clutzery when he tossed it to you."
Mike nodded, "Johanes didn't know whether or not I saw the
Imps make off with it. For all he knew, I was dead or sleeping on
the roof of some building and woke up when I heard the gun spray.
When I showed up here, he had to find out one way or another."
"And you were a dead give away."
"Yeah. I just wasn't sure he got them where it counts. Now I
am."
Cecil smiled, "And the beauty of it is that he still doesn't
know."
Mike winced.
"What?"
"Cecil, you remember that locator that your friend found in my
shoe two nights ago?"
"Affirmative."
"How did he find it?"
"Bug detector."
"You have one here?"
Cecil dropped his jaw as the phone rang, and Mike shook his
head, again disgusted with his own stupidity.

_ /|
\`o_O' Jim Vassilakos
( ) <--- ji...@ucrmath.ucr.edu
U ucsd!ucrmath!jimv (uucp)
Aachk!

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