Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1) (45 page)

SEVENTY-SEVEN

Sergeant Oliver Cross’s tank opened on automatic when something severed his connection to the agent. He disconnected from the interface and climbed out of the tank to find half a dozen support staff scurrying around the control consoles. There was a frantic tension about them as they flew around the room.

“What happened?” He barked at the room. “Why did I lose my connection?” Campbell entered the scene from his office at almost the same moment that Cross came out of his tank.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” He said with a hint of menace. Campbell walked toward Cross who dripped all over the grating that surrounded his tank. “What happened since your last orders were received?” Campbell asked, staring down the older man.

Cross sensed that Campbell wished his verbal orders to remain discrete. His eyes darted around the room to see who might be watching their exchange. All the technicians scurried around the room, intent with determining the root cause for the unwanted disruption.

He took a half step toward Campbell and lowered his voice to ensure they would not be overheard. “Sir…” He said clenching his fists. “I don’t know what happened! After our last briefing, I immediately reconnected with the agent. I waited for two hours, as ordered, but there were no signs of the assault so I entered the room with the targets. I was about to strike when I lost my connection to the agent. I assumed it was a problem with the transmission penetrating so deep underground, sir!”

Campbell showed no emotional reaction to Cross’s report. He gave him a quick nod. Cross, still standing in the white body suit, dripped beside the tank and glared at Campbell’s back as he moved away.

Campbell walked up to the group of technicians at the main control console. They were all talking and moving around each other like a small swarm of bees. “Give me a report!” He ordered loud enough to get their attention all at once. The flurry ceased as all eyes turned to him. Each one of them wondered who was going to be held accountable for the disaster that occurred at a crucial time during the mission.

Lance Dobson, a middle-aged man with light brown hair and green eyes, stood up from the main console. He looked around at his peers, who all looked right back at him. A few of the technicians took a half step away to distance themselves from the chaos and responsibility. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “There was an interruption between the operative and the agent.” He said, swallowing hard. “We’ve been unable to determine the cause, as of yet, but we’re confident we’ll have an explanation in the next fifteen minutes.”

Campbell pulled a chronometer out of his vest pocket and held it in his hand. He hefted it, feeling the mass and density of it as if he was weighing it against his options. He then glanced at the large display in the center of the room. On it there was a countdown indicating the time until Reynolds assault force engaged the target coordinates.

The timer indicated the attack would begin in less than thirty minutes. He looked back down at his chronometer. “You have five minutes.” He snipped. “Get me some answers!” Campbell walked away from the crowd and returned to his office.

The frenzy among the group went into overdrive. They checked streams of data, physical connections from the cords and wires to the console and tank. One tech even checked the water inside the tank in the vain hope that a saline imbalance had caused the interruption.

After their deadline had expired, Campbell returned from his office and walked straight up to Dobson. “What do you know?” He asked with an air of expectancy.

Dobson could not look Campbell in the eye, but he could not turn away either. He held his breath for a moment, hoping an inspired idea would pop into his head from the lack of oxygen to his brain, but he had nothing. Nothing Dobson could say would explain the malfunction.

“I’m sorry, sir.” He shuffled the papers in his hands as he muttered his pathetic apology. “We’ve performed every diagnostic we can think of. We simply have no explanation for the problem.” He let out his breath in a defeated sigh. Campbell was about to speak when one of the other techs cleared his throat. Campbell spun around in search of the interruption.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat again. “Sir? I have a theory.” The young technician, recruited right out of the Academy of Sciences, did not look old enough to be among more experienced technicians, but Campbell knew him well. His name was Chris Connors, and he was a brilliant software architect. Campbell remembered seeing his aptitude test scores and had hand-selected him to be recruited to the program.

“What is it, Connors?” Campbell asked.

Everyone in the room stared in amazement at Connors’ audacity. He was the youngest member of the team, had only been out of the academy for a few months, and already had the nerve to call attention to himself with claims of a theory that the other, more experienced members of the team would have already discounted.

Connors looked into the faces of each team member for any sign of support, but received none. He again cleared his throat and ventured forward with his proposal. “Sir, I think we’re dealing with a hacker.”

Each of his colleagues around the group rejected his theory out of hand with groans and hisses. Campbell, however, knew that since no one else had even offered a possible explanation that Connors idea was worth hearing out.

“Continue.” Campbell said with a glare to the others. His response gave Connors the courage to press on and explain his reasoning.

He took a deep breath. “We can find no physical problem with any piece of hardware between the operative and the agent.” He said gesturing to Cross, now standing in a robe next to the group. “The operative claims that he did not intentionally sever the connection, and we can find no faults with the internal network or operating system. I propose that the problem is from a source outside our control, which is why I believe we’re dealing with a hacker who has been able to penetrate our network and is causing these problems.” He finished speaking and stood there, holding onto his tablet like a security blanket.

Campbell stared into Connors eyes for a moment. He mulled over his theory to find a flaw in his reasoning. He found none, just as he expected.

“I agree.” He blurted. “Work on a solution around your theory.” He glanced up at the timer on the main display. “You have less than two minutes to regain control of the agent; otherwise it may fall into the hands of the Dissidents. Get to work!” He said to the room at large.

The whole team of technicians walked away from the tank and its various consoles and returned to their individual workstations. Connors took the lead in assigning half of the group the task to find an invasive program, and then tasked the other half with finding a solution to terminate its connection.

SEVENTY-EIGHT

While standing in the Dissident lab discussing the logistics of Jack’s idea to help the Chapels escape Reynolds’ attack, Gideon became aware of the efforts taking place in Campbell’s control room override his programming in the agent’s body.

“Excuse me, Jack,” he interrupted. “But the agent’s technical staff are about to discover my program. I believe they will succeed in disrupting my interface with the agent. I recommend restraining this body in the event I am unable to maintain control.” Gideon piloted the agent to a chair and sat down. Jack and Evangeline grabbed tubes and wires from the desks and benches nearby and bound him by the hands and feet.

“Gideon?” Jack mused. “Can you download yourself into the agent’s internal system?” Gideon again stared into space, computing the possibility of Jack’s request.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” he replied, shaking his head. “The storage capacity of the internal drive is insufficient to contain my entire program.” Jack stood up and walked around the room, mumbling to himself and searching for something.

“Can you return to the home network?” Jack asked, “Leave the body the way you came?”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Gideon replied a shake of his head, “That would be impossible. Once the technicians began searching for an invasive program, the security around the network increased. I no longer have the capacity to evacuate the Cathedral network.”

Jack’s shoulders fell. “If only there was a portable hard drive with sufficient capacity down here,” he muttered. “There has to be something…” he trailed off as he meandered about the lab, rummaging through boxes and sifting through shelves like a child searching for a hidden cache of candy.

As Jack hunted high and low for memory storage devices, Evangeline turned in the direction of her parents. They had been packing small pieces of equipment into crates while Jack and Evangeline had discussed Jack’s plan to provide the time needed for the Dissidents to escape. She stepped forward toward them.

“Do you have anything here that we can use to download Gideon?” she asked, with a hopeless pleading in her eyes. Jack’s projects were important to him. Besides, Gideon had stopped the agent from killing them all when they had been at the Agents’ utter mercy. Matthew stopped packing, looked at Elizabeth, and then turned to Evangeline.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he replied. “Our data storage is extremely limited.” His eyes were full of sincere disappointment at being unable to help his daughter. Jack continued rifling through pieces of equipment, showing each one to Elizabeth in the hopes that one of them was not crucial to their work of creating a cure for the ravaging dermatitis.

Bound in the chair, Gideon chimed in. “The assault force will be in range in the next forty-five minutes. May I make a suggestion?” The entire group stopped what they were doing and turned to listen to Gideon.

“The Leviathan is in range of both Olympus and your location. I can upload myself to the carrier, which will put me in range of your neural interface.” He turned his head to look at Jack. “I can provide you with their battle plans to facilitate the success of your escape.”

“Do it!” Jack replied. A moment later the agent’s head drooped and its body went limp in the chair. Matthew walked behind the listless figure and removed the metal plate from the back of his neck. Jack and Evangeline watched in curiosity as Matthew held up the plate. They could all see the hair-like filaments retracting inward.

              “This is how the operator interfaces with the agent,” he said, turning the agent’s chair around, showing them the empty ports behind his neck. “This interface collar is how we are able to have these bodies and interact with the world.” Matthew returned to his wife’s side at a workbench and placed the extracted interface inside a small box in one of the drawers.

Evangeline thought of Gideon’s forty-five minute warning of the Leviathan’s arrival. She knew it was time for her to leave her parents and join the handful of Dissident pilots assembling in the hangar. She turned to her parents, running into their arms and hugging them with all her strength. She willed their perfect Angel bodies to remember how much she still loved them in spite of all that had happened.

Elizabeth was unwilling to let go of her daughter again. She turned to look at Matthew who also despaired at saying goodbye.

“We can’t leave her again,” she cried. “Not like this! I can’t leave her again. Not again!” Tears streamed down her face onto Evangeline’s environmental suit. Matthew had also shed tears as he held on to his little family. In the end, Evangeline pulled away from her parents’ grip.

“No,” she said. She stood upright, resolved to fight back her own tears. “If things are going to get as bad as you say they are, then there’s no choice. You have to finish what you’ve started. You have to get out of here and keep your research going until you find a cure. Otherwise, what’s the point of all we’ve been through?”

She held out her arms and placed each hand on one of her parents’ faces. “You left me once to save my life,” she said no louder than a whisper. “Now, it’s my turn.” With a final embrace, not knowing if she would survive the battle and reunite with her parents again, she turned and walked away from them toward Jack.

She hugged him with all the remaining strength she had, pulling his head down to hers and pressing her faceplate against his.

“I love you,” she said with breathless intensity. “More than you can possibly know!”

His eyes were wet. When he was able to respond, he tried to be as optimistic as possible. “Hey,” he said with a sad smile. “This is not goodbye. I’ll be out there with you.” He was thumping his hand against his hip, indicating the interface tucked away in his pocket.

The alarms overhead began to blare and a voice announced the approaching threat. “All available pilots and combat personnel, assemble in the motor pool. This is not a drill! All other personnel bring vital equipment and technical personnel to the South hangar bay for loading onto freighters.”

Men and women in environmental suits spilled into the lab and began carrying out the larger pieces of equipment. A young woman dangling a keycard from a thin chain approached the Chapels. Matthew raised his arm and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He turned her to face Evangeline and Jack.

“This is Emma. She’ll guide you up to the hangar.”

Emma gave them a scared smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, but we have to hurry.” She put her hand around Evangeline’s arm and began tugging her toward the airlock.

The other suited men and women surrounded the stasis tanks and began disconnecting the monitoring equipment. Evangeline gave her parents one last look, waved goodbye, and ran out the door with Jack and Emma. She left hand-in-hand with her husband, heading for the motor pool to join Kevin and Felicia.

Jack and Evangeline did not notice the four armed men in environmental suits who had entered through the airlock behind Emma before forming a circle around the restrained agent. They did not hear the squeals of the metal chair as one of them dragged it across the floor and shoved into a corner. They did not feel the gunshots press against the ears of the technicians behind the sealed airlock door. They did not smell the acrid smoke of gunpowder wafting like a cloud over the impromptu execution squad, nor did they see the slumped body of the agent, blood dripping from the gaping wound in his head down onto the floor.

The plan was for Jack to go as far as the motor pool and find a safe room where he could put on his neural interface and coordinate the Dissident defenses with Gideon on the Leviathan.

In a way, Jack felt like he was back at home, designing new gaming scenarios for the arena. With a connection established on board the Leviathan, Jack would be able to see both sides of the battle in real time and adjust the Dissident defensive strategy based on the Reynolds’ attack patterns. This was not a game, however; real lives would be at stake. Not just his and Evangeline’s, nor the Dissident forces protecting the facility. Not even Reynolds’ soldiers aboard the Leviathan or the hundreds of people residing in the immediate area. Giving Matthew and Elizabeth the chance to escape and preserve all their research would impact everyone who lived in Olympus and well as the LTZ. Not to mention the future generations that could fall victim to the mysterious disease. Indeed, the stakes of this game were weightier than any ever played in recent history.

Emma, wearing a medic’s uniform under her environmental suit, escorted Jack and Evangeline to the nearest working lift that carried them up to the top level and the motor pool. As the lift slowly ascended, they changed out of their environmental suits and back into their regular clothing, which they had snatched as they exited the lab airlock. While they changed, Kevin briefed Evangeline over her communicator with updates about the oncoming threat and their defense plan. All the while, she could not help but think about the lift carrying her further and further away from half of her family.

Once the lift arrived at the uppermost level, Emma directed Jack to an old security bunker fortified to withstand the impact of a nuclear missile. It was the safest room for him to be in during the assault.

He and Evangeline shared one final, lingering kiss before she said goodbye in the bunker. Her own destination was the locker room to change into a flight suit. When she stepped into the only available suit, she groaned as she realized it was several sizes too big.

As she tightened each strap and harness, she wondered if she was embarking on her final mission. She viewed her decision to join the Dissidents fight against the Olympic conquest as her only real contribution to the Human race. Once fully dressed in her flight suit, she left the locker room and walked toward the TRTVs standing in a row on the far side of the hangar.

Evangeline found Kevin waiting for her next to his TRTV, the very same one from his days when he was her instructor. His disappearance, along with the loss of his TRTV, was still a mystery around the base on Olympus. She grinned to herself now that she knew all the answers the puzzle.

Evangeline approached Kevin’s machine and saw the familiar “Big Brother” decal stenciled on the side in faded, white paint. The moniker was a genuine representation of how he treated every trainee and most of the other pilots. He had a tendency to take every one of them under his wing. Kevin did not just teach them how to pilot a TRTV, but he became a friend and surrogate family until they graduated and received their assignment to a carrier for their first active duty. Evangeline remembered the uphill battle she faced in the early days of her training, all the ostracism she endured over her parents’ disgrace. Kevin’s firm but kind hand had gotten her through it.

“Okay, B.B,” she called out. “Where do you want me?”

Kevin gave her a mischievous grin, which made her rethink her decision to join the counter-attack for a moment.

“Well,” he said with a slight chuckle, “I think we’ll let you try out the Seraphim!” He walked around his TRTV and disappeared behind the legs. Evangeline followed, intrigued by his use of humor in their situation.

“What’s the joke?” she asked as she made her way to the other side of his vehicle. She stopped short at the site before her.

It was a TRTV all right, but it was different from the three standard classes she had trained on: Single Pilot, Dual Pilot for initial training, and Dual Pilot Heavy Assault Types, also known as HATs. Kevin appreciated her shock with another low chuckle.

“This beauty was designed by a Dissident sympathizer when he used to work for an Olympic defense contractor. He came to us with the designs when he understood what the Quorum planned to use it for.”

Evangeline walked around the Seraphim in a slow circle, touching its armor plating everywhere she could reach. It was in perfect condition, not a single scratch anywhere on its surface. She examined its armaments and battle components, mentally tallying the similarities between it and her old TRTV.

“What
was
it intended for?” she asked, though in her gut she felt she already knew the answer.

“To hunt down and exterminate us!” Kevin said with a tone that was more severe than Evangeline had ever heard speak before.

“Where is he now? The designer, I mean?” she asked, wondering if he was still alive.

“He’s off-world,” Kevin answered. “He had the project put on hold while he smuggled out the parts, piece by piece, and reassembled them here. He’s now trying to make another one with the limited resources we have.” She listened to his brief answers as she continued her evaluation of the new vehicle.