Final Battle (22 page)

Hunt the hunter.

When I realized what that meant, I tried to sit bolt upright.

It didn't work. I was still too weak, especially with the weight of the lead belt around my waist. I was only able to roll over and look at the clock. Eleven thirty at night.

I'd slept nearly three hours straight, my longest stretch in months.

Hunt the hunter. Turn his weapon against him.

I was about to call out to Dad in our shared living area, but then I remembered. Dad had just left in the shuttle to pick up the rest of the cargo. Mom was most likely still in the lab.

But there was still plenty of time to find Rawling. He always tended to work late, so with luck, he'd still be in his office.

“Rawling!” I called out frantically.

It had been a struggle to get into my jumpsuit by myself, but at least with all the weight I'd lost in the body cast, my clothing was so loose it easily fit over the lead belt.

Rawling looked up from his desk as I rolled in. He had been writing on a pad of paper. “I expected you to sleep through the night.”

“I think I know how to find him,” I answered. “Use his weapon against him.”

“Slow down. Him?”

“The person we think broke into the dome. The person I think is Luke Daab. Who put a virus in the computer software. Who stole the triggers we need to launch our defense system against the Manchurian invasion. That him. Let's use his weapon against him.”

Rawling gave me a smile. “Again. Slow down. His weapon?”

“Whatever device he's been using to activate the implant in my spinal column.”

Rawling set his pen down. “How do you know it's the same person?”

“I've had those headaches all through the journey here,” I explained quickly.

Rawling scratched his head, looking dubious.

“Remote activation technology is great,” I continued, trying to follow my own reasoning, “but the most range I've heard of is 10,000 miles. It couldn't be someone from Earth, then, or someone from Mars. It had to be someone traveling with the fleet. But everyone who was part of the fleet was cleared by security checks. So it has to be the one person who hitchhiked along and landed his own space shuttle. That person didn't go through security clearance; I can guarantee you that.”

An image flashed through my mind. Of my robot going up to the man in the space suit. Of the man pulling his arm out of his space-suit sleeve.

“And, Rawling,” I finished, “when this guy entered the dome, he reached inside his space suit. It had to be for the remote. He wanted a headache to shut me and my robot control down. That tells me he's very familiar with the situation around here.”

Rawling spun around in his chair a few times. It was a habit he had when he was thinking. I'd learned not to interrupt.

“I'll give you this,” he said slowly. “Your hitchhiker theory was right. Your dad just radioed me from orbit. The unmanned spaceship that was carrying the surface-to-space missile system has marks on the outer hull where a space shuttle docked. And a close inspection of the interior showed that someone had been living in it. Which explains how the triggers to the missile system were stolen before they even reached Mars.”

“So you'll agree it's possible the same person was zapping the implant in my spinal cord.”

“Say I do agree … ,” he began.

“Then we track him,” I said, “by scanning for whatever wave technology his remote uses. I'm guessing X-ray. That's what we use for robot control. Find the frequency that triggers my implant, and then we can follow the same frequency right to its source. He'll never know we're looking for him, right up to the second we get him.”

Rawling spun in his chair some more. After a few minutes he stared at me, his jaw set. “It's going to hurt you.”

“So will a Manchurian fleet that lands when we don't have missiles to scare them away.”

“We'll do it then,” Rawling said.

“No, you won't.” It was a voice behind us.

I turned just in time to see a face I recognized. Luke Daab's.

He held a neuron gun pointed at Rawling's head. If set on stun, the voltage of just one neuron gun could cripple him with the pain of an electrical jolt through the nerve pathways of his body. Although it didn't do permanent damage, it would temporarily paralyze his muscles and render him unconscious. But if on a different setting … I'd never seen those results, and I didn't want to.

Without warning, Daab pulled the trigger.

Rawling screamed briefly, then fell straight back over his chair. He twitched once on the floor, then made no movement at all.

“Hello, Tyce,” Luke said. “So glad we could finally get together again.”

CHAPTER 21

Luke Daab shut the door to Rawling's office and locked it. Keeping the neuron gun trained at my head, he moved to Rawling's desk and ripped the computer wires loose. He did the same with the phone line.

I was trapped.

“Just in case you had thoughts of trying to reach anyone when I left,” Daab said casually. “I have no intention of letting you stop me ever again.”

He was still as redheaded, mousy, and skinny as ever. The only change seemed to be that his beach-ball belly was a bit larger.

I couldn't speak. Was Rawling unconscious … or dead?

“Cat got your tongue?” Daab asked with a slight, twisted smile and that nervous laugh of his. He yanked off my wrist buzzer and then pulled a small device from his pocket. He dangled the device just out of my reach. “Or is it a headache?”

I groaned. I didn't want him to realize that the lead wrap was shielding me from his remote. “Why?” I said between clenched teeth. Although I didn't have a headache, I still felt enough anguish that I didn't have to act out any pain.

Luke moved around behind my wheelchair. He spoke to my back. “Why the implant? Or why am I here?”

My world tilted. He had lifted the handles of my wheelchair. He gave a violent jerk, and I tumbled helplessly forward. My elbows crashed into the floor. I groaned again and slowly rolled over.

Daab sat in my wheelchair, smiling down on me. “I'm here in this office because you and Rawling have suddenly become a danger. This is a little earlier than I had planned to set everything in motion, but fortunately all the pieces are in place.”

I said nothing.

“Why am I here on Mars?” he asked. “Oh, you've already figured that out. To get the dome ready for my friends. You're going to be a big help to me, Tyce. I've always known you were smart, but listening in on your conversations with Rawling confirmed it for me.”

His catlike smile widened. “Oh yes, the first thing I did once I got inside was plant a simple bug under Rawling's desk. I wanted to know what was happening. It was great entertainment, listening to how you came to your conclusions. I was amazed at how accurate they were. That only proves it was a good choice to enlist you for our side.”

“Never help,” I said between clenched teeth. I tried to rise.

Daab stood from the wheelchair and kicked me back onto the floor. I was surprised at how strong a skinny guy like him could be.

As he turned around, I quickly shifted the lead belt, lifting it slightly upward. I couldn't depend on him announcing when he shut off the pain activator. I didn't want him to find out I had a shield, or he'd take away my only protection.

Immediately pain flooded my head. This time my groan of agony was real.

Daab sat back in the wheelchair, smiled, and dangled the remote again. “So far, on a scale of 1 to 10, I've kept this down to 4. Today in the exercise room, I raised it to six. There's still a lot higher pain ahead for you. Unless you cooperate.” He hit the remote. “Feel better now?”

The pain stopped. I let out a big sigh of relief.

“Perhaps you can concentrate now,” Daab said. “So listen closely. Very soon, the only people living under the dome will be you, me, and all the other kids with robot-control capabilities. I know you are considered their leader. And you're going to make sure they continue assembling the generators so that everything is ready by the time Dr. Jordan and my other Terrataker and Manchurian friends arrive. If you don't help, the headaches will return—and you'll wish you were dead.”

I remembered how bad it was in the exercise room, thinking that I would have begged to have the pain end.

“The fleet is two months away,” I said. “I can't keep 50 kids from finding a way to stop you.”

“I won't be in the dome.” He sneered. “I'll be orbiting safely in space while I monitor the progress of the generator assembly. That's why you'll be in charge. And if you don't help, I'll shuttle back down once a week to execute kids until they finally get the message I'm serious.”

Daab looked at his watch, as if it weren't a big deal to talk about killing people in cold blood. “Eleven forty-five. Good, all the robot-control kids should now be asleep in their nice little airtight, oxygen-filled dorm. When they wake up, they'll have the whole planet to themselves. Except, of course, for you and me.”

Daab stood again, moved to the wall, and took down one of the two emergency oxygen tubes from beside a fire extinguisher. He dropped it on the floor in front of my face. “Ten minutes, give or take,” he said. “Then it will do you a lot of good to wear this until the oxygen runs out.”

He moved back to the wall and grabbed the other oxygen tube for himself. “I guess from your point of view it's a shame that Rawling didn't pay closer attention to those huge tanks labeled oxygen. You know, the ones that you thought were explosive devices?”

Daab kicked Rawling, who had not yet moved. Then Daab made himself comfortable again in my wheelchair. “I can give you the whole story later, of course, but here's the short of it. As you know, the upper levels of the World United Federation are riddled with Manchurian supporters. So it was very simple for them to arrange the emergency backup system. Seal the dorm. Add those oxygen tanks. No one questioned it. Only the tanks don't have oxygen. They hold a highly poisonous gas. The robot-control kids are safe, but all the adults will be dead as soon as I hook the tanks up to the ventilation system.”

He glanced one more time at his watch. “Like I said, 10 minutes. Just before midnight. Make sure your oxygen mask is on. I'll have all the adults dead and the poisonous gas cleared before your supply runs out.”

He began to roll the chair around me. “Nearly forgot.” He looked down at me and giggled. “Can't leave you there on the floor to stop me now, can I?”

I didn't see his fingers activate the controls on the remote, but again a grenade went off in my brain. I screamed.

“That's a seven,” he said harshly. “Enjoy it. I'll end your pain when I've released the gas. That will be your warning to put on your oxygen mask.”

With that, he rolled to the door in my wheelchair, opened the door without rising, and cackled as he scooted out of Rawling's office.

CHAPTER 22

Ten minutes.

I could hardly move my arms, the pain was so intense. My fingers shook as I grabbed that lead belt. Twice my hands lost their grip. The third time, I managed to push it down and the shield blocked the transmission from the remote.

My head filled with blessed silence.

Ten minutes
, I thought in agony.

I crawled to Rawling, dragging my oxygen tube. If he was alive, he was helpless, unable to protect himself.

I put my ear up to his mouth and heard breathing. I slipped the oxygen mask over his head and activated the tube. All of this had probably taken 30 seconds.

Now what?

Hunt the hunter.

The words of my dream came back with crystal clarity. Words that might save not only my life, but everyone's under the dome.

I was on the floor, close to the desk. Reaching up, I grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled myself off the floor. Leaning against the desk, I could stand.

Any other time, I would have shouted with joy. My legs, weak as they were, much as I needed the desk, still supported me! It truly was a miracle!

I shuffled around the desk to the closest wall. Keeping one hand on the desk, I reached to the wall with my other hand and pulled down a large, framed print of a sunset on Earth. I smashed the middle of it against the corner edge of the desk. Glass shattered. Now I had an empty frame.

Nine minutes.

I turned the frame on its side. The top of the frame was now waist-high to me. With the bottom of it against the floor, I held it beside me and leaned on it.

Then I took the first baby step of my life.

This was no time to celebrate. I was wobbly and felt like I would fall any second. But if I did, how could I get up without crawling back to the desk? And that would waste too many precious seconds.

The phrase of the dream came back to me again, making me feel stronger:
Hunt the hunter.