GEN13 - Version 2.0 (20 page)

The only light came from rows of fluorescent fixtures overhead, which cast multiple shadows of Ivana, all of which changed size and shape as she walked past. Apart from the ethereal, two-dimensional images of herself, Ivana was alone.

It was only then that Ivana let her icy demeanor slip a little, betraying the shadow of doubt that even she was beginning to feel. Her doubts weren’t about whether her plan would succeed. She had spent far too many hours considering and planning for all of the potential pitfalls for anything to go wrong now. With Gen
¹³
imprisoned and powerless, there was no one who could stop Ivana from initiating the first phase of the plan. And with her major political enemies dead, there was no one who could stand in the way of the second phase, either.

No, the doubts that were slowly creeping into her mind were of a different kind. Until a few minutes ago, despite the countless hours spent developing her scheme, Ivana had never shared the plan with another living being. The secrecy was a necessity, to ensure security, but it also meant that there had never been anyone to question the means she was using to reach her ends. And Ivana had never been particularly in the habit of questioning herself.

Seeing the plan through her captives’ eyes had raised those issues, though. Ivana didn’t much care what Gen
¹³
thought; they were nothing but a bunch of stupid kids. However, she respected Lynch. For as long as they’d known each other, Lynch had always been far too much of a boy scout for Ivana’s taste. It was his greatest failing, in her view. But despite that, Lynch’s long experience and icy resolve had always left her impressed. For that reason, Ivana never turned a completely blind eye toward Lynch’s opinion, even if (as was frequently the case) she ended up dismissing it with only a moment’s consideration.

Lynch had seen Ivana do any manner of unpleasant things over the years, and he’d never been shy about letting her know when her actions didn’t match up to his personal, high-handed standard of morality. Yet, she could

tell from Lynch’s manner that this time was different. To his way of thinking, this time, Ivana had crossed a line.

Was it true? Had she raised the stakes too far this time?

To be honest, the question had never crossed her mind before. It wasn’t as though she had begun with the idea of starting a World War. At first, Ivana’s thought had been merely to create a generation of secret gen-actives who could be useful in implementing any number of her planned operations. If secrecy demanded terminating the technicians who had assisted her in the process, well, that was simply the cost of doing business. And if some shortsighted politicians were going to stand in the way of her goals, then it was easy enough to eliminate them as well. A few more corpses added to Ivana’s body count weren’t about to cause her to lose any sleep.

Things had progressed from there. In retrospect, Ivana could see the hundreds of small steps that had escalated to the point where, when she realized that she needed a truly global threat for Gen
¹⁴
to overcome, a nuclear war seemed like the most reasonable option. Since Ivana fully expected Gen
¹⁴
to prevent the war, the potential risk appeared to be minimal. However, Ivana had never stopped to think about the massive loss of life that the missile would cause on the “other side,” even if her operatives succeeded in pre-empting any retaliation. The casualties had been nothing more than a vague abstraction, half a world away.

Until now.

For the first time, Ivana felt heavy with the prospect of so much blood on her hands. Lynch had been wrong about Ivana having no conscience. She merely subscribed to a different system of values than he did. Ivana’s conscience most certainly existed, and it was active now. It nagged at her, asking whether she had it in her to carry through with her plans... and, equally important, whether she should.

As Ivana approached the command center that ran the complex, she weighed the ultimate benefits of the operation against its losses. The fact was (Ivana told herself) that she wasn’t just doing this for herself. This country— the world, for that matter—suffered from a lack of strong leadership and discipline. Ivana had studied the people in power, the select few who ran the world, with a scientist’s eye. She had observed some of them up close and others from a distance, but without exception, what Ivana found among them did not particularly impress her. It was painfully clear to her that someone needed to step in and set things on track. So far, she had failed to find anyone as qualified to do that as herself.

True, achieving those goals came with a price. Lives— many lives—would be lost. But, Ivana felt, anyone who looked at the situation objectively would have to label that region of the world as a powder keg. With all of the wars, factions, and in-fighting that erupted there on a daily basis, how many of those people could be reasonably expected to fill out their natural lifespans anyway?

Looking at it that way made the answer obvious. Yes, thousands would die. But they would be giving their lives in the service of a greater cause—a cause that would benefit billions. When you set it in context, the price was well within the parameters of what a military commander would term “acceptable losses.”

Ivana held her head high as she reached the security checkpoint outside the command center. She waited for the automated lasers to probe her retinal patterns and confirm her identity.

Only one issue remained in Ivana’s mind: Could she bear the weight of so many deaths on her conscience? Could she live with herself, knowing that she’d ended so many lives?

As the door slid open to admit her, Ivana knew that there was only one possible answer:

She had to.

She owed it to the world.

“I thought she’d never leave,” Bobby remarked dryly.

“So . . . now what?” Roxy asked.

It was a reasonable question. Ivana had gone, but the video camera continued to keep track of them—assuming, of course, that anybody was bothering to watch the video feed at this point. They were still hanging from the wall by metal restraints. Their bonds continued to cancel out the effects of their gen-factors, leaving them powerless. No one else knew where they were (for that matter, they didn’t even know themselves), so there wasn’t going to be any back-up team swooping in to the rescue. And no one outside this cell suspected just how precariously the world was teetering on the brink of nuclear annihilation— or, perhaps even worse, “salvation” at the hands of Ivana Baiul.

Things didn’t look good.

Yet, it was a mark of Gen
¹³
’s determination that, even with the odds stacked so heavily against them, none of the heroes had resigned themselves to losing. None of them had given up. They knew they had to stop Ivana. They just didn’t know how.

All eyes turned to Lynch.

The team’s mentor studied his young proteges thoughtfully. “All of you, try using your powers for a minute.”

“But, these chains ...,” Grunge protested.

“Try anyway,” Lynch said.

None of them really saw much point to Lynch’s order. Each of them had already tried on his or her own, without success. But they knew enough not to question Lynch’s orders, and besides, it looked like he had some kind of plan in mind. So they gave it a try.

Once again, Roxy strained to rise barely an inch or so into the air.

Bobby conjured up nothing more than a few sparks from his fingertips.

Kat pulled her bonds taut, but only caused them to creak a little before she had to release the pressure with a grunt.

Patches of Grunge’s skin started to take on the color of the wall behind him before fading back to normal.

A slight breeze rose up around Sarah, but it was hardly enough to disturb the dust beneath her feet.

Lynch nodded. “Perfect,” he said.

“Huh?” Kat said. The others looked equally confused. Compared to their usual power levels, their current performance struck them as kind of lame. It wasn’t as though Lynch had a habit of expecting less from them than they did themselves. Usually, he was the one who was constantly pushing them beyond their limits. How could Lynch possibly consider such pathetic results “perfect?” He read the question on their puzzled faces.

“Ivana knows more about you kids and your powers than almost anyone else on Earth,” Lynch explained. “Odds are, she’s calibrated these dampeners to each of your individual power levels.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Grunge asked.

“In this case, yes,” said Lynch. “Remember, Ivana hasn’t had the chance to monitor you closely since you broke out of her Project Genesis facility. That was a long time ago. Any more recent information would only be an estimate based on field observations.”

Kat’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! She’s got loads of data on us, but it’s all from when we first went gen-active. We’ve gotten stronger since then.”

“Right. By exercising your abilities, and through the training I’ve given you, your power and control have increased since then. Not tremendously, but enough to make a difference.”

“That’s why we can manifest our abilities slightly, even with the dampeners,” said Sarah, catching on.

“Fat lotta good that does us,” Grunge said. “So we’re gonna be all like, ‘C’mere, Ivana, so I can singe your eyebrow?’ ”

“I had a more effective plan in mind,” said Lynch. “Unfortunately, Ivana had Gen
¹⁴
confiscate my lockpicks when I was captured. So we’ll just have to make do with the materials at hand.”

Bobby looked around, stumped. “ ‘Materials at hand?’ ” he wondered aloud. “What materials at hand?”

“Step one is to buy ourselves a little privacy. We have to eliminate that camera,” Lynch said. He pointed at the thin wire that led from the camera into the wall. “Roxanne, you need to focus your power on that cable. Make it heavy enough to pull itself loose from the camera.”

Roxy looked up at the wire. Lynch was right. It wouldn’t take that much additional weight to rip it out. Ordinarily, it would take about as much effort as blinking. Under the circumstances, though, the thing that made it tricky was the distance. The camera was clear across the cell. With her powers inhibited, projecting that far wouldn’t be easy.

“I’ll try,” she said.

“Trying isn’t enough,” Lynch replied. “You have to
do
it.” ’

Roxy nodded. She closed her eyes to minimize the distractions. She imagined the wire before her. With a deep breath, Roxy focused her thoughts.

Nothing happened.

Roxy’s brow furrowed. She concentrated harder, focusing on a single point in the middle of the wire.

Still nothing.

Then, without warning, the wire seemed to give the faintest twitch.

Roxy gritted her teeth and poured it on. Under normal circumstances, working this hard would make a building collapse.

Slowly—painfully slowly—the wire lost its slack. Little by little, the midpoint of the wire began to move. It descended, pulling itself downward into the shape of a V.

Roxy held her breath. Her face reddened with the effort.

Suddenly, with a small burst of sparks, the wire tore free. The red light on the camera went out.

The team erupted into cheers. “All right!” “Nice one!”

Roxy grinned, sweating and catching her breath.

Lynch’s voice broke off the festivities. “We’re not done yet,” he said. “Even if no one is actively monitoring the feed from that camera, they’re bound to notice the lost signal before long. They may rush the room right away, or they may wait a bit before going in blind. But either way, we don’t have much time. Grunge!”

“Yo!”

“You’re going to be my lockpick.”

“Huh?”    '

“Absorb the molecular structure of your restraints. I need you to turn two fingers into metal rods thin enough to fit in these locks and long enough to reach Kat’s manacles.”

Grunge looked across Lynch at Kat. She was only about four or five feet away, but it might as well have been a mile. “You’re kidding me,” he said.

Lynch didn’t have to say anything in reply. His glare spoke volumes. It said that he wasn’t kidding. It said that Lynch had neither the time nor the patience for Grunge’s nonsense. And most of all, it said,
Do it now!

So Grunge did.

Or he tried, anyway.

Just as he had seen Roxy do before him, Grunge took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He held out his left hand, the one closest to Kat, stretching as far in her direction as the restraints would allow. He directed his attention toward that hand, and at the metal restraint that circled his wrist. He concentrated, trying hard to force the change.

At first, nothing happened.

The others stared, watching for some telltale shift in the color or texture of Grunge’s skin that would signal the process beginning.

His fingertips started to shine. The room’s fluorescent light glinted off his fingers as they began to take on a smooth, reflective veneer. Grunge’s fingers began to narrow ...

... and he lost it.

The moment was broken. Grunge panted for breath as his hand instantly reverted to its normal form.

Grunge shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I tried. But it’s just too much. I can’t...”

“You
have
to,” Lynch said. The tone of his voice left no room for question or debate.

Grunge glanced over into Lynch’s cold, unflinching stare, then sheepishly looked away. He looked around toward his friends for support, but found only their pleading eyes.

Bobby spoke quietly from beside him. “Listen, Gee,” Bobby said, “you’ve gotta do this. You’re our only shot at getting out of here. Without you, we’re toast.”

“Dude,” Grunge replied, without looking at him, “I tried. I don’t wanna let you guys down. But what can I do? It’s impossible.”

“Nah,” Bobby said, in a tone that was lighter than his actual mood, “it’s not impossible. It’s really, really hard, that’s all. But it’s not impossible. The Grunge-man can do it. You’re not gonna let Ivana’s toys stop you. You da man, right? You can do this. Hey, after all...

“... all it takes is will power.”

Will power.