Involuntary Control (Gray Spear Society) (41 page)

He arrived at the bottom. Through a doorway he saw a cavernous space the size of a warehouse. It was mostly dark except for pools of light sent from high above. Men in white lab coats moved through the dimness, while guards stood and watched.

Several people rushed over to attend to the injured man.

"He tripped and fell." Smythe shrugged.

Maintaining an expression of concern, he worked his way around the clot of people. Then he calmly proceeded into the great room beyond.

The floor was smooth, polished bedrock. Huge pillars and beams supported the high ceiling. There was a lot of space, and most of it was empty.
Room to expand,
Smythe thought. He instinctively drifted from shadow to shadow.

Small wooden structures were scattered around. They looked like tiny, unpainted houses, each just large enough for a room or two. Electronic panels and wires decorated the exterior of each house. They seemed to be test chambers of some kind. One emitted a buzzing noise.

There were also cages big enough to hold a man. Two were occupied, and Smythe recognized junior members of General Clark's team. The Army men wore hospital gowns. Bloody bandages covered the backs of their necks. They had exhausted expressions and stared at nothing in particular. There was room enough to sit, but they stood motionless instead. A disinterested guard watched them.
Looks like General Clark got more than he bargained for,
Smythe thought.

He spotted General Clark himself standing under one of the spotlights. His eyes seemed as lifeless as those of a mannequin. His jaw was slack, and he swayed back and forth on his feet. He was so tired he could barely stand.

A scientist stood nearby. He was using pliers to hold a piece of copper pipe over a torch.

After a minute the scientist held up the pipe and spoke a few words. Clark grabbed it firmly with his left hand. There was no reaction on his face even though he had to be in excruciating pain. The scientist took the pipe back and placed it on a workbench.

That explains why some of the victims have burned hands,
Smythe thought.
It's a test of compliance. The scientists are making sure the mind control is working.

The scientist asked questions and took notes on a clipboard. Clark responded with short, flat answers. Eventually, the scientist walked off, and Clark followed like a pet on a leash.

Movement elsewhere caught Smythe's attention. Two guards were helping a man out of one of the small, wooden chambers. It was Aaron! Like the rest of the implant victims, Aaron wore a gown and had a bandage on his neck. The sight of it made Smythe physically ill. For some reason Aaron's shoulder was also wrapped in bandages. At least he was still alive.

He was having great difficulty keeping his feet under him. Without support from the guards, Aaron would've fallen on his face. His head rolled from side to side, and he was mumbling to himself. He seemed completely disoriented.

Damn!
Smythe thought.
Just hold on, Aaron. Be strong for another hour. When night falls, it will be our time.

Smythe went to the darkest, emptiest corner of the room and crouched in the shadows.

* * *

Marina was flying as low and fast as she dared. She was trying to get comfortable with her new helicopter. Corn fields sped beneath her, so close she could almost reach out and touch the stalks.

The AH-3X wasn't for amateur pilots. It was as agile as a hummingbird and as twitchy as an amphetamine junkie. One nudge of the flight stick could throw it into a stomach churning dive or a dizzying spin. According to the manual, she could even perform vertical loops, but she hadn't tried that yet. There were some things a helicopter simply wasn't supposed to do.

Handling the flight controls wasn't her main concern though. She expected to have a lot more difficulty with the weapons systems. Everything was state-of-the-art and therefore needlessly complicated. While reading the manual she had focused on the systems she was most likely to use, and she had ignored the rest. Regardless, she was sure she would press the wrong button at some point during the coming battle. There were too many poorly labeled choices. Fighting at night wouldn't help her either.

She glanced at the setting sun. Her personal training session was almost over, whether she was ready or not.

She looked forward again. A tree was directly ahead, and she pulled up barely in time. Leaves slapped the bottom of the cockpit.

She let out a shuddering sigh.

* * *

Aaron was trapped in a nightmare. He was sitting in a chair and being forced to watch a video screen. Brightly colored, geometric images flashed in rapid succession. Straps held his arms and legs, but they weren't necessary. His whole body was so rigid he could barely blink. The enemy had given him some kind of paralyzing drug.

He could sense the implant crawling through his mind like an insect. It was tickling the nerves in his brain to see what would happen. Bursts of old memories and intense sensations kept tormenting Aaron. It was worse than physical torture because it was happening inside his head. There was no way to ignore it.

He kept searching for a corner of his mind where he could be safe. Inevitably, the implant would chase him out of his inner hiding place. Each battle drained more of Aaron's mental strength, and soon, he would have none left. Defeat seemed inevitable, and the price would be his soul.

He tried to scream but no sound came out.

* * *

Smythe checked his watch. The time had come for the madness to end.

He took his phone out of his sleeve and turned it on. When the display powered up, he saw there was no cell signal. He had to get out of the underground chamber.

He walked back towards the one doorway. Guards flanked it on either side, and he nodded to them.

"I need a cigarette," Smythe said. "Back in a minute."

The guards didn't seem interested in his explanation.

He ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. When he reached the top, he propped open the steel door but didn't go outside. The signal strength was much better up here. He called Marina.

She answered quickly, "You found Aaron?"

"Yes," he said. "He's in rough shape but alive. I need that attack helicopter right now."

"On my way. Four minutes."

"Look for a very small, yellow building at the north-east corner of the base. We're underground, beneath it. Try not to blow us up."

"Norbert is stationed behind the tree line outside the base," she said. "If you head due west, you should run right into him. He'll help you."

"OK." He tried to picture the layout of the base in his mind. "I have to go. I'll turn my phone off until you get here. Bye."

He turned off his phone and jogged back down the stairs.

* * *

General Doolittle sat behind his desk in his office. General Clark and his three junior officers stood at attention in the center of the room. They were wearing their Army uniforms again. Except for bandages on their necks, they didn't look too bad. Clark had a burned hand, but it would heal and leave an interesting scar. The other officers were essentially uninjured.

"Here are your orders," Doolittle said. "Go home. Relax. Rest for a few days. Gradually resume living your lives as if nothing had happened here. If anybody asks, your visit to Springfield was pleasant and uneventful. Never talk about mind control technology under any circumstances. Never mention my name. Never tell the truth about what I did to you. You will receive new orders from me at a later date. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Clark and his men responded in dull voices.

They had vacant, sleepy expressions, but Doolittle knew that effect would wear off. After a period of recuperation, the men would seem almost normal. Their friends and family would never realize that anything had changed.

Doolittle's phone rang, and he answered it.

"Sir!" an excited voice said. "One of our outposts just spotted a helicopter flying straight towards the base. It's a military aircraft. Stealth capability."

"Just one?" Doolittle said.

"As far as we know, but it appeared to be armed with rockets."

"Still, a single chopper isn't much of a threat. Contact the pilot. If he doesn't have a good explanation, shoot him down. Keep me advised as the situation evolves."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

Bethany sat in her chair and stared at her computer monitor. Leanna stood behind her with a hand on Bethany's shoulder.

"Go on," Leanna said.

Bethany hesitated. "But He'll just say no."

"He told Norbert He's our friend. We'll see if that's true."

Bethany nodded. She opened a browser window and went to the secret forum used by the Gray Spear Society.

She typed, "hck112358: zero, are you there?"

The response was immediate. "zero: yes."

"hck112358: aaron is in big trouble."

"zero: it's worse than you think. marina and smythe will die trying to rescue him. they have no chance."

Bethany's breath caught in her throat. "hck112358: these are my friends! i've never had real friends before. i don't want them to die. are you going to help them?"

"zero: every direct intervention is a victory for My enemies."

"hck112358: You'll sacrifice three of Your best soldiers instead? You'll let doolittle continue to turn innocent people into hopeless slaves? Your enemies win either way."

"zero: let Me explain in different terms. the universe is protected by a firewall. whenever I reach through the firewall, it becomes damaged. this creates greater opportunities for My enemies in the future."

"hck112358: sounds like a crappy firewall."

"zero: it has served Me well enough for fourteen billion years."

Bethany had an idea. "hck112358: leanna and i know a lot about firewalls. we've designed many of them. some people say we're the best computer security experts on earth."

"zero: you are."

"hck112358: if you rescue our friends, we'll help you fix your firewall." She glanced at Leanna.

God was silent for a moment. "zero: it's an interesting proposal."

"hck112358: do we have a deal?"

"zero: this is not a small task. to work on the universal firewall, you'll first have to learn the fundamental mathematical structures that underlie your entire reality. the veils will be lifted from your eyes until you begin to perceive the world as I do. you'll encounter truths so profound they could drive you insane."

"hck112358: we're not afraid of the truth." Bethany spoke out loud, "Not at all."

"zero: so be it." The window closed.

Bethany looked up at her sister.

"You saved our friends!" Leanna grinned.

"But I also committed us to a huge project," Bethany said.

"I don't mind. Upgrading the universe sounds like fun."

* * *

Marina's heart was pounding. It was dark outside, but her helmet was equipped with night vision goggles. The terrain below appeared as a ghostly black and white image. Even though some of the details were fuzzy, she could see well enough to fly and fight.

The secret military base was directly ahead in the distance. She expected the enemy was already trying to call her on the radio, but she had turned that system off. She didn't want the distraction.

Might as well get started,
she thought.

She looked down at the weapons panel, and she immediately knew something was very wrong. All the lights were off except for three solitary buttons. She played with the switches, but the systems refused to come back to life. Her weapons were useless.

Panic tightened her throat. Aaron and Smythe would die, and she was helpless to stop it. She stomped on the floor and growled in frustration.
I read the damn manual. What did I do wrong?
She sniffled. Her eyes stung but she wouldn't let herself cry.

She took another look at the three remaining buttons that still appeared active. She realized she had never seen them before. Somehow, they had appeared on the panel in the last few minutes. They were labeled, "sword," "shield," and "hammer." She was certain the operations manual hadn't mentioned them. They glowed with a soft, white light that seemed a little unnatural.

Her panic started to subside. Perhaps, a Friend was looking out for her.

She used the crosshairs in her helmet to aim at a tall tower on the base. Hesitantly, she pressed the "sword" button. A bolt of pure, white light shot from the nose of the helicopter and struck the tower. The beam chopped clean through concrete walls as if they were made of tissue paper. The top half of the tower slid down and crashed to the ground. The exposed edges of the straight cut glowed red with heat, and sliced power cables threw sparks into the night.

An orgasmic shiver ran down her spine.
Thank you, God.