The Lightcap (26 page)

Adam wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but he eased his head around the corner.  The door was ajar, the hint of light passing over its edges.  Smaller text had replaced the words on the screen.  Adam had to get closer to read it.  When he neared the screen, he was shocked to see:

 “Friend of yours?” said a voice from behind Adam.  Pavel stood there, reading over his right shoulder, with a look of grateful puzzlement on his face.

“More like a brother,” Adam said with obvious relief and joy.  “Jon Bays, my oldest friend.  I haven’t talked to him in over a decade.  He disappeared after resigning from Adaptech.  I assumed he had forgot all about me.  Guess I was wrong.”

“He picked a hell of a time to remember,” came Aria’s voice.  Her body caught up and turned the corner with Dej slumped against her.  “And I don’t know about anybody else, but I would like to get the fuck out of this room now.”

Back in the hall, they took a moment to collect their thoughts and breath.  The oxygen must have been escaping the room prior to their arrival, because Dej took longer to revive.  Eventually, however, he opened his eyes.  “Aria,” he said, his voice a whisper, “Thank you for saving me.”

Aria looked as if she was fighting back more tears.  She looked down and said to no one in particular, “I can’t let anything happen to Dej.”

Adam looked at Pavel, who nodded slightly.  He then turned to Aria and said, “Take Dej back to the chopper.  Get him patched up as best you can.  The Doc and I will find Velim.  We’ll be right behind you.  Stay safe.”

Aria looked at both of them with surprise and gratitude.  She picked Dej back up, and they were off down the hall.  Pavel and Adam walked beside her for several steps, then made a sharp right turn at the intersecting hallway leading to Montery’s old office.  The Blue they had spared from Aria’s wrath was gone, which gave Adam pause, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

Pavel and Adam walked to the end of the hallway in uneasy silence, greeted again by an unusually large slab of obsidian.  Apparently Metra Corp executives preferred lavish surroundings over frugality, despite what the media had broadcast on the Spartan habits of the newly elected leaders.  Adam wrapped his hand around the cold steel handle to pull open the door when Pavel said, “Adam, wait.”  Adam looked back and met the old man’s gaze. 

“I want to tell you that it has been an honor,” Pavel said.  “I know we haven’t spoken much, and I know when we have it hasn’t always been friendly.  My mind has been weighed heavily with thoughts of this day for months. 

“I knew I’d eventually have to make a move against LaMont, and that’s why I started dosing you with Cloud, because I wanted someone on the inside I could trust and someone smart enough to find the truth.  I am deeply sorry if my actions have created problems for you or caused any sort of lasting harm.  I did the best I could, given the circumstances.”  Adam nodded, holding the door handle.

“I know we can’t stand here and talk forever,” Pavel continued.  “The last thing I want to say is thank you for being so adamant about rescuing Sera.  She is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a daughter, and I wanted very much to believe she had not sided with LaMont, but I cast those hopes aside as the delusions of a foolish old man.  You have renewed my faith in the intrinsic goodness that can exist within a person.  For that, I can never repay you.”

Under any other circumstance, Adam might have got choked up.  In this one, he held his hand out to Pavel and said, “Doctor Troyka, the pleasure is mine.  I have read about you and your work since I was a child.  To stand next to you now, to fight by your side . . . ” Adam struggled for the right words, not knowing what else to say.  That he owed Pavel his life?  That Pavel opened his eyes to the truth?  “
I
am honored,” he finished, as Pavel gripped his hand firmly.

“Shall we?” The old man asked with a grin.  Adam nodded and pulled the door open with all his weight.  They stepped into the CEO’s suite.

Montery’s former rooms struck Adam as more extravagant than LaMont’s old executive suite.  They found themselves in a narrow hallway, lined with dark red mahogany bookshelves filled with aged manuscripts.  The tattered bindings and the smell of musty leather gave Adam the impression they had been there for some time.  This made sense, as LaMont did not strike Adam as particularly literary, but he was certainly the sort to keep any kind of decoration implying erudition, and everyone knew old books could be expensive and rare. 
Also,
Adam thought bitterly to himself,
LaMont is probably the sort who’d collect trophies of vanquished foes.

The hallway opened at a freestanding barrier, blocking the view of the door from the main area of the office.  As they approached this wall, Pavel tapped Adam’s shoulder, pointed at himself and to their right, then pointed at Adam and to their left.  They went in their respective directions at the end of the hallway.  Adam kept his shoulder pressed against the barrier as he approached its edge.  The solid feeling of the wall gave him a bit of comfort as he lost sight of Pavel.

When Adam rounded the corner, his heart sank into his stomach.  Two lines of Blues—one on his side, one on Pavel’s—stood at attention, facing the room’s interior.  At the other end of the room, after the twelve armed men, sat Roman LaMont at a desk, wearing the same smug smile Adam had seen many times before.  Velim sat at LaMont’s right, silent, her hands folded in her lap.  She gave no indication she was aware of what was happening.  Everyone in the room, with the exception of Pavel and Adam, was wearing a Lightcap.  Adam wondered what LaMont’s was for.

“Gentlemen,” LaMont said, spreading his hands out in a jovial welcome, “please have a seat.”  He indicated two large plush chairs facing his desk.  Seeing no other choice, they sat down.  “Welcome to my office.  Can I get you anything?  Pavel, my old friend, would you like a bandage?”  He pointed to Pavel’s bleeding arm.  The doctor did not answer.  LaMont turned to look at Adam and said, “Well, boy, I have to say I didn’t think you had it in you.  I thought you about shit yourself that day when I told you I would fire you if you stood up to me again, yet here you are.  I must not be as intimidating as I thought.”  He chuckled.

Adam suppressed the urge to offer a witty retort and said, “I’m here for her.”  He motioned to Velim, who sat to his left, staring blankly.  “I won’t let you keep her as a slave.”

LaMont leaned back and laughed, his head tossing as each staccato bleat punched against Adam’s eardrums.  Adam, who could feel his anger rising, wanted to leap across the desk and bash LaMont’s face in, give him a good shock from the electrodusters, but he knew he’d be dead before he was halfway there.  As his laughter subsided LaMont said, “Slave.  That’s rich.  She’s no more a slave than I am.  You thought you were going to ride in here, knight on a white horse, and save the damsel in distress?  Beat the big evil dragon and take home your prize?  Speaking of slaves, where’s the black bitch you’re working with?  I didn’t expect her to be able to disable the elevator system and security cameras.  Did she go back to the chopper with the Indian?  I sure hope so, because she’ll find a roomful of Blues ready to give her and the curry kid some new holes.”

Adam was about to start yelling, but Pavel said with an even tone, “Bullshit, Roman.  Absolute, utter hogwash.  We know Sera is a slave.  We know the Lightcap lets you play puppet master.  We’re here to end it.  As far as Aria is concerned, I have no doubt she can take care of herself.”

A look of shock passed over LaMont’s face at unexpected boldness when he’d expected pleading.  “We’ll see how your friends fare,” he said.  “Sera’s a slave, yes, but if she wanted to leave right now, she could.  She’s not always under control.  When she’s not, she has some degree of independent action.”  LaMont glanced at her with mock pity.

“Sure, but you neuter her sense of self, play up the obedience tendencies,” Adam said angrily.  “Don’t act as if people have their full wills, or that she could get up and just walk out the door right now.  She has to know somewhere in her addled mind that if she tries to escape you’ll kill her.  Is she even able to think on her own anymore?  How long have you had that cap on her?”  Adam could feel his voice rising, his control starting to slip away.

Pavel reached over and gently restrained his forearm in an unspoken warning or a show of solidarity, Adam wasn’t sure which.  He gripped the arms of the chair and attempted to calm down.  There was no point in playing their hand too soon.

LaMont flashed his pompous smile, his face showing he knew he had got under Adam’s skin.  The smile parted, and he said, “Not as long as you think.  She almost never wears it anymore.  She’s one of the most obedient assistants I’ve ever had.”  He sat back and tapped his fingers on his desk.  “You don’t really understand what is going on here,” he added.  “You think you have it all figured out, but you don’t.  Sadly, you never will. 

“Sure, the Lightcap makes you a little docile, more open to guidance.  Who says that’s a bad thing?  Look at those people out there,” he said, sweeping his hand toward the window, where the lights of New Metra City sparkled in the distance.  “They don’t want choice, they want convenience.  To be a part of something, to feel as if they have some kind of say.  The poor bastards out there who work four jobs—you think they care about the shit going on up here?  It’s not even on their radar.  They’re too busy making sure they don’t lose one of their jobs, because then they’d lose their house, and then they’d disappear.  Gotta keep up appearances to live in a Corp Region!”  He shook his head and exhaled as if faced with a difficult task.

“Did you know something like ninety percent of them have sold their voting share?” LaMont continued, his face wrinkling into a look of disdain.  “A lot of them lie about it, and we make sure any official numbers get cooked before release.  We keep modifying this great nation we’ve built.  Our founder, Pennington himself, thought you had to give the poor their voting share.  Now we know they just need to think they’ve got one.  Appearances matter.  Now more than ever.  That’s why there are over fifty million video nodes and counting, almost all of which are owned by Metra Corp, through TeleVice and its subsidiaries.  Everyone can choose their own node, but they all come with a slant, a bent.  Everything has a little truth, but it’s all mostly false, all about appearances.

“Metra Corp is spun as being an umbrella group for the five founding corporations, when in reality it now owns them, plus many other companies here, in Cascadia, and the Confederacy.  More and more each day, including Adaptech.  Why do you think I was picked by Montery?  Got named as third in line?  It was part of my deal to allow the secret purchase by Metra Corp, absorbing Adaptech’s assets.”

Adam felt a flash of heat, then said through gritted teeth, “Yes, Montery.  Slate.  Hana.  A lot of people die because of you, but your hands are never dirty.”

“Oh, come on,” LaMont said with a chuckle.  “You can’t possibly blame that on me.  You’re the one who did it.  All we did was tell you Montery and Slate wanted to shut down the project, which was true, and that I wanted to expand it, which is also true.  We asked you for the most logical way to make sure the project survived, and you said the obvious answer was to remove the two people standing in the way of me being in charge.  It was your idea, Adam.”  He brought his hands back behind his head and leaned back in his chair.  Adam had not thought LaMont’s smile could appear even larger.

Adam opened his mouth to deny it, but before the words passed his lips he was struck with a disturbing sense of knowing.  He knew LaMont’s words were true.  He remembered, vaguely, being asked how to handle the budget issue facing his project.  By LaMont.  And Velim.

Pavel spoke on Adam’s behalf.  “Adam is a good man.  Sera is a good woman.  You are not good, Roman.  You never have been and never will be.  You are corrupt—not just greedy but mad, terrible, and diseased.  You have a sickness you seek to impose as the motive for the actions of others, but
you
are the one manipulating them and pulling the strings.  I do not believe Adam would do this terrible thing of his own volition, even if you entrapped him into coming up with the idea.”

“Guilty,” LaMont replied, still laughing, holding his hands up as if caught by a Blue.  “Adam came up with the idea, but he was no warrior, no assassin.  We put him under control for the actual act, just so he wouldn’t have to trouble his conscience.  He had already expressed the idea, so why not let him see it through?”

“Because I’m not a murderer!” Adam cried.  He was tired of this back and forth, but it seemed Pavel was trying to get something from LaMont.  He kept waiting for some kind of signal from the old man, some indication it was time to throw the switch sending them all into a panic, then rescue the girl and make their grand escape, but Pavel had barely even looked in Adam’s direction, his glances divided between LaMont and the floor.

The doctor then looked up at LaMont and said, “Roman, you have been nothing but a power-hungry maniac since the day I met you.  Don’t you realize what you’re doing is not sustainable?  You can’t keep amassing power in the hands of the few at the expense of everyone else.  They will eventually have had enough.  Don’t you understand your actions will lead to your own collapse?  Look at the history you cite.  The companies that eventually formed Metra Corp had to rebuild the entire society after Pennington and his cronies destroyed it.”