Cynetic Wolf

Visitors

‘The Dever team called, they haven’t located the brain-field banks,’ Paer said.

A lucky shot whizzed past as we ran for cover. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘It’s Calter,’ she hissed.

‘What?’ Despite the carnage, my heart stopped. What about him?

‘He’s there, with a special forces strike team no less.’

I froze. ‘But the first two facilities were destroyed?’

‘Yeah,’ she said.

‘Patch me through to Dever.’

‘One sec.’

A second voice crystalized, clean cut face to my right. ‘Rogers here.’

‘Rogers, this is Raek Mekorian. What’s your status?’

‘We captured the facility, sir!’ he barked. ‘But we’ve haven’t found any storage banks, sir.’

‘Paer, did the other teams find the brain banks?’ I asked.

‘Nothing labeled brain-fields or emulations, but they found matching neural hookups at both locations. Sending images now.’

An alien-looking image materialized, a metallic halo crown covered in spaced dents, tentacled black wires winding downward to a silver harness with another metallic halo.

Where had I seen that? Think.

An explosion shook the alleyway as it hit me. Lars’ book, The Rise of Immortality. I accessed my saved memories. A picture in Chapter 9 depicted an eerily similar setup captioned Earliest Attempts at Emulation.

That had to be it. I told Rogers and Paer, but they hadn’t found anything like it in Dever.

’You have to find that brain-field bank,’ Paer cut in. ‘Everything is riding on that.’

All our best laid plans... ‘How long until Calter’s forces breach the base?’ I asked.

‘Hold on. We hacked the cams.’ Several images materialized—fifteen in total—showing the fortress: walls, perimeter, everything.

‘You getting this?’ Rogers asked.

We were, but Lars wrenched me behind a recycler, and shoved a hand over my mouth. “Shhh!” He held his finger to his lips, and pointed to a wave of soldiers marching down the street, backup for their fallen comrades.

‘Shit!’ Rogers yelled. ‘Hangar alarm is going off. Smalls, get over here!’

A huge soldier ran to him and saluted. ‘Reporting for duty, sir!’

‘Smalls,’ Rogers said. ‘I need you and Drog to check that, ASAP!’

Our entire plan hung in the balance and I couldn’t do a thing about it.

The hanger appeared, a forklift racing toward an abandoned VTOL, a guard at the wheel.

They missed a guard. ‘He’s trying to save the backups!’ I yelled.

‘Smalls, Drog, come in!’ Rogers squawked. ‘We got company. There’s another guard in the hanger driving a forklift to save the brain-fields. Their reinforcements breached the base. Shoot! Doors two and four are compromised as well!’

We were losing. This couldn’t be happening.

This was Calter’s chance at immortality—and deniability—and he was taking it. I’d miscalculated...

Two figures sprinted into the hanger as the forklift was in the process of loading the VTOL. They opened fire. A few shots hit home but nothing happened.

The hanger doors blew off their hinges, daylight poured in along with black-clad figures. The soldiers concentrated their fire on Smalls and Drog as the VTOL’s engines purred.

This was it...

Calter appeared on another screen, eyes twinkling and smug as he tapped out Mozart with one hand, holding the other to his ear.

Now what? ‘It’s okay, Rogers,’ I said.’ You did your best—’ A cry cut me off.

Rogers dashed through the facility, carrying something, headed for the hanger. What the—?

‘What are you doing, soldier?’ Paer yelled.

The object in his hand was about the size of a brick, not quite rectangular, an almost doughy shape. What? No, it couldn’t be… A bomb.

‘Rogers, no!’ I bellowed.

Into the hanger he sprinted, soldiers everywhere. No one noticed until it was too late.

‘Rogers!’ I screamed. Don’t do this. Not you too.

‘I’m sorry!’ He yelled, diving toward the motionless VTOL. ‘Freedom!’ His voice reverberated through the cavernous hanger as his finger pressed the detonator.

Nothing happened.