Bastion Saturn (35 page)

On the street in front of the Hanson Building, Bert and his friends finally broke through to the sidewalk entrance. They stepped inside to the sound of different klaxons blaring at a higher pitch and accompanied by flashing lights. Caleb set Jennifer down, and she immediately started walking back to the door, eyes seeking the sky. Caleb said while grabbing her arm, “Bup bup, no you don’t.” He pulled a faux-potted plant out of its plastic decorative bucket and set the bucket over her head. She stopped and stood still.

Saanvi said, “How did you know to do that?”

He shrugged. “Instincts.” He yelled out into the lobby. “Hey, Teach, we’re inside.”

Monty’s voice came over a loudspeaker. “We see you on the lobby cameras. We’ve got nothing. We’re, uh, we’re spitballing down here.”

With the klaxons blaring, Caleb could barely hear the man over the PA system. He missed the cochlear communications implant that he and everyone who went to Saturn had removed as a standard precaution. Hell, if the fuckers on Earth can take over your mind with a nano virus, who gives a crap about a cochlear communications implant? “Can you turn the fucking horns off already? In here anyway? I think any uninfected folks in this building probably get it by now!” The klaxons stopped blaring, with the ones outside continuing to blast in their deeper pitch. “Thank you. They’re nanos. An electrical jolt should short-circuit them. We just need a Taser or a defibrillator or a nerve disruptor.” He held up the cop’s nerve disruptor. “I’ll be the first volunteer.”

There was a long pause and then Monty said, “Consensus down here is that’s a good idea. The North hospital is ten blocks away and will have defibrillators.”

Caleb said, “We’re not going to get ten blocks through that crowd.”

“Or, like you say, you could shoot yourself with that disruptor.”

In the battle room, the commander whispered in Hanson’s ear. Hanson pulled his head away in revulsion. “Jesus, man. Must you wet my ear? Say what you mean aloud for Christ’s sakes.”

The commander said, “The HPMs, sir. We direct them at the crowd. As you know, there is one on top of this building.”

“HPM?” asked Monty.

Hanson combed his fingers through his hair. “High-power microwave weapon. Defensive. Destroys unshielded electronics permanently. We made them to stop a Saturn bound invasion force from Earth. Not that those clever dupes wouldn’t shield their ships.” He drew his hands down over his face and blew out a sigh. Wishful thinking, that.”

The commander said, “Harmless to humans. Relatively harmless to the city, with the population all jammed into the park.”

“Brilliant, Davidson,” said Hanson to the commander. “How do we do it?”

“Well, we’re sealed off in here, and I will note for the record that there has been a major oversight in not having decompression suits available in the Battle Room, but those people up top can work it if we talk them through it.”

On the other side of the city, Samantha followed her pilots to the launch bay. A quick scan of the police records database had told her which of the bunch was the best and she buckled in with that one— a young male officer, whom Samantha’s visual processors would have estimated to be seventeen, but whose data records showed to be twenty-nine. While she had been hooked into the Hanson mainframe, she had also sent a burst transmission to Earth, confirming her success. In an hour and twenty-four minutes, her comrades at home would know of the glory of the mission and that she was off to Soul to repeat the procedure, this time with an escort of Hanson PD officers. She was like a queen bee, surrounded by drones, making her way to nest in a new hollow. The coup de grace for Hanson was now simple enough. While the active balloon that surrounded the city was a remarkable piece of technology, it ironically relied on the healing powers of countless nanobots. It was therefore vulnerable to a massive assault. With enough firepower, the system could be overloaded and the balloon damaged badly enough to let Titan’s poison atmosphere overwhelm at least the surface of the city. She would direct her pilots in their heavily armed cop ships to do exactly that, in one fell swoop, extinguishing the population of Hanson as they mutely stared at their sky ripping apart.

In the Hanson building lobby, Commander Davidson’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Don’t shoot yourselves, yet. Assuming you survive, the recovery time takes too long. Take the express elevator all the way to the penthouse level. We’ll bypass the lockout. We’ll give you more directions once you’re up top.”

Caleb held on to Jennifer with Spruck’s help, insuring that she wouldn’t flip off the planter and walk out the door. Caleb took the planter off her head and made the mistake of looking into her eyes. While her body struggled to turn to the door, her eyes stared pleadingly at him. He was shaken and froze as he gazed back.

Spruck finally jerked his arm. “Come on, buddy. We—”

Caleb nodded and lifted her again over his shoulder. They all walked to the express elevator, which opened as they stepped up to it. When they filed in, the PH button lit on its own accord, and then suddenly Spruck was stepping back out of the elevator. Natalie, said, “Jones, baby. Where you going?”

Spruck didn’t answer. Caleb said, “Aw, crap,” and passed Jennifer to Bert’s surprised embrace. Caleb followed Spruck. “Please tell me you’re afraid of elevators.”

Spruck ignored him and continued toward the lobby door and the teeming masses outside. Caleb bent and wrapped an arm around Spruck’s waist, easily lifting him off the floor in the low gravity. “Come on.”

Spruck also offered little resistance, and Caleb caught a glance of the man’s eyes filled with terror. When he got back in the elevator Natalie asked, “Is he?” A quick look at Spruck’s face confirmed her suspicion.

Saanvi said, “Oh God. They got through his suit. They’re going to get through all our suits.”

Natalie said, “You smell that? Smells like cinnamon in here.”

Caleb said aloud for anyone in the Battle Room listening, “Let’s go! No time to lose!” At the same moment, Natalie’s arms dropped to her sides and she started for the door. Caleb yanked her back as the doors shut. Saanvi twisted Natalie around to face her and watched the woman’s features contort with struggle. Saanvi’s own eyes brimmed over with tears, and her lips trembled in fear. She and Caleb stood watching the numbers change as the elevator lifted them. Saanvi said more to herself than Caleb, “Maybe Nat and Spruck just didn’t get their suits on in time.”

The numbers stopped at PH and the doors slid open. A commanding view of building tops, faux clouds, and a faux sunset filled 180 degrees of floor-to-ceiling windows. The space was a private Japanese-meets-English garden, with bridges and meandering brooks, pools, and falls. The plants were all real and the humidity, if they could have felt it, would have been as sumptuous as on any perfect day on any Pacific island. The Commander’s voice spoke over the elevator speaker. “Left to the far wall. The door labeled roof. It’s only one flight.”

Jennifer, Spruck, and Natalie started out of the elevator, pushing past Caleb and Saanvi to walk left. Caleb and Saanvi followed with Bert close behind. Caleb felt warm tears fall down his cheeks as he took in the beauty of the place.
Hanson’s private garden. Lucky bastard.

It was surreal as Saanvi and Caleb watched their zombified friends push open the roof access door without any need for prompting. They all trudged up the stairs and stepped out onto an observation deck, which was surrounded by tall clear aerogel walls. There were six people already up there. They were dressed in the uniforms of Hanson building workers: maintenance, gardeners, a man in a receptionist uniform. They were all staring into the sky. Natalie, Spruck, and Jennifer joined them. A glance out at the central park showed a sea of humans all doing the same, their bodies slightly swaying, the throng like a wheat field swirled in a gentle breeze. Caleb said to Bert, “Tell them we’re here.”

Bert pointed at a camera. “They see us. They say, take a look at the domed object on the platform in the middle. The dome will pop off on my mark. Please guide the receptionist to step back about a meter from where he is now.”

Caleb took the man’s arm and pulled him back a bit. The receptionist offered no resistance. The domed object was roughly six feet tall. Its shell cracked in two and fell to the sides, revealing what could only be described as a ray-gun contraption mounted on a swivel. It had a dish not unlike a satellite-signal receiver with a tube sticking out of the center of it. Caleb looked at Saanvi to get her reaction to the thing and did a double take as he saw that she too was mindlessly gazing into the sky. “Ah shit. Quick, quick, tell me what to do. I’m the only one left.”

Bert spoke with rattled nerves. “They say, oh, okay. It’s only designed to point at the sky for defense. It wasn’t meant to be pointed at the ground. There is however a way to release it for maintenance. You can lift the base out of its housing and hopefully point it at the park. It’s going to be heavy. You’ll need my help.”

Caleb said, “OK. Let’s do this.” He climbed up onto the platform and examined the mounting brackets on the device. “Seems simple enough to pop these—”

Bert climbed up to look at the brackets, then noticed Caleb staring at the sky. Bert’s face broke into a fit of grief before he said aloud, “He’s gone, commander. Mr. Day is gone.”

In the Battle Room Hanson’s swearing was cut off by a junior officer who blurted out, “There are multiple ships lifting off from the landing zone. They are all pinging Police ID.”

“Oh thank God,” said Hanson. “Any of them armed with EMP devices?”

“No, sir,” said the commander. “Too easily turned into an offensive weapon in the wrong hands, sir. Your orders if I recall correctly. Proven to be a good choice given the rogue elements that have been found in the police forces.”

Monty raised his eyebrows and nodded.

Hanson said to the junior officer, “Well reach out to them. Why have they launched?”

“Already did, sir. No response. Here’s the visual.” The officer gave them a wide view of the skyline. The ships could be seen lifting into the air. When they were halfway between the rooftops and the edge of the balloon, they suddenly opened fire with a blazing assortment of weapons. Everyone in the Battle Room gasped as they watched the balloon burst and shred and then slam back together, only to burst and shred again as it took more hits. The commander yelled, “Full auto defense! Destroy those ships!”

On the tip of the Hanson Building’s roof, Bert stepped off the platform and stood alone among his friends and their fellow zombies. He watched in amazement at the light show above. The faux sunset had faded to gray, and then suddenly the sky went black, creating a sort of broken jigsaw puzzle backlit by Titan’s deadly orange atmosphere. Then the electromagnetic pulse weapon that had been under the dome shifted, aimed, and made a brief humming sound. A police ship in line with it veered and lost control, slowly tumbling back to the surface. More ships followed its lead.

Samantha sat in the cockpit of her cop ship and coldly watched the balloon struggling to reassemble itself. The light show that reflected off her alabaster bald head appeared psychedelic; the shifting orange atmosphere’s light morphing across her black corneas and mixing with bright flashes of explosive bursts. Her pilot wordlessly released more weapons and she smiled at his robotic profile with unmasked malevolence. Then the ship next to hers went tumbling down. Samantha cocked her head at the sudden disruption. As she swiveled her head to look out the other side, her ship went suddenly dark and her with it. The light show continued to reflect off her eyes, but the light within was gone. The policeman pilot slowly became aware of his surroundings, saw that the ship was tumbling to the ground and had enough instinct to hit the eject button.

On the Hanson Building rooftop, Bert watched in awe as the cop ships fell. Some pilots ejected, and the balloon . . . the balloon wavered with great orange gaps filling while new tears burst open like exploding bubbles in a thick stew. Then slowly, slowly the wounds healed themselves, the gaps growing smaller until the poison beyond was blotted out. The blackness became uniform and then the sunset faded back in, garnished with pink clouds with silver linings. All of the humans below continued to unblinkingly stare at the sky. Bert heard the commander’s voice calling him within his head.

“Yes, sir. I’m still here.”

The commander said, “It will have to be you WBert987.”

“Of course, sir. At your service. But if you don’t mind, I just go by Bert.”

There was a pause and then the commander said, “Very well, Bert. Now here’s the thing. The device needs to be pointed, and it has a relatively narrow beam. However, there will be residual energy released around the dish. We . . . don’t think you’ll be able to aim it more than once, so you’ll need to point it at your owners so that they can take over.”

Bert felt his nose scrunch at the reference to ownership. “I’m quite certain that I am capable of aiming it multiple times, sir.”

There was another pause, then Monty came on the line. “Hello, Bert. Monty Teach here.”

“Hello, Mr. Monty. Nice to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too. Here’s the thing, Bert. For you to aim it, you’re likely to get in the path of the beam or at least get hit with some residual pulse. That’s going to knock you out.”

“I see. Will that be permanent, Mr. Monty?”

“Yes it will, Bert. It fries electronics beyond repair. Now, I’m sure, as is standard, that you’ve uploaded yourself during your most recent charge, so Mr. Hanson has promised he will load you right back into a bot that he can do without, same make and model.”

Bert felt a regretful smile pull at his right cheek. He had repeatedly noted that when he had stood next to a charging station, that he had gotten incompatible software warnings, ones that could not be resolved and thus could not be uploaded along with the rest of his history. The nano virus on Phoebe had uniquely changed him. It couldn’t be repeated. The consciousness that he was experiencing, that had made him distinct unto himself would be lost forever. A clone would just be a program running without his soul attached. “OK,” he said. “I understand. I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be necessary. I wouldn’t want another bot to lose its existence so that I might be able to save mine.”