Hero Born: Project Solaris (8 page)

"Not very smart, shooting the beast." The thug walked jauntily across the carpet, scooping up the golden boomerang. He tucked it into his pocket while turning a slow circle. "Damn. Looks like your girlfriend may have gotten away. I'm gonna have to take that out on you later." He knelt next to the beast, resting a hand on the intact part of the thing's face. "That's assuming my friend here leaves me enough to play with. Don't kill him, boy. But feel free to hurt him."

Chapter 13- Captured

"Wake up, David," came a familiar voice from somewhere far away. I didn't like that voice; it reminded me of unpaid overtime. I blinked awake, pulled up from the depths of sleep. Dick's dickish face hovered over me, wearing a plastic smile. "Ahh, good. You're awake. Welcome back to the land of the living."

I hurt. Everywhere. A burn on my neck competed with what felt like a cracked rib, and my right knee screamed when I moved it the tiniest bit. The pain shook off some of the cobwebs, but the grogginess persisted.

"Whe--" I croaked. I was parched. How long had I been out?

"Where are you?" Dick asked, gesturing at the room around him. "You're in the sub-basement. Initech is four levels above us. I needed a secure place to hold you, and this is the best I could come up with on short notice."

I tried to sit up, but thick bands of black rubber looped around my chest, pinning me to a cold, flat surface. Pieces of the same rubber had been duct-taped around my hands, too, sort of like boxing gloves. I looked around, but there were no windows. The room had only one door, and very little in the way of furniture. Just a desk in one corner, and what felt like an autopsy table that I was strapped to. The walls were whitewashed cinderblocks, perfect for blocking signals. Or any sound.

There was no sign of Jillian, or Kali. No sign of the strange beast, or the Latino who'd so thoroughly kicked our ass. I was alone, with no obvious means of escape.

"You probably have quite a few questions," Dick said, dragging a plastic chair near my head. He straightened his tie, then sat comfortably. "How did you get here? What's happened to you? What's
going
to happen to you?"

"Yeah, something like that," I muttered, wincing from the pain in my neck. "I know you want people committed to the company, but kidnapping seems a bit excessive."

"You've retained your sense of humor. That's good. You're going to need that," Dick gave me a smile you'd expect from a kid about to crush ants with his shoe. "Why don't we start by clearing away some misconceptions? I know about the grey men. In fact, I know a good deal more about them than you do. I know about your mother, that she was a precog, and a telepath. I know you thought she was crazy, and are now having to reassess your opinion."

That ran over me like a truck. Who the hell
was
Dick? Something brushed along the inside of my brain, like the precursor to a headache.
 

"You'll have to excuse the overzealousness of my henchmen." Dick was staring intently at me. Too intently. There was something there I was missing, but I was still too groggy to figure out what.

I just stared at him for a moment, trying to understand what was happening. The idea that Dick was in league with the grey men just wouldn't stick. It all seemed like too much of a coincidence. Again, I wondered who he was, and what his role in all this was.

"Your mother never told you about your real father, did she?" Dick said, tone somber. He leaned forward, eyeing me sternly.
 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I knew my father. Knew him well."
 

"Did you? Or did you know the man she told you was your father?" Dick replied, pausing to wait for my reaction.

"What are you saying exactly? That you're my
real
father? That's bullshit. What are you, like, thirty-five?" I growled, straining against my bonds. "What kind of sick game are you playing?

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd fall for that. I'm thirty-eight, so you're right about me being too young," Dick said, giving me a cruel smile. "I'm a Star Wars fan, what can I say? No, I'm not your father, but it would make sense. Your mother and I share a lineage, one you're about to manifest. Assuming you haven't already."

"You're a telepath?" I asked, feeling that feather-light brush inside my head again. It suddenly took on a more ominous feel.

"You're quick," Dick said, grinning. "Yes, I can hear your thoughts. Eventually you'll be able to protect against that, but for now you're an open book, David. You have no secrets that I can't pry from that impressive little brain."

"What's your interest in all this?" I asked.

"You mean how am I related to the grey men? Every person with abilities--you'd think of them as supers--was created by the grey men. As you're no doubt aware, all of us have an implant in our necks," Dick explained, touching his neck with two fingers to demonstrate. "We're tagged like animals, which means we can't run. Can't hide. The analogy is a good one. We're far, far more primitive than the grey men. Resistance, as I'm sure you're aware, is futile."

"So you work for them," I said. "And let me guess, you want me to work for them too?"

"It's not a matter of what I want, David. If you work for them you get to live. If you don't, well, they'll put you down just like we do a dangerous animal at a zoo. We're tools, like it or not. Isn't it better to live as a trusted servant, than to die accomplishing nothing? Principles are great, but they don't mean crap if you can't change anything and end up dead in the process." Dick gave a heavy sigh. "Your mother refused to be used. She started fighting back. You saw what the grey men did in response. She could have worked with them, and, if she had, then she'd still be alive today."

"What is it you want from me, exactly? It seems like an awfully big coincidence that you happened to hire me, of all people," I said, even as the thought formed. It was all a little too convenient, a promising startup taking an intern from a junior college. Part of me had known it was too good to be true.

"Fair enough, you want the pitch. Here it is," Dick said, leaning forward until his face was only a few inches away. "What the grey men want more than anything else is to contact their masters, wherever
they
come from. Doing that requires faster-than-light transmission."

I blinked once, connections forming. "So...all the work we're doing here. You don't give a crap about faster global internet. You're building a way for the grey men to phone home."

"Precisely. That's the reason I like you, David. You're quick. Can you guess why I'm so interested in you?"
 

"Because you think my abilities will speed the project," I said, a million questions rolling through my mind. Since he could hear my thoughts anyway I decided to ask the most important. "Why can't the grey men call home themselves if they're so advanced?"

"Ahh, right to the heart of things. I asked the very same question, not a wise move. I was tortured in ways you don't even want described, and learned right then that some questions are safer not to ask. I don't know why they can't do it themselves, but it doesn't matter. What does is that if I'm the one to provide the tools they need, then I get to live. If not, then I'll be...recycled." The way he said the last word left no doubt in my mind that being recycled would be worse than death.

"So if I don't want to be recycled, I need to cooperate with you?"
 

"I'd highly recommend doing so. Nor is working with me without perks," Dick said, magnanimously. "If you help me I can teach you to use your powers. With telemechanics, you can have wealth beyond your wildest dreams. You can delve into every secret on the internet. Hell, if you want to fight back, then you can do it quietly, on your own terms. But that only happens if you work with me first, if you help me give the grey men what they need."

I didn't want to refuse out of hand, though every part of me cried out at the idea of working for the grey men. Could I honestly do that, if it meant being given time to come up with a real resistance? Would I be able to live with myself? Or was death preferable? Could I find a way to take my own life?

"No," Dick responded to my thoughts. "Your bonds are secure. I won't allow you to take the easy way out. Work with me, or I'll turn you over to the grey men. They are far less accommodating than I am."

"I'll think about it, but I have one more question," I said, being as honest as I could. I
would
think about it. "What do the grey men want?"

"They're honest about their goals," Dick said, giving a helpless shrug. "They want to colonize the earth. You can ask them about it yourself in a few hours, when they arrive."

I panicked, thrashing in my bonds as the desperation mounted. Dick merely smiled.

Interlude 2

Doctor Usir stared out the window of his penthouse office, hands clasped behind his back. He gazed across San Francisco Bay, enjoying the way the sunlight played across it. The Golden Gate Bridge dominated the view, its smooth, coppery arches connecting Marin to the city. He still remembered watching the workmen sink the foundation, with only a thin bulwark to shield them from the ocean's crushing weight. There was so much history in that bridge, a hundred little facts most had forgotten. What would people think if they knew that the concrete that formed the south pylon included ground-up headstones from a local cemetery?
 

History was near-sighted, which was why every generation had to relearn the lessons of their parents. It was only when one gained perspective bought over centuries that one understood the larger picture. Very few could make that claim; only those few understood how much the world had changed over time, and that deeper secrets than a few headstones were waiting to be uncovered. Secrets like the one that lay under the bay, the one he so desperately needed to find. His daughter lay within, assuming the Ark still had power. There was only one way to reach her, and that was Object 3.
 

"Sir." The door to his office opened; Usir turned to face Summers. "You're going to want to deal with this. The phasic we encountered? She just walked into the lobby."

"Interesting," Usir said, smoothing his blazer. The soft material calmed him. "Have her escorted here, please. Bring Marcus back with you as well."

Summers gave a tight nod and departed the office. Having Marcus present was a calculated move. It wasn't for protection, as a simple phasic was no real threat, not to him anyway. No, this was a statement. Usir moved to the trio of chairs near the center of the room. Sinking into the plush leather drew a sigh of contentment. He'd been hardened in battle long ago, millennia before mankind learned to write, but there was no reason not to enjoy the simple pleasures a life such as his afforded.

He waited in silence for several minutes before the door opened again. Summers came in first, then a pair of women. He recognized the first from surveillance photos, one Jillian Kotati. She was a tall, raven-haired beauty, perhaps five foot ten. The girl beside her was just a hair shorter, with very similar features. A younger sister perhaps? The younger one's hair was dark too, but more of a deep auburn than a true black.

Marcus was last to enter, six feet of thickly-corded muscle, dark skin, and menace. He trailed just after the women, stalking into the room like a panther. Usir nodded at him, and Marcus moved to stand silently next to the door. Summers led the two visitors to the seats opposite Usir, and he gestured at them to be seated.

"Welcome," Usir said, crossing his legs. He smoothed out his tie, giving them a disarming smile. One of the benefits of appearing elderly was the implicit trust younger people granted him. Show them a friendly smile, and they'd assume he was a doddering old grandfather. "How can I be of assistance to you ladies?"

"You can start by explaining why blondie there ambushed David and I at the hospital," Jillian said, folding her arms as she glanced contemptuously at the chair. Her companion eyed the chairs longingly, but remained standing. That, too, was interesting. They'd adopted an offensive posture, right in the proverbial lions' den.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced. My name is Doctor Usir," he said, rising shakily to his feet and offering Jillian his hand. She eyed it for a moment, then took it. "And you are?"

"Jillian," she answered. She nodded at her companion. "That's Kali. Listen, we don't have time for pleasantries. David has been kidnapped."

"Has he?" Usir asked, sinking back into his chair. He steepled his fingers under his chin. "By whom?"

"We don't know, but I'm fairly certain it wasn't your people or I wouldn't be here." Jillian bristled, almost daring him to get angry.
 

"You're correct on that front, I'm afraid," Usir said. He relaxed into his chair, refusing to mirror Jillian's animosity. "To answer your first question, Summers and Marcus attempted to bring David in for his own protection. We wanted to prevent just the kind of kidnapping you're here to report. I can understand why the two of you ran; I'd likely have done the same. Summers mishandled that situation, and I apologize for it."

"I mishandled it?" Summers snapped. She took a step toward Usir. "You weren't there. She was phasic, and I didn't know what faction she was affiliated with. If she'd been working for the grey men--"

"She wasn't," Usir snapped, meeting Summers' glare. "And now David is, presumably, in their hands. He is the first telemechanic we've seen since Melinda Waters. Do you have any idea how catastrophic it will be if the grey men are able to use him to achieve their agenda?"