Phoenix Rising (Book Two of The Icarus Trilogy) (40 page)

“You really think those rifles are going to help, Norris?” Jenkins asked, trying to force the thoughts from his mind.  Norris looked at him and cocked his head.

“Well, I’d wager they’d help more than those silly barricades you have set up in all the hallways.  Bloody waste of time, if you ask me.  At least I got the ‘Finger of God,’ here,” Norris said as he lifted the rifle for emphasis before letting his hand slide along the stock.  He really did appreciate a good weapon.

“Nice to see you still have your sense of humor, Norris,” Jenkins said before looking off into the distance.  It was a broken world laid before him, shards of metal and wreckage reflecting dim light while grey clouds seemed to cover everything.  It was just as oppressive as the thoughts plaguing him; just as depressing as the thought that he might die in just a few hours.

“Way I see it, mate, this isn’t the time to lose it,” Norris said before setting aside his rifle.  He looked at the artificial soldier and realized what the man must be thinking under these circumstances.  The Englishman sighed and then kicked out at the soldier’s foot, which caused Jenkins’ eyes to snap back at him.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Norris asked with a coy smile.  He wasn’t going to let this kid sink into despair just yet.  It was too early for that.  Jenkins furrowed his brow and sighed before bringing his leg closer to him.

“This waiting… it’s just getting to me.  And while I know we probably won’t make it out of here and it probably doesn’t matter… well, they’re over there in the clinic…”Jenkins said, having difficulty gathering his words in the right order.  He looked back up at Norris, who was in the process of rolling his eyes.

“Again with that shite?  Look, Jenkins, I don’t care what they say; you’re real.  You’re flesh and blood.  I just kicked you, didn’t I?”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“But nothing, mate.  Far as I’m concerned you’re two different people, and between you and me you got a better sense of life about you.  Now, I’ll give it to the first Jenkins, he knew how to lighten up in certain situations,” Norris said before smiling and remembering his interactions with the other Crow.  He laughed at the memory before turning his eyes back to the soldier in front of him.  “Well, that’s a story for another time, anyway.  What I’m saying is that I told that boy one of my favorite lines about freedom, saying it’s choosing your way to die, love that movie, and then he goes and commits suicide.  Just a lack of spirit and general moxie, my friend.  From what I’ve seen,” Norris said before shrugging, “you got those.  You don’t need anything else.”

Jenkins considered the sniper’s words but shook his head before bringing up his right hand and rubbing his forehead.  All that spirit and moxie the Englishman had mentioned were not natural; they were artificial qualities that Hawkins had made up in his computer.  They were just the signature of a mad scientist.

“But that’s not me, Norris. That’s not Jenkins.  I’m fake.  I’m artificial.  My brain, my personality came from a pudgy little man in a lab coat rearranging and modifying a man who had killed himself.  I’m not a genuine person and I don’t even know what I can really consider as my own ‘self,’” Jenkins said while putting air quotes around the last word.  “I don’t know what any of my actions can mean if they didn’t come from my own experience or life.  Hell, I, as a person or life or soul or whatever, have only existed for a month.  I can’t be confident in anything I do,” Jenkins said before looking off towards the other three Crows taking up positions on the other sides of the roof.  Jenkins felt that he was no better than those drones; they were all just experiments.  He was interrupted by Norris sitting up and backhanding him in the face.  The artificial soldier looked over in shock to see Norris staring at him with his brow furrowed and the usual smile absent from his face.

“That’s three different kinds of bullshit, you know that?” Norris said as he sat back down.  Jenkins had never seen the man look so serious.  “You can be confident in
everything
you do.  Who gives a flying fuck if you’re fake?  You’re still you.  You can still think and act on your wishes and you can even go jack off in the loo if you feel like it.  You’re real and you have a brain.  And I can tell deep down that you have some goals; maybe some feeling that you might want to get off this bloody planet.  Hawkins doesn’t mean shit anymore; he just laid some groundwork,” Norris said before shifting forward and poking Jenkins in the forehead with his index finger.

“Whatever is in there is you now and there’s no more pointing fingers,” he said before realizing that he was still touching the man’s forehead, “well, except that last one.  You get to deal with what you got, just like the rest of us.  Our pasts don’t mean a goddamned thing except that we get to tell stories about them, and I’m fairly certain you can still tell a story about Jenkins back in New Chicago.  Just remember the details this time; your predecessor was horrible with those,” Norris said before plopping down on his butt and grabbing his rifle in annoyance.

“You are who you are, mate, and no one can change that now.  You just have to deal with it.  I can’t change myself from being a bloodthirsty sociopath, as the popular opinion stands, and you can’t change yourself from being a copy of a real man.  But that’s ok,” Norris said, letting the smile return to his face.  “You have your own story, now.  Just remember the details.”  Jenkins looked at the Englishman and found that he was smiling as well.  He shook his head and looked out at the broken landscape in front of them.

“What use is a story going to be if we all die here, Norris?  We could all be heroes and nobody would know,” Jenkins said with a dark smile.  Norris merely laughed at the thought and set down his rifle again. 

“Guess one of us will just have to live through this just for the entertainment value.”

-

Charlotte felt completely awkward in the resurrection chamber.  She had always been alone to greet each of the soldiers, but now two men were standing off to her side.  Cortes and Templeton had gone back to the barracks, forgoing the traditional therapy.  It was better for the Spaniard to gear up in his power armor and be ready rather than spend a couple of hours on the treadmill.  There was no telling when their enemies would descend upon them.

As the doctor watched the computer display, trying to find any aberrations in Jenkins’ readings, Carver and Albert stood nearby.  The old veteran was just now realizing that he could have avoided all of this; if he had not meddled in the boy’s life, there wouldn’t be all this fuss about bringing him back.  The old man sighed as he pushed the thought from his mind; there was no point in this kind of fantasy and his young friend would be back with him soon enough.

Albert felt out of place, especially since he had never been present for any of the resurrections.  The young revolutionary had only been responsible for leading these men back to the clinic after they had suffered structural damage; only when the Commission’s investments needed to be replaced.  Albert tried to look around the room and think of other things, but his mind kept coming back to the same conclusion.

The soldier that was about to come out of storage was the same soldier that Albert had led to death.

With little warning the loading bay opened up in front of the three revolutionaries.  Albert started to imagine there was a bottomless pit beyond those doors, but he knew it was only a few hundred meters down to the bottom.  It still felt endless, as if they were literally calling someone back from the land of the dead.

As the thought struck the false EOSF guard, Jenkins’ cell came into view.  The containment unit continued along the track and was soon past the opening of the loading bay.  Charlotte’s heart leapt at the sight of Jenkins, the real Jenkins, after all this time.  She could tell that the man’s eyes were open against the stinging biotic fluid that surrounded him.  The good doctor bit her lip as the cell was drained of fluid and Jenkins hung against the restraints of his cell.

The loading arm lowered the cell and then maneuvered the storage unit into the mooring of the resurrection chamber before retreating back into the yawning chasm of darkness.  The loading bay doors slid closed and the three revolutionaries stood by as the cell hissed open and Jenkins was exposed to the cool air of the chamber.  Charlotte grabbed the syringe with the sedatives but as she turned the newborn, Jenkins greeted her by shaking his head.  She had forgotten that Jenkins always declined the sedatives, just like Carver.  Charlotte set the syringe aside and carefully slid her fingers under the strap beneath the soldier’s head and pulled it away.

Carver watched the process and had to remind himself to breathe.  He hadn’t realized how important this was to him until now.  He hadn’t realized how much the soldier and his return had meant.  This was redemption; this was Carver turning back the clock and undoing his mistakes.  The veteran couldn’t help but feel anxious as Charlotte grabbed a hold of the breathing tube with her right hand.

“Are you ready?” Charlotte asked, forgetting to go through the proper protocols, only concerned with getting this man back to the land of the living.  The unintentional messiah figure nodded slowly and the doctor pulled the tube out of the man’s throat.  Jenkins coughed weakly as the plastic was removed, but soon enough he was staring at the ceiling.  He tried to speak, but his vocal chords were not entirely used to the idea.  Jenkins cleared his throat and began again, all three revolutionaries paying close attention to the words.

“Get me a gun.”

Jasper Montgomery looked out on his city and could only feel anger.  He reached out to touch the glass and found his hand old and decrepit; much older than he had realized.  The executive shook the realization away, knowing that it was only the natural order of things.  All men pass from the world, and all men must follow the rules.

And that was exactly why he was furious.  Those little pieces of dirt on
his
planet were breaking the rules.

The old man was still gazing out on his city when Darren silently opened the doors and let himself in.  The young executive didn’t know how the old man was going to react to this new development, but Darren knew to keep his distance.  In his youth Jasper had been hard-hearted, ruthless and particularly fond of callous violence; he had not yet developed a sense of sophistication and elegance.  Christiansen thought that it was quite possible the man might regress after a slave uprising.

“Sit down,” Jasper said softly to the glass in front of him, clouding the view of his masterpiece.  It was the only sound in the office and from across the room Darren could hear the words of his teacher.  The young man walked swiftly towards the chairs in front of the desk, abandoning any pretense of laziness or his usual disaffected air; he was nervous about what the most powerful man in the human race would do.

Jasper continued to stare out at his city and wondered what he could have done to avoid this little travesty.  He had thought the slave soldiers cowed; the general populace neutered and apathetic.  He had designed it that way.  The fighting was their
entertainment
; it was supposed to keep them down and out and prevent them from caring.  The old man peered down towards the streets and wondered how many of those black specks carrying on with their useless lives were plotting to destroy his tower.  He wondered how many dissidents and rebels and horrible maggots wanted to ruin his dream.  Jasper Montgomery took his hand away from the window in disgust and peered over his shoulder at his protégé.  The usually-confident man was looking anxious; it made Jasper feel like he still had plenty of power left in him.

“You’ve heard the news, I’m assuming,” Jasper said before turning back to the glass, looking upwards.  He could see Eris in the twilight sky and felt rage boiling under his skin.

“Yes,” Darren said after a short pause.  He wanted to be exceedingly careful with his words.  “I’m certain we can deal with this,” he said, trying to lead Jasper into some explanation.  The old man scoffed and squinted at the asteroid devoted to war.  He had plenty of ideas for those men up there.  The head of the Trade Union smiled as he thought of Spartacus and the roads lined with crucified slaves.  It was too good for these modern slaves, but it was a start.

“Of course we can deal with this,” Jasper snapped, quickly breaking away from the fantasy and giving into annoyance.  “I could send the entire EOSF up there and end this in a day.  I could destroy the asteroid and then build another one.  I could bring down the heavens and give them a real Hell, but that’s not the point, Darren,” Jasper said as he turned his gaze from the planet and back to his young student.

“The point, my young friend, is that they should never have gotten the chance.  I own this system and it disturbs me to no end that they thought they could get out from under my control,” he said as he brought his hands to the desk to support his weight.  He looked at Darren with eyes full of cold rage and a scowl on his face.  Christiansen felt a tingle in the back of his mind and was shocked to realize that he was afraid of the frail man in front of him.  He gulped instinctively and breathed in sharply.

“Sometimes you can’t help that, Jasper,” Darren started, but the old man’s eyes flickered at the comment and he rapped on the desk with his weathered knuckles.

“Mr. Montgomery, my young friend,” the executive said with a note of venom before standing up straight.  “It seems everyone is forgetting to give me the proper respect these days.  I do
not
appreciate it,” the old man said before walking over to the oak liquor cabinet.  Jasper looked at the decanter and grunted before bending down and opening the doors.  He brought out an old bottle of scotch and set in on the counter.  He had received the bottle when he had first opened this tower and now, thirty years later, he was finally going to open it.

“Sir,” Darren said, standing up and approaching the old man.  He felt a strong need to make up for his lapse in judgment and decided that he could do without the familiarity.  “This isn’t your fault.  Some would say human nature would dictate that something like this would happen eventually.  The common man-” he started, but Jasper quickly turned around and threw the bottle of scotch down at their feet, scattering glass and liquor in all directions.