Chapter Eighteen
Convergence
Thomas and Jennifer were lost. They were making their way silently through the halls of the prison facility, looking for an exit, but as they walked past door after door without finding anything but empty cells Jennifer was beginning to get nervous, and Thomas was trying to hide the fact that he was as well.
They had been sitting on the floor of their cell discussing what they were going to do when there was a loud buzz and the door suddenly swung open. The other prisoner with them looked back at them for a second and then stuck his head out of the cell and looked down the hall. He looked over his shoulder one last time at Thomas and Jennifer, and then took off down the hall.
Thomas pushed himself up to his feet but didn't move to the door right away. Jennifer rose up next to him and dusted off her clothing. “What do you think we should do Tommy?”
Thomas slowly made his way to the door, expecting at any moment to here the sound of guards encountering their former cellmate. But as he approached the door the sound of silence confronted him, and he tried to make sense of what was happening.
Jennifer followed him close behind with her hand on his back. When he reached the door, Thomas carefully poked his head out into the hall and looked in both directions. All the cell doors were hanging open, but he couldn't see any other prisoners or guards anywhere.
Thomas turned to face Jennifer. “They didn't process me when they brought me in. No fingerprints, no pictures. They just shoved me in here. Did they process you?”
Jennifer shook her head. “No, they didn't even ask me my name.” Jennifer looked up at him. “Why Tommy? What are you thinking?”
Thomas looked back out into the hall. “I don't know what's happening here baby. But from the sound of that explosion, I think it's something bad. I don't see any guards anywhere, and right now, I'm guessing they might have bigger problems than a couple of civilians caught up in a riot. If we stay in here, we might get caught up in whatever's going on up there, but our best case scenario will still end up with us as prisoners. If we try to take advantage of the confusion and make it out now, we might get caught up in whatever's happening, we might end up prisoners, but if we get away, we'll be free. They don't have our fingerprints. They don't have our pictures or our names. I think we should try to get away.”
Jennifer considered what he was saying. Everything told her to stay where she was and put her faith in the system. Her whole life she'd trusted the system to guide and protect her.
But earlier that day, the system had shot her husband, hooded and dragged them both into a van, and dumped them unceremoniously in a prison cell. Any other day she'd have been a good girl and stayed put, but that day things were different. She looked up at her husband and nodded her head once, and the two of them stepped slowly out into the hall.
Ever since then they'd made their way down corridor after corridor, looking for stairways, elevators, exits, anything. So far they'd found offices and cells but no way out. As they spent longer and longer sneaking through the empty halls the tension continued to rise.
Occasionally they thought they heard the sound of gunfire. Sometimes it seemed to come from in front of them, sometimes behind them. Thomas wasn't sure they weren't just going in circles. Every door looked the same. Every time they stopped and looked around it seemed like the windowless walls and cold sterile floors were identical in every direction, and there were no signs to tell them where they were or where they were going.
Thomas knew that Jennifer would be close to panicking if he didn't figure something out soon, and he tried to portray a sense of confidence as he continued decisively down the long hallway they were in, the sickly yellowish lights lending a further sense of surrealism to their situation.
One of the doors suddenly swung open and Alexander's bodyguards spun to the noise with their guns drawn, ready to eliminate whatever the threat was. Only the fact that the guard was wearing his uniform and they were facing away from the door speaking with the President when he entered saved him from being shot down by the security team.
The guard was startled to see four very serious men pointing guns in his direction, and froze for a moment before remembering why he was there. “Mr. President, we have enemy hostiles in the facility. We've lost command and control, I can't raise the Warden or anyone in the administrative office and the locks on the cell doors have been released. We don't know how many there are, but they somehow managed to get past the front gates. We are trying to contain the situation, but until we do, it might be best if you stayed here with your security detail.”
The President looked back at de Vitoria. “Are these your men you sonofabitch? Someone's come to break you out?” He walked over to the chair de Vitoria was in and kicked it over on its side, sending the man crashing down into the floor.
Xavier looked up at the President with a rough laugh. “You killed my men. I don't have any others. Whoever is up there isn't there for me. Maybe they're here for you?”
The President snarled at the man laying there on his side, still shackled to the chair. How could he still be so arrogant, even in his predicament. He turned back to face the guard. “Get out there and get this situation under control soldier. And get somebody in here who knows what the hell is going on.”
The guard saluted the President and turned to step back out into the hall. Before he could leave, one of the bodyguards grabbed his upper arm and looked him in the eye. “Until this is under control we're shooting anyone who comes through that door. You make sure they knock first.” The guard nodded and then left the room. As soon as he did, one of the members of the security team stepped over to the President while the rest took up positions facing the two doors. He reached into his suit coat and removed a pistol, smaller than the one he held in his other hand. “Mr. President, I think you should hold on to this until we get out of here.”
The President looked down at the firearm for a second and then reached out and took it in his hand. “Goddamnit. This is a secret military installation. Who the hell is out there, and what are they planning?”
The five men moved deeper into the facility. The guards were beginning to put up more of an organized resistance, but so far they hadn't encountered anything that had slowed them down.
The subterranean levels of the facility were like a maze. Every door was unmarked and every hall looked the same. Gorsky had seen similar military prisons in his own country, had even spent some time in one for a few years, and knew that the uniformity of the aesthetic was itself a subtle security measure. Luckily, the men had memorized the layout of the facility and now that they knew where the prisoner was, they knew where the President would be.
As they moved closer to the holding cell designated on the security system as the location of the high value detainee they began to encounter other prisoners who had taken advantage of the confusion and decided to try to escape. The men simply ignored these prisoners, who invariably ran in any other direction as soon as they saw the team moving through the halls. The sight of five heavily armed men with the look of grim professionalism was enough to send the unarmed and shackled prisoners scrambling for somewhere else to be.
They knew that the President would have a security detail. Imalt's insider had informed them that he would have four servicemen with him, but there was no telling how many of the prison guards would also be with him. Each of the men knew that there was a limited time to finish their mission and escape, eventually even being locked out of their system wouldn't stop the guards from finding a way to get a message out. And once that happened, the combined military might of the nation would be on its way to the small secret facility in the desert to rescue the President.
They continued through the halls, deeper and deeper into the heart of the prison, ever closer to their target. Each of the men remained calm, carefully reloading their weapons in sequence and mentally preparing themselves for the final confrontation ahead of them.
With each door they passed, Alexander's fate drew inexorably closer.
Issacson ran into his lab and slammed the door behind him. “Initiate level 17 security protocols!” His voice was hoarse and he was barely able to croak out the words between gasping for air, but as soon as he did the door sealed itself shut. That would keep the guards out for now, but Issacson knew it wouldn't last. As soon as someone from the Board arrived they would be able to override his security clearance and then it would be over. Like a mouse in a maze, he had ran to the center of his world and there was nowhere left for him to go.
Issacson cast his eyes desperately around the room for a solution. Some way to escape, or even to get help. But there was nothing. Behind him he could hear the security officers pounding on the door and ordering him to release the locks. He looked around again. His terminals would be locked out from the network due to the level 17 security measures, and the frequency disruptors would prevent him from calling for help. There wasn't even anywhere to hide.
He quickly took stock of the contents of the lab. His terminals, the large table which took up half the room on which he worked. He thought for a moment about hiding under his desk, but immediately dismissed the idea. They'd find him no matter where he hid. The only other thing in the room was the prototype of the vessel they'd created for the second launch.
Issacson stopped and stared at the prototype.
When his Patriarch had come to visit him in his office he had told him it was fully functional. Issacson could set it to any time and date he wanted, any coordinates.
He had a way out, if only he could bring himself to use it.
He knew it was safe, he'd run the tests himself. But there was a big difference between sending a small vial or organic material and sending a man. An even bigger difference when you were that man. Issacson hesitated for a moment, considering his options, and that's when he realized the beating on the door had stopped.
He turned his head slightly and listened at the door. Beyond it, he could hear mumbling. There was only one reason they would stop trying to get him to open the door, they were waiting for a Board member.
Issacson ran over to the vessel and pulled it open, revealing the cavity inside. They had required enough space for the extra equipment that the Board had insisted be present, equipment Issacson now knew had been used to ignite a massive explosion in an attempt to prevent the Emancipation. But the prototype wasn't fitted with most of that equipment, and so in its place there was a cavity just big enough for a man to crouch in.
Behind him he heard the magnetic seal on the door release. They were coming in.
Issacson didn't have time to reset the coordinates on the vessel. With no options left, he crammed himself inside, pulled it closed behind him and activated the launch sequence towards the default destination.
The guards poured into the room and fanned out just as the door to the vessel slammed shut. Red followed close behind them and pointed to the prototype. “Get him out of there. That machine is property of PVP and Doctor Issacson is guilty of murder.”
But before any of them could move towards the vessel the room was flooded with a brilliant white light. The guards and the Board member who was with them all threw their hands up to shield their eyes, and by the time their vision cleared the vessel was gone.
Alexander stood the chair de Vitoria was in back up with the help of one of the bodyguards. De Vitoria looked at him quizzically. “A rare moment of humanity from a butcher such as yourself?”
Alexander was too concerned about what was happening beyond the door to the room to do anything but answer honestly. “Not at all. I just thought you might as well serve a purpose.” He crouched down behind de Vitoria, using him as a protective barrier between the main door and himself.
Xavier nodded his head. “Ah. Well, glad I could be of some use to you in the end.”
The body guards took up defensive positions around the room, preparing themselves in case anyone came through the door who wasn't on their side.
Every man there who didn't have his hands chained behind him had his finger on a trigger.
They arrived at the cell where they knew de Vitoria was being held. Imalt turned to face the rest of the team. “This should be it. Gerry, you're first inside.” The man dressed as a prisoner nodded his head and moved to the front. “When we go in, take out his team first. There are no exits from this room. No one leaves, no one lives. Understand?”
The rest of the men nodded their heads and took their positions at the door.
Every man there had his finger on a trigger.
Thomas and Jennifer moved down the hall, checking door after door. In order to be sure that they weren't moving in circles, they had begun opening every door and leaving it open, hoping that behind one they would find a stairwell.
They had to shuffle from door to door because their hands and feet were still shackled, and the clang which rarely resulted in their chains ringing against the cold tile floors sounded like cannon fire in their ears. Thomas was sure that any minute guards would show up and they'd be right back in their cells.
They moved down the hall, opening each of a row of doors, finding only what appeared to be empty interrogation rooms behind each one. Each room had a small table by the door, a window on one side of the room and another door on the other side.
They continued down the hall until they got to the last door.
Thomas carefully reached for the handle.
The guards tightened the grips on their pistols, ready to defend their President.
Imalt silently held up his fingers counting one, two, three, and the man dressed as a prisoner kicked open the door leading into de Vitoria's cell.
Chapter Nineteen
Singularity
Just as Thomas turned the handle to open the door to the holding cell, the door on the opposite side of the room came crashing open, and Gerry launched himself into the room, firing at the first of the Presiden't security detail he saw. The commotion drew the attention of the two men facing the door Thomas and Jenny were about to walk through, causing them to swing their guns around towards Grandon's team, which is the only thing that saved the lives of the couple.
Just as the rest of the team began pouring into the room there was a sudden flash of brilliant white light, blinding the unsuspecting assassins and bodyguards alike, who responded by firing indiscriminately in the direction of the threat they had been facing.
By the time their vision cleared, the room was filled with the stink of dying men, and what appeared to be a massive steel structure stood where there had been only emptiness moments before.
Chapter Twenty
The Aftermath
Then he recognized the man in the chair.
Thomas cried out. “No! Not you!” and rushed to the de Vitoria, who sat bleeding from several bullet wounds to his torso.
Xavier de Vitoria looked up from the bloody wreckage of his body into the eyes of a man he'd never met. Thomas reached out to him. “You can't die. I need you. You have to explain it to her.”
De Vitoria understood immediately what the man was asking him to do. He coughed wetly and responded in a weak voice. “I'm sorry son. I don't know you, but there's nothing I can do. I can't make people believe, I can only show them the way. And soon, I won't be able to do even that.” He coughed again before continuing, wet blood darkening his once tightly groomed beard. “It will be up to men like you now. You'll have to show her, and others. That's how it works.”
Thomas cried as he watched the man he'd rested his hopes on fading away before his eyes. He pressed his hands against the wounds to try to make the bleeding stop, but it just ran between his fingers and down the legs of the chair. “It has to be you. I put all my hope in you. What will I do if you die?”
Xavier looked into his eyes. “You can't put your hope in men. They let you down. All your hope has to be in yourself. There's no one else you have more influence over. Hope in yourself, and don't stop trying, and you will be freer by far than any man you meet.”
Thomas looked down at the man who had changed his life, the man he'd hoped could lead him, and realized that he'd missed a crucial point in that man's teaching.
It was not for men to lead, or to be led. It was for each man to live his own destiny, and to be an example for others. Not to shepherd them, but to teach them.
His tears abated as he looked down at the proud man, chained and bleeding and freer than any he'd ever known. He looked up for his wife, and found her kneeling at the side of the President.
Jennifer had run over to where James Alexander lay bleeding and had begun to rip the sleeves of his shirt in order to make bandages for his wounds, but she had quickly realized it would do no good. His injuries were far too extensive. He had been crouched behind de Vitoria when the shooting began, and the same bullets which had taken the life of the anarchist had passed through to the President.
She looked up from where he was laying, still struggling to breathe and caught the eye of her husband. He shook his head and began to move to her side when he felt something grab his pant leg.
He looked down and saw a man in a white lab coat, bleeding badly and clutching some kind of identification badge in his hands.
Gorsky looked around the room. Fourie was still alive, standing on the other side of the door with his weapon out, scanning for threats. Imalt was laying on the floor bleeding from a bullet wound to his mid torso that looked non-fatal, and the other two men who had come with them were dead.
Beyond that, the President's servicemen were all down, as well as Alexander and de Vitoria, and there appeared that someone had come out of the strange metal device which towered in the room. He had also been shot. There was also a man and a woman who had entered from across the hall. Prisoners by the looks of it, unarmed and shackled. Gorsky dismissed them immediately as beneath his notice.
Imalt struggled to push himself up to a sitting position. “Jobs over. Time to go. God damnit!” he exclaimed as he shifted his weight and fresh blood ran from the wound in his side. He pushed a finger into the hole and felt around. “Missed the lung and the stomach, knicked a rib. Hurts like hell but it won't kill me.” He rolled over onto all fours and began to slowly push himself up off the floor. “Let's make sure this is done and get out of here.”
Gorsky turned his rifle towards Imalt and squeezed the trigger, sending a short burst of rifle fire directly into his head and upper body. Imalt slammed wetly back into the tile floor, and the few people in the room still alive jumped at the sound. The woman screamed.
Fourie spun his weapon towards Gorsky and looked at him. “I don't think that was part of the plan bru. Looks like you have something else in mind. How's this go now?”
Gorsky looked at him calmly without raising his weapon. “You and I are professional. This can end one of two ways.”
Fourie gestured quickly with the point of his rifle towards Imalts quickly cooling body. “He was professional too. I see how it ended for him. I'm not dof. What you have in mind.”
Gorsky shook his head. “I have prior arrangement with my primary employer. The Legislator and I will be severing our relationship shortly comrade. Kevin would have gotten in the way. There was no need for him to leave this place. You? Is different. If you have no problem, I have no problem.”
Fourie kept his rifle pointed at Gorsky but slowly made his way towards where the woman sat on the floor near the dying president. The man crouched on the ground totally still, but the woman scrambled backwards and away as he came near her. His attention was totally focused on Gorsky however until he stopped at where the President lay, ignoring the woman completely. He looked at Gosky for a moment and then lowered the barrel of his rifle to point it at the President.
With a quick squeeze he sent a burst of fire into the President's head at point blank range. He then looked back up at Gorsky. “Way I see it my contract is fulfilled. Né?”
Gorsky nodded his head and moved towards the door he stood next to. “I'm heading to the van.” With that he backed slowly out the door and disappeared.
After he was gone, Fourie backed towards the door on the opposite side of the room and made his way out, leaving the man and the woman alone in the room with the dead, and one man still dying.
After the two remaining assassins left the room, Jennifer scrambled over to Thomas' side where he crouched listening to the man in the lab coat.
“Where am I? What year is it?”
Thomas thought the man must be delusional. “We're in some kind of military facility. The year is 2016.”
The man shook his head weakly. “The default setting. Of course. I'd heard that PVP was built on the site of a former government installation.”
The man wasn't making any sense. Thomas looked around at the massive steel construct that stood in the room. “What is that thing? Who are you?”
The man tried to hand Thomas his identification badge. It was smeared with blood from the man's hand, but Thomas could make out the name William Issacson under a picture of the man.
Issacson reached out and grabbed Thomas by the shoulder. “You have to go back through the vessel. You have to warn them.”
Thomas tried to shake the man's hand off. “Warn who? What are you talking about?”
Issacson tried to grip him as tightly as he could, but already the strength was draining from his body. “The badge. It's a recording device. I activated before the meeting. They caused the Devastation. You have to go back and warn them, or it will happen again.”
Thomas looked up from the man to the machine he'd apparently arrived in. Without looking down he asked the man. “What is it? Where will it take me?”
Issacson coughed and then quietly answered him. “It will take you into back to where I came from. Exactly one thousand years from now. You must climb in, and then activate the launch sequence. When you get there, show them the badge. Tell them what happened. Red killed him. Don't let him stop you, don't let him take it from you.”
He was trailing off at that point and kept repeating his warnings about someone named “Red,” but Thomas had more questions. “Who are they? Who's responsible for the Devastation? Who are you? What do you mean 1000 years?”
Issacson's eyes began to flutter and his hand fell from Thomas' shoulder. He weakly uttered a few more words. “The launch sequence. Once active, it's automated, but you must close the vessel and initiate the launch manually. If you don't go back, there will be a thousand more Devastations. A thousand more.” With that, his eyes closed again and he let out a slow sigh.
Thomas shook the man, trying to get him to respond but it was futile. There were only two people left alive in that room, himself and his wife, and he looked over at where the thing the doctor had called “the vessel” stood.
Jennifer followed her husband's gaze to the machine and then began shaking her head. “No Tommy. You can't. You can't leave me here alone. What if he was lying? What if you don't come back? You can't leave me here Tommy!”
Thomas turned to her and grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You heard him Jen. A thousand more Devastations. I don't know if it's true, I don't know if it'll work. But we can't leave without trying. It's not just us. You've seen the impact that one Devastation had on our world. We can't sit by if we could prevent it. I have to go Jen.” She began to cry and he pulled her in and held her tightly against his chest. “I'll come back for you. I promise.”
Thomas kissed her on the top of her head and then rose up and turned towards the machine. He slowly made his way over to it and then paused before stepping inside.
He looked over his shoulder at Jennifer, who sat on the ground and watched him. With a final nod of his head he turned back to face the machine.
He didn't know what he'd encounter when he stepped out of it, but he knew he had to take that chance.
“I don't want to be a leader. I don't want to be a hero. I just want to be free.”
And with those words he stepped into the machine and slowly pulled the door shut behind him.
