Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beth sank onto her narrow bunk in her stark cell and hugged herself.
Carter hates me.
His feelings had been revealed by the chips of ice in his eyes, his rigid posture, his cold tone. But he was alive! Alive! The other cyborg was, too. She hadn’t killed anybody. She could do somersaults in thin air.
However, her future remained bleak. Attempted murder and kidnapping would have serious consequences, and without understanding why she had committed those acts, she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t go berserk again. Her inability to speak her mind demonstrated she still couldn’t control her own body. She wished they’d let her see Dr. Swain. Maybe he could discover an answer.
To no avail, she’d tried spelling out Lamani on the table, but Carter hadn’t understood. He’d probably thought she was suffering hand tremors.
The loss of control worried her, but the knowledge Lamani was hiding on Terra, serving as the leader of the Association of Planets, was terrifying. She had to warn Carter.
The cell door slid open. Instead of a guard or the robo who delivered the meals, Carter entered, followed by Brock, Swain, and a Farian woman with metal wings. All four looked grim.
She stood and squeezed her hands together to quell the trembling. “What is it?” What have I done now?
Carter motioned. “Sit down, we need to talk.”
She perched on the edge. Her stomach churned.
Brock, Dr. Swain, and the Faria leaned against the wall. Carter surprised her by sitting at the other end of her bunk. He rested his elbows on his spread knees and laced his fingers. He stared at his feet for a moment then sighed and lifted his head. His face could have been carved from stone. “We figured out why you shot me and the security staff and abducted Mikala and Vincere.”
Was this another interrogation technique? The questioner pretends to have inside information to trick the suspect into a confession? It wouldn’t work on her because she had no clue! Or did he really have information? She swallowed. “Why, then?”
“You were programmed to do those things.”
Her jaw dropped. “I’m an android?” She couldn’t be. She was organic. Sentient. Wasn’t she?
“No. You’re human,” he said. “But, like a cyborg, you have a microchip in your brain. Clo-Ventures implanted it. In contrast to our processors, yours overrides your autonomy.”
She scanned his face. “You’re serious?”
He nodded.
“Why would Clo-Ventures do that?” Could they be correct? Could this be what had happened to her? She’d been conscious of her actions, but powerless to stop them. Her body had gone berserk, choking the guard, firing the blaster, forcing her to say what she had. It still overruled her actions and wishes. She could think Lamani’s name—Lamani, Benson is Lamani—but couldn’t force her mouth to speak it.
“I can’t share that information,” he said. “It’s classified, and as you are now, you’re a security risk.”
Her gaze flew to Dr. Swain. The sympathy in his eyes worried her more than Carter’s announcement. “B-but you scanned my head, a-a-and you said there wasn’t anything there. You didn’t see a chip…”
“It’s invisible to scanners,” Carter answered for Swain.
“Then, how do you know it exists?”
He motioned to the Faria. “Illumina discovered it. She’s a computer sensate. She has abilities no one else does.”
The idea seemed incredible, but it explained so much. She wasn’t the kind of person who tried to kill people!
The chip had to be what prevented her from saying Lamani’s name. Except…until recently, she had been able to speak it. She and Carter had talked about Lamis-Odg. The speech impediment hadn’t occurred until after she’d awakened on Lamani’s shuttle—after the terrorist had pointed his wrist comm at her, right before Cy-Ops charged in.
Lamani had done this. He realized we were about to be found so he made it so I couldn’t tell anybody the truth. “Can you remove the chip?”
“That’s why we’re here,” he said. “We’re asking for your consent to have Illumina try to erase the programming and render the chip harmless.”
“Do it. I’m ready.” She canted her head. “Try? You mean you’re not sure it can be done?”
“Theoretically, it can. I’ve altered, rewritten, and erased a lot of code,” Illumina spoke in a light, tinkling voice. “But not when it was inside a living being and…” She glanced at Carter.
He pressed his lips together. “We think the chip might be coded to self-destruct if it’s tampered with. An attempt to remove it could cause the program to execute. You could die.”
Her heart thudded. “What happens if it’s not removed?”
“Worst-case scenario, the destruct sequence might execute anyway. In any case, the program coding would remain operable and continue to override your choices. For your protection and the galaxy’s, we wouldn’t be able to allow you to go free. You’d be incarcerated for the rest of your life.”
“So my choices are death, death, or life imprisonment. And if Illumina can deprogram it?”
“We’ll release you,” Carter said. “You can get on with your life.”
Without him. Knowing that was like a little death in itself.
The choice was clear. She couldn’t live in fear she might snap or that the time bomb might detonate. More than her life was at stake. The galaxy was in danger. If Illumina could neutralize the chip, maybe Beth would be able to tell them what she knew about Benson.
“You have my consent.” She mustered her bravado. Doing the right thing didn’t mean it was easy. They’d given her no promises, no guarantees.
Carter nodded at the others and got to his feet. “I have to put you in electrocuffs while we move you to medical. If this goes as hoped, it will be the last time you’ll be restrained.”
“I understand.” Until they deactivated the chip, she posed a threat. She held out her wrists, and the electronic bands wound around them.
Swain and Illumina moved forward. “Let me explain what will happen,” the Faria said. “I’ll place my hand on your shoulder to facilitate psy-to-psy contact. After the connection is secure, I’ll interface with your neural pathways and find my way to the chip. Once there, I’ll integrate into the code, and switch off the cloaking.”
“Once the shield is down, I’ll be able to follow on the medscreen,” Dr. Swain said.
“Then I’ll erase the code,” Illumina added. “We’d considered switching it off, but that would leave open the possibility an electronic signal could switch it back on.”
“Once the chip is neutralized, I’ll give you a nanophage infusion,” Swain said.
“What’s that?”
“A special kind of nanocyte programmed to destroy. It’s harmless to everything except what it’s been coded to target. It will eradicate the neutralized microchip.”
“Why not give me an injection of nanophage instead of going through the uncloaking and erasing?”
“Until the chip is uncloaked, we can’t locate it or analyze it to program the nanophage. This is another reason why I’ll follow along on the medscreen. Once I have the coding and know what to target, I can develop a serum. Hopefully, it will work on the others without going through this entire process.”
“Others?” she asked. “There are more people with the chip?”
Carter looked grim. “Yeah.”
“I want the nanophages,” she said. “Get that thing out of my head.” She paused. “Will removing it hurt? Will I feel anything?”
“No,” Illumina answered. “If you were to remain alert, you might sense my presence and feel jittery, but Dr. Swain will sedate you so I can zero in on the chip.”
“Is there any risk to you?”
“I can’t say there isn’t, but I’m going to be very, very careful,” she replied.
They didn’t soft-pedal the truth, but the danger was greater than they shared. She pressed a hand to her throat as fear pulsed. Focus on what can go right, not what can go wrong. Dr. Swain will put me to sleep, and when I wake up, it will all be over. One way or another.
She peered up at Carter. “You’ll stay with me during the procedure?” Don’t leave. Hold me, please. She felt weak for needing him, ashamed for asking, aware her actions—even though they’d been involuntary—had changed everything. His demeanor hadn’t been unkind, but since he’d entered the room his manner was aloof, impersonal. She’d become a problem to be fixed, a burden added to his other responsibilities and pressures.
A trick of the light made his gaze appear tormented for an instant, but his face was expressionless, his tone devoid of emotion as he said, “I wish I could, but—”
“I understand,” she said hastily.
“You can stay with her, and I’ll go—” Brock offered.
“No, it’s all right.” Her face burned. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Still a prisoner, she had no business requesting special treatment, wishing for him to hold her hand, to hug her and promise everything would be okay, that they would be all right, that the chip in her head that had forced her do terrible things hadn’t destroyed their love.
“I’ll stay until the procedure is completed,” he said. “There will still be time to do what I need to do.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m staying,” he said.
She pressed her bound wrists against her abdomen, feeling guilty for keeping him, but relief washed over her. She wouldn’t be alone. Well, Swain and Illumina, maybe Brock, would be there, but their interest was professional. Carter was the first and only person to have cared about her. They’d been friends as well as lovers, and while the latter could no longer be, maybe friendship would survive. Perhaps he retained some residual feelings of concern. For whatever had convinced him to stay, she was grateful.
* * * *
Swain, Brock, and Illumina marched on ahead to the medbay. Carter followed, escorting Beth. He wished he could offer reassurance, but he couldn’t mislead her. So much could go wrong. During the procedure, the programming could execute, and she could die. If Illumina couldn’t erase it, Beth would have to remain a prisoner, and the chip could kill her later.
He didn’t doubt once Lamani learned his secret weapon had been exposed, he would activate the destruct sequence. The terrorist hadn’t hesitated to kill Cornelius. They had to locate the other clones, bring them into protective custody, and deactivate the chips. For that, he had to get with Vincere and secure his cooperation. Several sleeper clones worked for him.
Of late, Vincere had shown a willingness to cooperate, and if he knew the stakes, he could help Cy-Ops tremendously. A skilled diplomat, he could smooth ruffled feathers and help them quash the news of the disappearance of several hundred people so Lamani didn’t find out until everyone was safe.
Every minute of delay afforded the terrorist an opportunity to unleash the clones on the galaxy or kill them. Carter needed to brief Vincere and get him on board asap but couldn’t refuse Beth.
Sure you don’t want me to meet with Vincere? Brock asked.
No. It’s time to tell him about Cy-Ops, and the information needs to come from me. Vincere wasn’t the bad guy. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but Cy-Ops and the Association of Planets had to start working together. Once I’ve met with him, I’ll ping you. I’ll head up the team to bring in the sleeper clones.
The individuals would react with shock and disbelief. Many would resist; those would have to be taken by force.
He could have assigned another cyborg to take the lead, but Lamani had done harm to the woman he loved. This was personal. He wanted the satisfaction of thwarting his latest act of terror. My goal is to round them up in a couple of days.
When are you meeting with Vincere?
After the chip is erased—once I know she’s okay.
Anything I can do while you’re gone?
Yeah. Take care of her. Reassure her she’s not a prisoner, but for her own safety while I’m away, she needs to remain at Cy-Ops headquarters.
He cringed at his cold, harsh interrogation, for not believing her. She’d been locked in solitary, and her wrists were bound. He couldn’t tell her where he was going or even that he was leaving. The chip could be transmitting data to Lamani. He doubted it could penetrate the firewall without the passwords, but they couldn’t be sure. None of this was her fault, and he ached for her.
Arriving at the medbay, he motioned for Beth to stay and the others to enter. “Give us a moment.” When they were alone, he said, “I’m sorry for the way things worked out.”
“I’m sorry, too, so sorry.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached with bound hands to brush them aside. “If-if this doesn’t work, it’s still a relief to understand why it happened.”
The procedure has to work. It has to. His heart constricted. “When this is all over, we’ll talk.”
“We need to,” she said. “I have to tell you…what happened on Benson’s ship,” she said slowly as if choosing every word. “W-what he told me.”
Curious, he asked, “What did he tell you?”
“That he is…he is—dammit!” She punched the air with her bound hands.
The door slid open, and Swain poked his head out. “Time is critical…we should get started.”
He nodded, and Swain ducked back inside.
“He’s right,” he said quietly.
“I’m ready.” She straightened her shoulders. “You don’t have to stay with me. You have important things to do. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot.”
“I’m staying.”
The stark, sterile pod had been prepped and readied, its transparent lid retracted. Swain waited at the medscreen. Brock stood next to Illumina whose eyes were closed while she took slow deep breaths, preparing herself.
Carter released the restraints and squeezed her cold fingers. “I’ll be with you the whole time,” he murmured. He helped her into the unit, and moved around to the left side.
“We’ll get this taken care of, and everything will be fine.” Swain smiled. “First, I’ll administer a sedative. The lid to the pod will close. You’ll feel sleepy almost immediately, and you’ll drift off within a few minutes. Once you’re asleep, we’ll begin. Any questions?”
“N-no.”
A robotic arm swiveled out from the wall and pressed an injector to her neck. She jerked.
“Did that hurt?” Swain asked.
“Surprised me.”
With a hum, the transparent lid closed.
Use the pockets if you want to hold her hand—but she’ll fall asleep fast, Swain said.
Carter reached for Beth’s hand. She latched on, but her eyelids were beginning to droop already. He smoothed his thumb over her skin. His heart thudded. I love you. I’ll never leave you. He wanted to promise her the world, that they’d be together always, but if this didn’t work—
Think positive. This has to work.
Illumina was the best computer expert Cy-Ops had, but she hadn’t dealt with this scenario before. She had to find, uncloak, and erase a Lamis-Odg coded chip. Three steps, three uncertainties, three chances to fail.
Beth’s eyes shuttered, her chest lifted and fell, and her hand went limp.
“She’s asleep,” Carter said.
“I see that.” Swain peered at his screen. “You should break contact now…just in case.”
Reluctantly, he eased his hand out of the pod.
The computer hummed, and a blue light crawled over her body. “I’ve pulled up her scan from before to compare to now.” Swain squinted at his screen. “No change. Bioreadings appear normal. Okay, Illumina, you’re up.”
The Faria flexed and refolded her wings. Her face as blank as slate, she trod lightly to the pod. She slipped a slender wrist through a pocket and rested her hand on Beth’s shoulder. She glanced between Swain and Carter. “I’ll try to keep you informed as I go along. I’ll be able to speak to you, but it’s best if you don’t reply so I can keep my focus.”
“Got it.” Carter nodded.
After several deep breaths, she closed her eyes.
A minute ticked by with excruciating slowness. His gaze shifted between the two women, trying to get a read. Beth slept. Her face was serene and relaxed. So was Illumina’s, but then the Faria lifted her chin. Her eyes flickered under closed lids. “I’m in,” she said in a low voice. “I’m following a neural pathway to the brain.”
In the quiet of the medbay, the air unit feeding oxygen into the room hummed. His nerves frayed. It went against the grain to relinquish control, but he trusted Illumina, and she offered Beth’s only hope for life or freedom.
“Approaching the brain,” she said ten minutes later. “Entering gray matter now.”
Can you see anything? He shot a message to Swain with an open link to Brock.
Nothing that shouldn’t be there. If you’re asking if I’m getting any readout as to Illumina’s presence, the answer is no.
He studied Beth’s face. Still relaxed.
Illumina’s eyes fluttered as if in REM, her forehead creasing into a deep furrow. “I think…wait…” She nodded. “I’ve located the chip behind the prefrontal cortex. Scanning before I move in.”
Swain squinted and shook his head. Nothing.
Cybermedicine had no recourse with a shielded implant. If not for Illumina, Beth and the other sleeper clones wouldn’t have had a chance.
“Interesting…” Illumina said. “Crafty, but not original. Lamis-Odg has bastardized the coding masking spaceship signatures. The shielding signal it emits would cause some painful neural flashes.”
Like headaches, he thought.
“Switching off the cloaking…now. You should be able to view the chip and the coding on your medscreen.”
There it is. Swain sighed. I can’t believe I missed it.
Carter craned his neck to check out the monitor. A dot smaller than a fully constricted pupil or a freckle appeared on the screen. Gray, like the tissue around it, the chip was camouflaged visually as well as digitally. You can’t blame yourself. If a spaceship can disappear, no way could you have detected a shielded object that small.
Brock peered over Swain’s shoulder. Can you magnify it?
Doing it now. The image enlarged eight times, showing its circuitry. Numbers, the chip’s program codes, streamed below it. I’ll begin the nanophage programming…”
A mere ten minutes had passed since Illumina had begun the integration, but time dragged. If she hadn’t been updating them, he would have been climbing the walls. Brock and Swain looked equally edgy. Beth slept, oblivious to the tension.
“I’m inside the coding, checking for a destruct sequence,” she said.
Carter joined Brock in pacing the small room. Come on, Illumina, come on.
Swain minimized the visual of the chip, allowing its program code to fill the screen. His gaze glued to numbers. There it is! Swain pointed to a string of ones and zeroes the same time that Illumina said, “Found it.”
Suspecting a kill switch was one thing, but having it confirmed hit him like a body blow. His microprocessor reeled off a visual of Cornelius convulsing then dying. He blocked it. That couldn’t happen to Beth. It couldn’t!
Eyes still closed, but moving rapidly, Illumina stretched her wings. She inhaled a deep breath then let it out. “Okay…I’m going to try to shut it down…”
He and Brock crowded behind Swain. Ones and zeroes streamed. As they watched, the numbers began to reverse, zeroes turning to ones, and ones to zeroes. Still relaxed in sleep, Beth’s face reflected no sign of the activity occurring in her brain.
The last sequence of numbers reversed. “Self-destruct is off,” Illumina said.
Carter broke into a relieved grin. He glanced at the other two cyborgs. They were smiling, too. Two steps complete, one more to go. The deactivation of the destruct sequence boded well that all the coding could be erased.
“I’m going to poke around a little. See what’s here before I attempt to delete the code,” the Faria said. “Hmm…that’s interesting…”
Long seconds passed.
What? Dammit, tell us! Carter shot his exclamation to the other cyborgs, releasing his frustration. The last thing he wanted was to cause Illumina to lose focus, but she was killing him.
“The original program was rewritten extensively via HT, holographic transmission, two months ago on the twenty-second of August,” Illumina said.
Just after she’d been shot. Beth had been at Aym-Sec while he and Brock had gone on the mission in which he’d been stabbed with the poisoned bayo-blaster.
That’s the day she fainted in the cafeteria, Swain said.
The firewall would have blocked any HTs, Brock pointed out.
Could she have received a holo disc? Swain asked.
Actually, she did, Brock said. We searched her office after the abduction at the Summit, and found a couple—one from Mikala, one from Vincere—but they were just get-well messages. The messages had been erased, but we were able to recover them.
The disc may have been intercepted by someone. Programming could have piggybacked onto the holo message, Carter said.
Like a Trojan horse, Brock said. Primitive.
But, in this case, effective.
In the infancy of the computer age, hackers emailed malware disguised as legitimate software. When the program was opened, the hacker gained remote access to the user’s computer. If Beth had opened an infected message, which had sent a signal… Examine both holosticks again, Carter instructed.
Will do, Brock said.
“Here goes,” Illumina said. “I’m deleting the code now.”
New sequences of ones and zeroes flowed across the monitor 001 001 110 011 001 111 001…Then, like the numbers were gobbled up, they began to disappear until every last digit vanished, leaving a blank blue screen.
“Done,” Illumina said.
Carter exhaled his relief.
Swain spoke aloud, “I should have the nanophage completed—”
Beth let out a gasp, a harsh wheezing sound.
“Oh shit!” Swain swore.
“What’s going on—” Carter demanded. “What is that?”
Numbers flashed across the screen in an angry march.
“It’s the destruct sequence. It’s been activated!” Swain said. Beth’s mouth gaped trying to suck air as her body thrashed on the bed. “She can’t breathe. The programming is preventing oxygen from getting to her blood. The destruct code is suffocating her…”
Illumina’s eyes flew open. The Faria began to gasp.
“Do something!” Carter shouted. Beth’s face was turning blue, and Illumina had grayed.
“I am,” Swain said. A robotic arm sprang out of the wall and delivered an injection into Beth’s neck. “Oxygen replacement. Direct to the bloodstream.”
“Illumina, get out,” Carter ordered, his heart shattering. He was losing Beth, but he couldn’t let the Faria die with her.
“No,” the Faria gasped. She’d lost luminosity, her skin and hair dulling from silver to ash. “I…will…finish.”
“Get out. That’s an order!”
Another robotic arm emerged, and, this time, injected Illumina.
A zero flipped to a one. Then another reversal. A one to a zero. The string of numbers altered a digit at a time, as if Illumina had to change each one individually.
Too slow! It’s too damn slow. Beth, and Illumina herself, could die before the Faria finished. Hurry! Hurry!
Blue tinged Beth’s contorted face. Still under sedation, she was oblivious to the life-and-death struggle. Her body thrashed. Harsh, wheezing, pain-filled gasps emerged from her throat. The medibot shifted between the two women, continuing to pump with them with oxygen.
More numbers flipped, faster now. Beth’s labored respiration calmed, becoming more productive, allowing her to draw air into her starved lungs. The blueness receded to a healthier tone.
Illumina’s glow began to return. Grayness silvered again, and her gasps gentled into steady breaths. “I think…I think… I’ve got it.”
The last of the numbers switched over then the entire sequence flashed and blanked out.
Beth released a shuddering sigh, and her chest expanded and released. Her face relaxed into the serene countenance of sleep.
Carter held his breath. His heart pounded.
Illumina opened her eyes. “It’s done. A redundancy was built in. A backup destruct sequence activated when the coding was deleted, but the chip is harmless now.”
“Good work,” Carter said. “Thank you.” She’d disobeyed a direct order, but how could he take her to task for saving Beth’s life? Especially when any of his cyborgs would have done the same. When he would have. He would have died before giving up. “Thank you.”
“Let’s not take any chances,” Swain said. “I’m giving Beth the nanophage serum now.” The robotic arm delivered two injections.
Swain called up the screen with the image of the now-inert chip and zoomed out to show the brain tissue around it. In seconds, nanophages converged on the spot. They looked like vibrating grains of sand as they surrounded the target. Attacked by the nanophages, the chip continued to shrink until it disappeared altogether. The microbots dispersed.
“What will happen to them?” Carter asked.
“They’ll become inert in a day or two, filter through the kidneys, and her body will eliminate them.” Swain retracted the pod’s transparent cover.
Carter brushed Beth’s damp hair away from her face and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “It’s all over. You’ll never have to worry again.” He lifted his head and met Swain’s gaze. “How long before she comes out of sedation?”
“About an hour.”
“I need to leave.” He hated to go, but the safety of the galaxy demanded it. Others, just like Beth, were in danger. “Tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Of course,” Swain replied. “I’ll get to work on a serum to eradicate the chips in one step. How many vials will we need?”
“Three hundred fifty,” Carter said. That’s how many sleeper clones were on the list.
“More,” Illumina disagreed. “Two hundred-plus more. Besides the sleepers we know about, another 226 clones are gestating at Clo-Ventures. We have to assume some of them—maybe all of them—have been implanted.”
“There’s your number—576,” Carter said.
He pressed one last kiss to Beth’s cheek. “Bye, honey. I love you. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”