Subversive Elements (Unreal Universe Book 2) Read online

  Personally, the mayhem going on all around him was the gonzo madness he loved; distant memories of going to WWE wrestling matches as a kid with his old man filled him for an all-too brief moment. Garth smiled mistily at half-formed memories of King Kong Bundy’s immense size and Rowdy Roddy Piper’s damnfool antics.

  Soon, soon he’d be inside Bravo and his life –his memories- would return. Until then, the Latelian number one pastime would fill the void.

  The Game wasn’t at the point where each match would closely parallel those ancient WWE spectacles, not yet; much of what was happening was akin to college wrestling or ultra-dry competition rounds, but that lack of excitement was more than made up for by idiots running around with underwear on their heads. If you couldn’t have a lot of fun watching what was on the Sheets, you could find yourself having a food fight in the stands.

  Finally! It was his turn. He picked a flaming red finger for himself and a soft orange big foamy hat for Naoko. Cradling his precious foamy toys in his hands, Garth started moving back towards Naoko when something unexpected happened.

  For a brief second -almost too quick to count but undeniable all the same- time skipped. The hairs on the back of Garth’s neck stood straight up as he slowly turned around in a circle.

  Someone or something in the room was trouble on the go, trouble dangerous enough to override the now-familiar concern over God soldiers, trouble severe enough to bring death and disaster on grand scale. He grunted. It was a real piss-off Bravo hadn’t landed in a system where people liked to have sex outdoors all the time and were super nice to strangers.

  Because of the press of bodies around him, it took a few extra seconds of careful scrutiny, but Garth eventually found the source of his dis-ease; lounging almost too comfortably in the nosebleed sections were six people who were ‘doing nothing at all, no need to look over here’. Garth knew that posture well. He adopted it whenever he was in a crowd of more than two people.

  Standing idly, pretending to fiddle with his purchases, Garth swiveled himself around until he could watch the six without having to be too obvious about what he was doing. Up above, one of the men nudged the man sitting next to him. Someone handed over a pair of field binoculars.

  In an arena like this one, binoculars weren’t out of place, but the sight of them sent a thrill down Garth’s back. He followed the man’s line of sight, cursing when he saw yet another Latelian -this one a woman- dressed in wet-weather clothing. She was hauling a heavy looking duffel bag slung across one shoulder and was moving her way patiently –and far too carefully, for the venue- through the crowd. A small child ran smack into the carryall and fell flat to the ground, wailing loudly and kicking his feet. Without pausing to check on his condition or to apologize to the kid’s parents, the woman pushed through a small knot of young adults and vanished into the crowd.

  He’d never seen a Latelian show such distinct lack of concern, unless they were heavily preoccupied with something else.

  “Fuck me sideways.” Garth stuck the foam finger between his legs and jammed the hat onto his head. He looked over at Naoko. She was involved in a conversation on her prote, giving him some much-needed time.

  He waddle walked behind one of the support columns. Free from prying eyes, Garth booted up his prote’s security avatars and scrolled through until he found what he was looking for: a folder labeled ‘ILM’. A reasonable precaution given how intense security-minded people like OverCommander Vasily could be, ILM wouldn’t draw any attention to itself and housed a much-improved version of the Harry Bosch simulation program.

  Packing state-of-the-art holographic emitters tweaked by his very own special brand of super-tech insanity, Odin was capable of mapping that same hologram over his own body and with such precision, that someone would have to reach out and touch him for the illusion to break. As with everything he’d altered since waking up ten years ago, the tech for such encompassing holograms had been present in Latelyspace all along, it was just a matter of fresh eyes and out-of-the-box thinking.

  Garth chewed at his lip. He’d originally redesigned the Bosch interface to be his disguise whilst he engaged in various nefarious activities, but as with everything in Latelyspace, you rolled with the punches or you got punched out. He flicked his fingers across a few keys and Bosch started compiling.

  There was no way to know precisely what was going to happen, but Garth knew the feeling in his gut and along his spine all too well.

  Misfortune loomed on the horizon, an ugly blot on the day’s festivities.

  An immediate and distinct choice faced him. Either he could hustle Naoko out of The Museum and they could watch whatever drama unfolded inside from safety or he could attempt … attempt something foolish.

  Images of the spaceport, of the carnage his and Ashok’s comingled deviousness had perpetrated, flashed through his mind. He’d been so reckless, so … bloody. That Bravo was at least partially responsible for his heavy-handed and very nearly maniacal response to the threats Hospitalis represented had no effect on his ever-growing guilt. Neither did Lisa’s revelation that Trinity had intentionally maneuvered him into becoming the bastard known as ‘The Specter’ across the Cordon. He’d willingly followed that path to its conclusion. If he hadn’t, if he’d figured out some way to survive Special Services without succumbing to Trinity’s evils, Bravo wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, driven his actions here in Latelyspace with such ruthlessness.

  No. He wasn’t going to leave The Museum. He did some math, using his long, storied experience in SpecSer and came up with an approximate number of men and women you’d want to have at your command to take a place like The Museum over. He groaned. No less than a hundred.

  If he was going to take The Museum, he’d have it set up so that people would find it difficult -if not downright impossible- to leave. Attempting to shuffle Naoko out could very well precipitate the beginning of the end. The same with stuffing her in a broom closet: there’d be folks looking for that sort of thing.

  Anything he thought he might try relied on secrecy, on remaining as unnoticed as a world-famous superhero could be, whilst also being at least a foot and a half smaller than everyone else in the room.

  It was going to be hard, the dual tasks of stopping whatever was going to happen in The Museum and keeping Naoko safe, but Latelyspace needed repayment for his earlier, tragic excesses.

  It was the right thing to do, even if he died in the process. He could do it.

  He hoped.

  “Looks like you’re gonna get a different sort of field test, old buddy.” The Bosch avatar completed cycling up, and he frowned at the readouts. According to the program, a minimum of half an hour’s worth of kinesthetic data was required for effective full body rendering.

  Not being able to hide Naoko or to get her outside meant The Museum tour with Naoko was going to have to continue. As much as the thought of endangering Naoko’s life made him sick to his stomach, by that very same token he couldn’t condone risking upwards of six thousand lives. The least he could do –if he could arrange it- was get the two of them to an out-of-the-way place and explain, as quickly and succinctly as possible, what was happening. Naoko was a smart girl; she’d grown up on Hospitalis. She’d understand the dangers.

  Fixing a smile on his face, Garth jammed the foam finger over his hand and hurried back out to Naoko.

  xxx

  “What took you so long?” Naoko warily eyed the orange foam hat perched on Garth’s head. With everything that was going on, she desperately hoped Garth didn’t notice how close to tears she was. “I certainly hope you didn’t buy that for me, sa.”

  “Why not?” Garth poked her with the giant finger. “Your top is the same exact color. It matches.” He poked her again to distract her; from his position, he saw the woman with the bag out of the corner of his eye. She was making her way up the opposite stairs, her destination almost certainly the knot of men. He prayed Naoko didn’t notice he was distracted. He poked her again, chuckling.
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  Naoko considered the foam hat seriously, hands planted on her hips. Blinking back her tears, she smiled and held her hands out. “It does, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure as he… you bet your a… uhuh, yep.” Garth took the hat off and handed it to Naoko, saying, “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, si. I got it because where I come from, we buy things to mark the occasion. Either that or we smoke cigars. Same thing.”

  Naoko accepted the hat graciously, curtseying charmingly for him. She removed her hair ties, shook her hair loose of kinks, and handed Garth the ties. The she began the laborious process of getting the hat on properly. When she was done, she posed arms akimbo. “What do you think, sa?” Funnily enough, the hat made her feel better.

  “I think,” Garth said with all sincerity, “that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” He stuck Naoko’s hair ties into a pocket.

  Now that he’d marked the woman and the bag –which had to be full of guns or something equally destructive- he didn’t need to follow with his eyes. He could feel her progress up the stairs. She was definitely angling her way towards the six men.

  “That is two compliments in …” Naoko checked her prote, “less than twenty minutes. Are you trying to woo me, sa?”

  “Is it working?” Poking her with the giant finger once more, Garth used Naoko’s peal of laughter to disguise a blatant look at the bleachers; just because he didn’t need to see them didn’t mean he didn’t want to see them.

  As expected, the bag-carrying Latelian was now sitting directly behind the man with the field glasses. They were having a quiet but very intent discussion that wouldn’t look at all suspicious to anyone except him.

  Naoko smiled softly, her eyes twinkling. “Perhaps.” She indicated two empty seats near where they stood. “Did you want to sit?”

  Thinking of the avatar’s kinesthetic needs, Garth wrinkled his nose. “Nahh, it’s kind of noisy here, isn’t it?” He threw his hands in the air at Naoko’s confusion. “Don’t get me wrong, any time I’m not with you, this is where I’ll be.” He laughed suddenly, pointing down towards the front row. “Is that guy not wearing pants? Is that legal?”

  “If he doesn’t put them back on in a few moments, an employee will send one of the guards out to enforce the decency laws. If he is very unlucky, the Curator will see to him.” Naoko slipped her hand into Garth’s and they started towards an exit labeled ‘The Hall of Warriors’.

  Garth craned his head surreptitiously towards the cluster of Latelians.

  They were up to no good. He’d stake his life on it.

  More importantly, he’d stake all their lives on it.

  xxx

  Up in the balcony, Si Mary gave Sa Vilmos an update on their progress. Since The Museum was currently connected to government servers to reduce the load capacity, there was no point in risking communication over lines that watchful avatars could compromise in seconds.

  “We’ve made our way into secured sections without incident, Vilmos.” Mary said, leaning forward and whispering softly into his ear.

  Vilmos grunted as he trained his glasses on a couple leaving the Room. He thought he recognized the Offworlder as Garth Nickels and was displeased; a cocky ex-soldier from Trinity could prove troublesome.

  He mentioned none of this to Coreman; the man would only panic at the news and kick-start the events. If it was Nickels, and the man did indeed start causing problems, he’d be easy enough to deal with, and would serve as an excellent focal point for some of the arguments he intended on making. “Keep an eye on those two. They’re going to be somewhere in The Tomb.”

  “Will do.” Coreman got out of his chair and took the steps three at a time until he got to the main level, where he slowed to a casual-but-intent meander that took him unerringly towards The Tomb entrance.

  “The other cells are situating themselves properly as we speak.” Mary continued after reading an alert on her prote. “That’ll bring us up to a hundred strong. I’ve got a small pack of the weapons they brought with them. The heavy ammunition and other equipment is just now being secured. No one suspects anything.”

  “How long until the underground loading bays are secured?”

  Mary looked at her proteus. “Should be any minute now. The boys were just finishing up when I came to let you know.”

  Vilmos nodded, pleased. Everyone was following the timetable perfectly. “And the techs?”

  “Any time. They were setting up when I checked in.”

  “Excellent.” Vilmos handed the field glasses back to Erich. “When we’ve got control of the system, remind the techies that the external gates and window plates need to be wired to the all-points warning Doans will issue. It’s the only way she’ll understand.”

  “Roger.” Mary noted that down on her proteus. “Our demolitions man is busy placing the triggers and bombs now. Shouldn’t take more than another half an hour to get all the exits wired. They’ll be configured to let people in and out until the gates close. Once that happens, they’re armed. When the Goddies come through, each bomb’ll take at least one, maybe two, in the blast.”

  “Will breaking through the duronium blast doors set them off?” Vilmos didn’t like this part of the plan; in his mind, anything crossing through the beams would set the explosives off, no matter how hard he tried to think otherwise. “I don’t want that second brace of arches to come down with no God soldiers in the mix, Mary.”

  Mary fought the urge to groan.

  “And civilians?” Vilmos asked.

  Mary shrugged. “Casualties of war, sa. You know that.”

  Vilmos grunted again. “Of course I do. I was making sure you hadn’t forgotten. This entire structure needs to come down and the blame needs to rest at Doans’ feet if the sheep are to realize just how deadly her paradigm shift will be. We cannot fail, Mary. Trinity spells the end for our people. We need a dictator, not a bureaucrat.”

  Mary slid the backpack over to Vilmos. Inside were four collapsible sniper rifles and an even dozen stolen God soldier-issued laser pistols. An unexpected last minute boon, one that would make their message even louder. “I’ll return once I’ve gotten updates from our explosive specialist and the techies.”

  “Do that, si, do that.” Vilmos turned his attention back to the crowds down below. According to The Museum systems, there were eight thousand men, women and children down there, all having the time of their lives, with more filtering in every second.

  Certainly, a terrible loss of life, but when you looked at what was coming for them thanks to the Chairwoman and her incessant dealings with Trinity... well, those were hardly lives at all.

  xxx

  The Philosophical Brotherhood’s tactical squad team waited patiently in line, squabbling amongst themselves as to what they imagined was going to go down once they got inside the building.

  Unlike their counterparts, they made no effort to keep themselves distanced from one another, or to appear as anything other than what they were. They were smart enough to conceal their weapons, though, and when they got to the entrance, they nodded knowingly to a young man behind the counter, who turned off the metal detectors and let them pass. The young man waited for the last of the brethren to pass, put a ‘closed’ sign up and went home seven hours early.

  Other than the Leaders, most of the faithful were under thirty, making them utterly influenced by what they saw on the Screens. As such, while they bickered and gossiped about what awaited them, they had little awareness that they were scripting an episode of GodSquad, the world’s most popular show.

  Even Tommy -normally very cool-headed for all his fiery ideas in bringing the word of the Lord to the uninitiated- wrapped himself in the fantasy they were spinning. It didn’t cross their minds that their faith, while good for things spiritual, wouldn’t protect them from the slaughter that waited.

  The brothers and sisters of Faith fanned out once the last of them were through the gates, at last showing common sense. The security consci
ous amongst them double-checked the point-to-point line-encryption software provided by Green, ensuring that the building’s scanners wouldn’t pick up their chatter. When the tests came back positive, the group spread further out intending on making their way down into the storage areas to wait for their moment.

  Their moment of glory!

  xxx

  When he was certain the young fella-me-lad he was following had no interests in double-checking his work, Chad sauntered up to the small explosive device, curious to see how the competition worked. He eyed the device thoughtfully while managing to seem as though he was merely leaning against the wall.

  For a Latelian it wasn’t bad. Possibly, they weren’t as gormless as he’d initially believed: it was a very tricky bomb indeed. People like himself could go in and out and all around the whole Museum without ever once setting it off because a small transceiver sticking out the side told Chad that the device awaited some sort of trigger. Once the trigger command was received, the device would be armed, turning the outermost section of The Museum into a deathtrap.

  Some button pushing on Bolo’s old proteus and head scratching by Chad revealed that the activation sequence was an all-point alert, with the Chairwoman herself apparently being the only one who could issue such a directive. Bolo’s proteus didn’t say what that order or warning could be, but Chad was no fool; whatever it was, it’d be quite spectacular.

  How very exciting. Whatever the terrorists were planning, it was going to be spectacular. Chad found himself hoping Garth was going to be up to the challenge.

  Bolo’s proteus –becoming more and more impressive with each passing moment- spat out further information on the explosive device, forcing Chad to grudgingly recognize true professionalism where none had been expected; this bomb –and presumably the others- were primed to detonate only when a God solider sallied forth through the arches. Such an efficient method of dealing with the heavily cyborged and genetically modified soldiers, it seemed pointless when one considered that once the bomb went off, all anyone would have to do was climb over the blobby corpse.