Code Breakers Complete Series: Books 1-4 (40 page)

A knock came on the door, Gerry tensed, fearful their exchange had been heard; fearful the torturers from the next cell were now on their way to deal with him.

Gabe spun, looked at the door, and quickly turned back. In a hurried whisper he said. “They want the servers, man. They already got Old Grey. That’s why they’re torturing Bilanko. They want the other one, the backbone, the one Len was protecting. When he died, his people went underground, off the grid, became ghosts. Don’t tell ‘em anything, man, we can’t afford this lot getting both together.”

“Why? Why are they so important to them?”

“They work together, to create AIs. I can explain more later, but Natalya found a transmission from an AI via one of The Family’s satellites. Damn thing communicated with ‘er. Told ‘er all about the servers. S’why Len was protecting it, man. They call it Omega. Its Old Grey’s twin.”

“Why the need to destroy them, though?”

“As good as they are creating AIs they can destroy ‘em, too. This AI entity wants the Red Widows to help destroy them, so they won’t be a threat to it no longer.”

Gerry instantly thought of the thing that attacked him on his way out of the station. Was it the same one? It made sense. Being out there, close to the satellites. Perhaps it is within The Family’s system of satellites the entity resides. “Where is the AI? Is it the same one I destroyed back at City Earth?”

“Nah, man, this is something else. Something far worse.”

A knock, more urgent this time, rapped at the door.

Gabe stepped back. “Look, I’m sorry about this.”

“About what?”

Gabe punched Gerry in the face, breaking his nose, splattering his face with blood.

“Argh! Motherfuc—” Gerry rocked in the chair, squeezed his eyes shut at the pain, tried not to choke on the blood that dripped down the back of his throat. He could taste it now on his lips as it gushed from the snapped cartilage and bone.

Gabe reached behind Gerry’s head and switched off the EMP disruptor device stuck in his spinal column.

“Has the buzz gone?” Gabe whispered quickly.

Gerry nodded, felt his AIA and various internal systems reset and start their boot process. As if switching on a light in a dark room he felt connected again. Could sense all the nearby computers, the various nodes, even the familiar banks of computers he’d destroyed the last time he was here, and for a brief moment he senses the slick digital probing from Bilanko, but it was far weaker than the last time she got into his head. She tried to send him a message, an appeal for help. He couldn’t respond. His systems were not fully capable yet.

Bilanko’s cell door slammed, and the voices from her torturers grew louder as they approached. An electronic lock within his door clunked.

Gabe looked at the door then back to him and slapped him hard again, smearing more blood across his face. Gerry’s head throbbed with pain. His eyes filled with water, so that when the door opened and two women came in, he couldn’t quite make out what they held in their hands, only that it gleamed under the white lights.

They exchanged words with Gabe, and together, all three laughed.

Blinking the tears from his eyes, Gerry watched Gabe leave the room, but before he exited completely he looked back at Gerry from between the two women, and mouthed, ‘Sorry’.

One of the Widows leaned into Gerry, smiled a grim smile, her teeth rotten and black, and her breath equally foul. The cold and wet touch of a blade pushed against Gerry’s throat as she spoke low and threatening. “You tell us what we want, you no die slow death. Understand?”

Chapter 15

At 21:35, under the cover of darkness, Sasha cruised the new sub out of Criborg’s wet-lab, and descended ten meters before turning and heading east out of the Wake Island compound, to the ejector seat’s distress signal.

This is so damned cool, Sasha said to herself as she sat back in the comfy bucket seat, her hands poised in front of the holographic controls. She watched in awe at the rainbow of colours in the reef and the variety of species that swam in and out of the swaying plants and rocks, all illuminated by the sub’s lights. She took it slowly over the shallow part of the reef not wanting to disturb the eels and sharks and the various small fish that darted away from her.

Once clear she increased the power of the engines, feeling the power in the hum of the hydrogen jets as it sped through the water as if it were a bird in the sky.

The sleek black machine left the Wake Island atoll behind, dipped its pointed nose down, and dove with the grace of a dolphin. A series of spotlights illuminated the gloom as it descended a hundred metres, always staying a few metres away from the jagged rocks of the coral reef.

Using the holographic control screen, Sasha looked up at the critical depths for a human in the sub’s database. Without breathing equipment, they’d struggle beyond fifty meters. The signals, however, came from a depth of over a hundred and twenty. Which told her they’d be dead by now, and that they weren’t human, or they had breathing apparatus, which was unlikely. You wouldn’t fit gas tanks on one of those Jaguar seats.

It took a further thirty minutes for Sasha to navigate to the origin of the signal. She brought the sub to a slow velocity, cruised carefully around the rocky reef. A real crappy place to land, she thought. Rocks and crags fractured the barnacle-covered reef. The lights of the sub reflected off innumerable eyes from within those fissures. Predators waiting for prey, waiting for a morsel to swim too close.

Sasha scanned the area on the radar, navigated the sub in ever-decreasing circles, avoiding the areas most jagged. She came around a large rock formation, home to a group of hiding spider crabs, their long, dangly legs clinging to the rock and the reef surface to avoid being swept away by the movement of the sub.

Within the gleam of the spotlights, small bubbles swirled up from the dark depths. Closer up, she made out the dark shape of a seat, and there, hanging out from the side, a piece of clothing swayed in the currents.

With excitement building, she pulled the sub side-on to the person, and gesturing across the controls, sent out a robotic arm to grip onto the chassis of the seat. She tested the weight by thrusting the sub away by a metre slowly, and with a spurt of dust and the darting panic of various fish, the seat, with the person, who Sasha could now tell was a young-looking girl with pink hair, came away from its lodged position.

The smart-thrusters adjusted their power balance to accommodate the new weight. Sasha entered in a stabilisation program to keep the sub in place and moved to the back of the sub where the air-supply line was located. She clipped the hose to the mask on her face, attached a knife to her belt, and made her way to the small pressure box at the rear of the craft which housed an inner compartment allowing exiting and entering of the sub while submerged.

While cutting the girl free from the seat, and hooking her onto the line that led back to the sub, Sasha couldn’t help but notice something quite disturbing. Despite the girl’s shocking pink mohican and tattooed lips, she was identical to Sasha. This was no Red Widow member!

Inside the girl’s robes were a broken slate and a Criborg chip. Sasha checked the girl’s wrist, and as suspected she found a scar where she, or someone else, had cut it from her. Unable to fully understand the situation, and seeing the various predators taking an interest, Sasha quickly pulled the girl to the rear of the sub and brought her into the pressure chamber.

She instructed the robot arm to unclip the seat and retract. With her precious cargo safe and secure inside the sub, Sasha activated the return-to-base program and wondered what the hell the others would say when she brought her apparent twin home.

***

Once settled in the main cabin of the sub, Sasha ran a health diagnostic.
 

The girl’s heart beat just twice per minute during her unconsciousness. Sasha turned her over, helped clear her lungs. With an injection of adrenaline-infused NanoStem, the girl woke, her eyes flashing wide with panic. She coughed and spluttered the last of the salt water onto the rubberised floor of the sub.

When they locked eyes a flash of recognition shot between them. The girl lifted a shaking, wet hand and touched Sasha on the cheek, following the outline of her face. A raspy voice came from her. “Who are you?” Her eyebrows knitted close together as she cocked her head slightly trying to understand who or what she looked at.

“I’m Sasha,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Her life signs scrolled down the holographic screen next to the cot Sasha had laid her upon. They showed strong and healthy tolerances, the NanoStems working quickly. Her reactions to it were off the chart for a normal person. Sasha then had more of an idea of who she was.

“Yeah, I think so,” the girl said. “Are you from Criborg?”

“That’s us. It seems you had some of our tech in you. Who did that to you? What’s your name?”

The girl shook her head and pushed herself up on to her elbows. “Name’s Petal, and I don’t know. I was sent to you lot for answers. Are we twins?”

“Hah, who knows? We could be. I’ll have to get you back to see Jimmy the Doc. He’ll soon figure this out. What’s on the slate you were carrying?”

Petal looked around frantically, “Damn, I must have dropped it. Where is it?” She sat up, throwing her legs off the side of the cot. She appeared to be recovering exceptionally quickly, and Sasha knew that was an ability they shared. Could they really be the same model? It seemed pretty obvious given the evidence, but despite her growing excitement she remained cautious.

“I got it right here,” Sasha said, holding the slate close to her chest. “Anything dangerous on here? Maybe something from the Red Widows? You working for them, huh?”

“What? No, of course not. Those bitches imprisoned me and cut out my implant! It’s because of that my friends traced you lot and sent me to you for help.”

“What kind of help?”

“I’m dying, apparently, or at least radically changing. And I’m guessing there’s info to that regard on the slate. I didn’t get chance to read the full report before the Widows shot at me from one of their Jaguars.”

“The one you were flying in and sent the message from?”

“Yeah, the very same.”

Sasha moved to the navigation cockpit at the front of the sub and placed the slate in a secure compartment. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll let the Doc take a look at the slate first. We can’t be too careful. Red Widows have been getting way more daring of late and coming closer to our compound.”

“The Island?”

“Kinda. Look, you rest up and I’ll take you back to the Doc and we’ll go from there.”

“What do you know of Red Widow?” Petal asked, joining Sasha in the cockpit and taking the seat next her. “Nice bit of kit, by the way. You got more stuff like this?”

“Hey, I thought I said rest up.”

“Yeah, I don’t really do orders” Petal said, smoothing her wet hair back. “About this sub, you got more of these? What about other stuff, vehicles, weapons?”

“You’ll see. And of the Red Widows, we know plenty. We’ll get to that back at the compound during your de-brief. I think the General will want to have a chat with you.” Sasha flashed her a smile, and when Petal smiled back Sasha shook her head. “Damn, girl, it’s like looking in a mirror. If I had crazy person’s hair!” Sasha’s regular brunette hair pulled back into a functional ponytail now felt entirely uncool and conservative to Petal’s striking pink hair, even if it was wet and lank. “Where are you even from?” Sasha asked.

“I’m hoping that’s what you could tell me. My memories only go back about five years or so.”

Sasha remained silent. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She herself had only been activated for five years. But if they were the same, and that seemed obvious to her now, how had Petal ended up outside of the compound?

Sasha remained quiet for most of the journey, unable to get over looking at Petal and seeing the resemblance there. Jimmy had never made identical models, at least to her knowledge. Was she like her sister? Maybe a precursor or a prototype? And despite herself she felt a twinge of potential sibling rivalry: Is she more capable than me? Stronger? That she had been out of the compound gave reason enough for a growing jealousy that gnawed away at her, but if she were a superior model that just wouldn’t do. Sasha was the special one in the compound. Sasha was the Doc’s greatest achievement, wasn’t she?

***

The dappled moonlight filtered through the water as they ascended. They were twenty meters from the surface now. Sasha coded a secure message, sent it back to Jimmy Robertson, telling him briefly of what she had found.
 

No doubt, one of the oceanographers had noticed the sub had gone, and it wouldn’t take them long to realise it was Sasha who’d taken it, but all that would be forgotten if she had found one of Jimmy’s old models.
 

She hit send. The holographic screen beeped back an error code. Signal blocked or scrambled.

“Gah!” Sasha slapped the arm of her chair in frustration.

Petal jumped in her chair, turned to face her. “What’s happened?”

“Just a minor communications issue. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Petal leaned over to try and read the screen. Sasha placed her hand against Petal’s shoulder pushing her back. “Confidential,” she said. Petal just shook her head and smirked at her. “Sure. Communications error. You mean your signal’s been intercepted, right?”

“No, I—”

“Don’t take me for a fool. We might look alike, but I’m guessing you ain’t seen much action outside of your compound.”

“I’ve been outside!” Sasha said, regretting how defensive she sounded, how immature. And that was it right there. Though they appeared similar, Sasha knew she was the kid here, the inexperienced one.

The various bruises and scars on Petal’s face and shoulders told her she had seen real action, real combat, out there in the abandoned lands. She had killed. The most Sasha had killed were some 3D holo-projections in the simulation lab.

“Just tell me what the problem is, I might be able to help.”