Sons of Abraham: Pawns of Terror Read online

  Bear didn’t need to see her pasty arm waving to know where she was. Being a foot taller than anyone else was an advantage in situations like this. For his elevated view, he could see the people scurrying down the aisles between the two dozen lines of monitoring stations. The dim glow of the emergency lights didn’t help with the chaos, but the Sargent could easily make out the ghost image of Corporal Janys James in the back right corner.

  “Gimme an update James,” he muttered, trying not to sound out of breath.

  “Not much to say here, Sir. We’re running blind,” Janys muttered.

  Bear stepped to the windows of the Central hub, his view distorted from the tower that now stood between him and where he’d last seen the harriers approaching. The lights from the two moons above, as well as the floodlights outside that operated on solar cells, offered him a view of the spider web that made up the Divinity station on Ulland, a moon base of Parasus with minimal climate and gravity control.

  “How many have reported in?” Bear asked, still looking at the horizon.

  “Sixty-four,” she stated. “As well as seventy-two civilians.”

  “That leaves three soldiers, including the Lieutenant, who didn’t report,” Bear grumbled. “I can’t keep track of our civ population. What was the last count?”

  “Eighty.”

  “Three soldiers and eight civs. I like our odds.”

  He scanned the room, mentally noting how many soldiers occupied the Central hub. His saw twelve, not including him and Janys. There were five exits that were likely covered by two soldiers per, as well as units at the Tower. The numbers weren’t adding up. There shouldn’t be any more than ten soldiers at the Tower. There were a few other places that were deemed necessary to guard during a lockdown, such as the barracks, med-bay, arms depot, and the garage. The garage was massive, calling for five guards, the other places called for three each. There were ten whose duty was to patrol the hallways, leaving sixteen unaccounted for whom should be at Central.

  “Did you get the distress call out before the power died?” he asked, turning to the short man next to Janys. He’d call him by name if he knew it, but Divinity changed operators so often that he gave up learning who they were a long time ago.

  “Just barely,” the small man replied. “I got half the message out, but I did get the bounce-back from the ring just before we went dark.”

  Two men caught Bearden’s eye. Both were guards, the ones from the fight he’d broken up last night. One had a black eye, the other had tape over his nose. Bear wasn’t ashamed to admit that the broken nose was his doing. He had a habit of reacting poorly whenever someone drove an elbow into his face. He considered himself old-fashioned in that sense.

  “Carter, Mullins, you’re with me!” he shouted over the crowd.

  The two men caught site of the Sargent, but neither was in too big of a hurry to race over to him. They methodically traced a path through the crowd, working their way towards their commanding officer.

  “I’ll take these two and check out the power station,” Bear started. “You grab three and head to the defensive grid. I want this place on lockdown as soon as we get power restored. You see anyone at the controls, you shout back to me. I want to know who they are before you take them down.”

  “Take them down?” Janys asked, looking for some soldiers to accompany her. “Shouldn’t I confront them first?”

  Bear turned back to her, stepping in close enough to whisper.

  “You can ask politely with your rifle, you got me, Soldier?”

  Janys nodded, seeing a cluster of three guards with potential in the middle of the room. She checked her rifle, then slipped through the crowd. Bearden turned to Carter and Mullins, waiting for their eyes to lock into his. Carter didn’t take but a second. Mullins, the one with the taped nose, never looked up from his boots.

  “Alright you two shits,” he started. “Both of you are on me.”

  The Sargent shoved through the crowd, making for the hallway to the power relay station. He hadn’t done the math in some time, but he guessed there to be no more than a mile between them and the station. As they rounded the first corner, the buzz from worried conversations slowly faded behind them. The group took the next left, heading the opposite direction of the tower.

  “Either of you know whose sposed to be on the station?” he muttered, barely turning his head back to the trailing soldiers.

  “Dixon and Mullins,” Carter offered.

  “Mullins?” he replied. “You mean you’re supposed to be down there?”

  “No Sir,” Mullins stammered. “My cousin Jimmy. I tried calling him twice, but all I got was static.”

  Bearden thought back to what Janys had stated earlier about how she was getting nothing but dead air when she’d called the defensive grid. It was easy to picture Mullins stammering over the com link, desperately trying to get a word back from his cousin. Bear had two of his own family that's passed through the station at one point or another. He always made it a point to keep tabs on his family every hour they were stationed with him. Soldiers were brothers, but family is family. They’d just passed the hallway to the barracks when something on the floor drew his attention. In the corner, a series of dark drops rested on the concrete. He knelt down, shining his light with his left hand and reaching out with his right to swipe up the drops. The drops left a thick, red streak on his massive fingers. Carter and Mullins both saw the blood, each taking their holsters off their shoulders and turning the safeties off.

  “Heard you say we had harriers incoming,” Carter started. “They look like Earth military?”

  Bear thought back, but he had to admit he could see little other than the lights on the wingtips of the planes. He was only able to guess by the faint light hitting the nose of the first ship that it was a harrier. Then, the image of the blue-gray paint job on the nose slapped his brain.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “First one was blue-gray. Sounds like an Earth harrier.”

  “Watch the news last night?” Mullins asked, looking back to the empty hall behind them.

  “Nah, I was wrapped up with something,” Bear replied. “Why?”

  “The Cybers laid waste to a military courtroom yesterday,” Carter replied, his eyes wide and alert. “They said the entire Cyber division took down over sixty people. Then they all jumped the planet.”

  “Fuck!” Bear snapped, rising up from the crouched position. “How many Cybers we got here?”

  **************

  Abraham dropped the scanner on the table when the same line flashed on the screen for the seventh consecutive time. He’d spent the entire night attempting to gain access to Cybill’s memory core, but the result was a severed connection. The black discs over his eyes folded outwards and slid back into the cases on the sides of his temples. His internal processor informed him it was now morning, according to the standard time stamp from Earth. For eight hours, he’d attempted to awaken his daughter from her cryo-sleep, but it seemed that fate was not favoring him in his endeavor.

  “You been at it all night?” Jenna asked from the doorway.

  Out of instinct, the black, circular discs returned from their home, covering over the mirror coating of his scanner eyes. His hands pressed against the table as he turned his head towards the question. He wanted to smile, but fatigue forbade him from the gesture.

  “I have,” he muttered. “With no success to show for it, I’m afraid.”

  Jenna slipped through the doorway to the makeshift lab, attempting to ignore the hum of the Hopper’s engines. Her youthful frame edged around the table Abraham was working at, her hand tracing the leg of the Cyber resting upon it. She stopped when she reached the head, leaning in to further examine their newest shipmate.

  The eyes of Cybill had faded, the bright blue light fading to black. The female’s face was wide, her nose upturned, and a wide mouth to match the cheeks. Her ears were tiny, a short neck, and a stocky body. Jenna wouldn’t consider her fat, but Cybill was c
learly heavier than Jenna or Sandra. It was difficult to tell what was muscle and what was fat underneath the jumpsuit that Abe had dressed her in when he removed her from the cryo-coffin.

  “So what’s wrong with her?” Jenna asked, standing up straight.

  Abraham pulled the datapad off the table, handing it to Jenna without saying a word. The Cyber returned his attention to the workstation behind him, analyzing the endless stream of data upon the computer’s screen. Jenna looked at the data pad, but she hadn’t a clue what she was looking for.

  “Alright Abe,” she muttered, looking up from the pad. “You need to remember that I’m a beginner. You still have to explain EVERYTHING to me.”

  “There is a break in her data stream,” he replied, still looking at the workstation. “I can’t know for certain without doing a scan, and I lack the proper equipment needed for such a diagnostic. Until I find the equipment I need, I’m afraid Cybill is lost to me.”

  “She’s broke, huh?” Jenna asked, looking down to the lifeless woman. “I’m sorry Abe. Can’t imagine how hard this has to be on you.”

  Abe turned around, scanning the young woman who stood next to his daughter. Her hands leaned on the corner of the table, one leg crossed over the other in an awkward stance. Her skin was pale like her older sister’s, likewise for the black hair, brows, and the same cheekbones. Sandra often preferred to keep her hair tied back in a tail, but Jenna preferred to sweep her hair to one side, waving up and around one side of her face. Today, she had the hair tied over one shoulder, a look Abe hadn’t witnessed in some time.

  “I appreciate the sentiment,” Abraham replied. “However, it is unnecessary. I was astonished to find her in this condition.”

  “Really?” Jenna stamped. “How’d you expect to find her?”

  Abraham looked down to his daughter, brushing a pale finger against the side of her face. A faint smile formed on his tight lips as he withdrew his hand and folded his arms over his narrow chest.

  “She’s only twenty years younger than I am,” he stated. “I expected to find a grave. She was a child when I made her a Cyber. I’m guessing she’s in her late twenties now.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Jenna started. “How exactly did you decide who to turn into Cybers? Was there a certain trait you looked for? Organ donors may be?”

  “Not quite,” he laughed. “There was a test performed on them before the procedure. We worked within what used to be London. Children and young people did an aptitude test. I monitored their scores. When a candidate came along, I would check their test history.”

  “So she volunteered?”

  “No. Poor thing was in a car accident. She’d been in a coma for three months when her parents signed the waiver. I warned them for hours that her memories would be lost. I never have seen a couple fill with such joy when she woke, then such sorrow when she couldn’t recall whom they were.”

  “So sad,” she added, tracing the girl’s face with the back of her finger. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to touch the unconscious woman, but something about the sorrow in Abe’s voice made her feel for the woman. “So was she always bald?”

  “Oh no,” Abraham replied. “The cryo caused that. It should grow back. As well as her skin color.”

  “Skin color?” she stammered.

  “Yes,” he said. “The freezing process crystallizes the water in the cells. Her parents were of mix race. One African, one Caucasian. Her skin is usually a light brown color, with curly brown hair to match.”

  “That explains the lips,” she muttered without thinking.

  Abraham looked up to her, his brow furrowed in distaste.

  “I’d rather hoped that racism had died a long time ago,” he told her.

  “It’s just an observation,” she shrieked, jumping back from the table, her face turning pink. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear Abe.”

  Abraham leaned over the table, his head hanging low against his chest. Jenna couldn’t tell if he was looking down, or if his focus was up in her direction. The lack of pupils made it impossible to tell what the Cyber was looking at.

  “No, I should apologize,” he whispered. “I’m upset and exhausted. Will you help me with her, please?”

  Jenna stormed around the table and threw her arms around the disheartened man. His head slumped onto her shoulder as her hand clutched the back of his shirt. She felt his chest stutter but knew his eyes were not capable of producing tears. She couldn’t imagine such a hell.

  “Of course, I’ll help you,” she whispered.

  ***********

  Vice President Jana Wilkes had to maneuver well out of her way to avoid stepping onto the grating that covered the middle of the floor. The location left much to be desired as she kept wringing her hands together, petrified she’d catch a disease from the slime and filth that covered the walls. She made a mental note to burn her shoes. She swore under her breath. The shoes were expensive, a gift from her late sister. The blue leather heels were hard to come by, shipped all the way from Mesa nearly ten years ago.

  She had reached the sub-basement of the abandoned structure, the cool, damp air making her wish she’d brought a jacket to the ordeal. The foundation of the building was cracked, a faint trickle of groundwater proving that anything can be washed away, given enough time. In the center of the barren basement rested two screens resting on a portable station, the familiar site of Mr. Jones guarding the units, waiting for his guest to arrive.

  “Could you possibly have picked a worse spot?” she asked, positioning herself in front of the two screens. “I swear I saw a dead body back there somewhere.”

  Jones offered no reply, instead pulling a pad out from his pocket and pressing a sequence of orders into the device. The two screens, previously showing a blank gray screen, came to life. Jana Wilkes stared back at two other Jana Wilkes’, their outfits matching hers down to the pendant on her shirt. The view was disorienting as the two digital avatars moved and swayed as she did. It was a mirror program, intended to keep the viewer from knowing the identity of whoever was on the opposite end of the transmission. The part she cared the least for was that the unknown users could switch out with someone else and she’d never know it. The program even used her own voice, which was what the group was waiting for. The program needed a sample to generate a voice.

  “We need to make this quick,” she stated. “The sun will be up soon and the President is holding a press conference concerning the courtroom shooting.”

  “Relax Vice President,” the left screen told her. “We assure you that you will be back in time for breakfast. We need your status update.”

  “Yes,” the right screen tacked on. “We NEED your status update.”

  Jana looked to Jones, noting that the man seemed off put by the location of the meeting. His eyes continuously circled the room, as if every dark corner were about to unleash a demon upon him. The clean, tall figure was only a middleman to her, but she’d rather deal directly with the tall man than the two Jana’s on the screens before her.

  “Our status remains unchanged,” she snapped. “We have fulfilled our end and are moving along as scheduled. What news have you?”

  The avatars went back to mimicking her, a sign that those on the other end of the feed were having sidebar conversations. Just once, she’d rather meet face to face. It was impossible to take the upper hand when she couldn’t judge body language, tone, and facial expressions. She guessed the use of the avatars also served to prevent her wishes. She was about to ask Jones to check the connection when the left avatar suddenly stopped mirroring her movements.

  “We are not concerned with your endeavors with the courtroom,” the left screen stated. “We want to know your progress of locating the packages. Have they been found?”

  “Of course not,” she yawned. “You know damn well we’ll never find it.”

  The right screen came alive as Jana was greeted with a displeased version of herself. She made a mental note to make a trip to the b
eauty clinic after she burned her shoes. The wrinkles between her brows were more concerning than the angry voice of the avatar.

  “YOU HAD BEST FIND IT!” the right screen shouted, the speakers built into the screen cracking. “Our patience is wearing thin, Vice President Wilkes. Perhaps you are in need of motivation?”

  Wilkes closed her eyes and swallowed hard. The last time she needed ‘motivated,’ she found herself short one family member. Still, she hadn’t reached her position by being timid.

  “Yes,” she replied, her eyes snapping open. “I believe I did as you demanded then, did I not?”

  “You did.”

  “Then when do I get to see my sister? I assume she’s dead, but it’d be nice to know where to grieve.”

  “Your sister is no longer your concern. You daughter, however, is. I wonder what the Queen on Eden would do if they discovered Emilia’s planetary documents had been forged? You know how they pride their population control.”

  Jana did her best to keep her jaw straight, her eyes locked forward on her target. Little by little, she wanted nothing more than to tear her own face off the screens, wringing her hands around her own neck. Despite the threat, she held her composure intact.

  “You know full well that the schematics for….” She started.

  “Do not say it!” the left screen interrupted. “We cannot guarantee the security of this transmission.”

  “I suspected as much,” she snapped. “Otherwise, I’d be welcomed by your lovely faces, rather than my own.”

  The screens mirrored her once more. The pause lasted for several minutes, a sign that all was not well on the other end of the transmission. She wanted to look at Jones, to gauge his reaction to the conversation, but the tall man had slid into the shadows, making it impossible to see his face.

  “We have reached a decision,” the right screen started. “You have proven yourself worthless to our cause. We will take more, DIRECT measures. Good day.”

  The connection ended, both screens showing her own image, as well as the disgust upon her aging face. She stormed out of the room, barely remembering to avoid the grating in the middle of the floor. She didn’t need to turn to know that Jones’ eyes were upon her, watching her exit his presence. She’d played the part of the puppet for too long, leaving her little choice but to reach out for assistance. The possibilities swirled in her head as she reached the stairs.