Sons of Abraham: Terminate (12 page)

              “So, you folks are mine, huh?” Anderson laughed after Isaacs left the room.  “You can relax, I won’t rough ya up like the Major did.”

              Vanessa and Keenan let out a sigh of relief as the jolly man continued to laugh at the tension they showed.  Jones leaned against the wall, happy to sit back and observe.

              “Now I’m sure the Major gave ya a speech bout his rules and what not.  Well, the same goes here.  There’s some dangerous stuff in this place, so go where I tell ya.  Been working here for thirty years and I’ve only lost two lives.  One was a heart attack, so don’t go worrying bout that.  The other was an accident, I’m afraid.  Young kid, bout ten years ago.  Didn’t have the chemical relief valve shut before he went in to clean the injectors.  I’ll just tell ya he died screaming and leave it at that.”

              Anderson paused, watching two of his men enter the door near Jones, retrieve a box full of strange parts, and then exit without muttering a word.  His bushy brows raised as he looked at the group, waiting for someone to say something.  After a few seconds, he realized that it was still his turn to speak.

              “Well, okay.  So what we lookin’ for anyway?  We just had our bi-annual inspection last month, so I know you’re not here for that.”

              “I’m afraid we can’t tell you,” Keenan replied.  “It’s classified.”

              “Well, ain't that a problem then?  This could be a real long search if I don’t know what you’re looking for.  Maybe you’ll still be here when I rotate back in a few months.”

              Jones smiled, pushing himself from the wall and walking over the Lieutenant.  He towered over the man, but he hunched slightly to avoid intimidation.  Sometimes, it’s best to let a nice person be nice.

              “They’re looking for Gabriel,” Jones informed him.  “The reason is classified, but I see no point in not telling you.”

              “Yes, I can agree to that much,” Keenan added.  “Gabriel, one of the first Cybers……”

              “Don’t go tellin’ me who Gabriel is.  Hell, this is called a GABRIEL Ring, isn’t it?  Course, you’re not the first ones to come here looking for him, but, that’s your business.  If you give me a minute, I’ll pull up the notes from the last time we had scientists up here.”

              The man slid around the control panel in the center of the room.  His stained hands went to work, flowing across the screen as commonly as a person bathes themselves.  His fingers did the search, starting with a list of guests over the years, arranged by job title.

              “Let’s see, auditor, engineer, military….nope, those aren’t it.  Ah, scientist and historians.”

              The screen went dark, then brought up a long list of historians and various forms of scientists who visited the ring over the years.  The list was long, but not so long as to require scrolling down the page.  Anderson held down a blank button in the lower left corner, then tapped on a few of the names.  He went back and forth, changing the font color and clustering the names in groups of when they’d visited.  It took a little time to realize that they were the seventh expedition to come to this very ring.

              “Now, I’ll do a quick reference to Gabriel….”

              The man brought up a file search, punching in ‘Gabriel’ onto the keypad that appeared.  The panel thought for a second, then darkened three of the groups names.

              “Well, that narrows it down.  Now I’ll pull up their findings.”

              The screen filled with boxes, each containing the notes from the other group’s findings.  The four people looked them over, seeing, at least, a hundred pages of text that needed to be studied.

              “Well, you three have fun.  I’m going to the men’s room.”

              He disappeared, leaving the trio to finish the search.  The two experts stood shoulder to shoulder while Jones stood on the opposite side, reading much of the text upside-down. 

              “That group must have had US in mind,” Jones stated, pointing to a block of text.  “At least, they had the sense to list the rooms they’d searched.”

              “Yes, but do we trust their findings?” Vanessa asked, reading a block of text in the lower left corner. 

              “I’d say yes,” Keenan replied.  “We start with whatever they DIDN’T search, then we can go back over the areas they DID check, just to be certain.”

              “Sounds smart,” Jones added.  “It may go quicker if we split into teams.  We could each take an escort with us.  Maybe Anderson will find us two more experts.”

              “You can take the Major then,” Keenan stated.  “Man gets on my last nerve.”

              “Don’t be so quick to judge them,” Jones replied.  “Space fatigue can wear on a person, especially those who have multiple tours of duty out here.  They can recreate everything artificially, but there’s something to be said about fresh air.”

              They trio worked in unison, marking sectors of the station that had already been searched, and highlighting those that had not.  The researched the unsearched areas, making certain that they weren’t attempting to enter a dangerous area.

              “Well, got it all figured out?” Anderson asked, returning from his break.

              “In a manner of speaking,” Jones informed him.  “We’ll break up into teams.  I’ll take Sanchez and whoever the Lieutenant can afford.  The three of us shall take these areas.”

              He highlighted the areas on the map, then flipped them across the screen.  The highlighted areas filled his datapad, which he placed in his pocket.  Anderson made a call, bringing two more maintenance engineers to the room.  Jones called the Marines to them, informing them of the details. 

              Jones was led by a young woman named Tiffany.  He stayed back, watching her ponytail wave back and forth as she walked.  She spoke quickly, all of her energy thrust upon Sanchez as the two led the way.  They reached the first area on the map after twenty minutes, though Jones had little hope of finding the missing Cyber.  He’d chosen strategically, selecting areas that didn’t require taking a shuttle to reach. 

              The first room was marked as storage on the map, but the view from the doorway told him a different story.  Cots were aligned in rows, with portable medical stations at the foot of every third cot. 

              “You want to explain this?” Jones asked.

              “Oh,” Tiffany started.  “We had a huge flu outbreak a few years back.  They had to turn this into a quarantine zone.  Guess they never took everything out afterward, huh.”

              Jones sighed, then turned and left the pair in the middle of the room.  The next room on the list offered little reward, displaying long shelves full of non-perishable items, mostly feminine hygiene.  It seemed the supply officer came upon a deal he couldn’t pass up.

              “So, what do you do?” Sanchez finally asked.

              “Oh, me?  I’m the tech in charge of the air scrubbers.”

              “Really, that’s interesting.”

              “Thanks.  It’s a big job.”

              “Well, we’re all glad to be breathing.”

              Jones sighed and rolled his eye, growing weary of the pathetic attempt at flattery.  He admitted that the young woman had more than an ounce of appeal, but he doubted she had more than a handful of brain cells bouncing around in her skull.  Still, the back and forth conversation offered him with an opportunity.

              “Look,” he started, turning to interrupt the hormone-fueled pair.  “There doesn’t seem to be any potential danger on this list.  All the unsearched areas are nearby, so I think I’m safe to go on my own.  It’s late.  Why don’t you two go get some dinner or a drink, or something.”

              Sanchez winked at Jones, then turned to Tiffany.

              “Yeah, the man’s got this.  Why don’t ya take me to the cafeteria?”

              Tiffany smiled and led the Marine away.  She was asking him something about his battle experience, but Jones had tuned out the second they’d turned away. 

              The tall man skipped the next three rooms on the map, choosing to enter the relay station instead.  The door initially denied his entry, but a quick run of a code-breaking program on one of his data pads removed the obstacle.  It took thirty minutes, but he soon found himself connected the direct feed of the ring, the one that bounces signals from one system ring to the next. 

              He reached into his pockets and withdrew all five of the data pads that contained the information he’d ‘borrowed’ from the Cyber lab.  The files were loaded into the stream, careful as to mix in with other transmissions as they entered.  He filtered it through the oncoming transmissions, leaving no trace of the file transfer.  The IP circled from ring to ring, then bounced back with a long list of orders from Taurus to the Earth, confirming beef and agricultural rates for the next season. 

              The man worked quickly, emptying each data pad onto the stream.  He watched the available memory on each pad increase, then reaching full capacity as the last file was uploaded.  From one pad to the next, Jones emptied each file until all five pads were wiped clean.  He sat, patiently waiting for a return message from home.

             
Transfer complete.  Program available.  Begin construction Y/N?

              Jones smiled as he pressed ‘Y’ into his last data pad.  He bit lip, eagerly anticipating the return data on the product build.  Five minutes passed, then ten, and fifty.  Finally, after more than an hour, he received the confirmation he’d longed for as long as he could remember.

             
Construction commencing…..

             
A smile formed on his lips as he checked each pad, just to make certain that no trace of data could be found.  He initiated the recall, setting each pad back to their factory state.  Satisfied that each pad was clean, he stuffed them into a box full of similar data pads, leaving one in his pocket. 

              The smile faded as he thought through to his next step.  The chances were great that the team would quickly determine that Gabriel had NEVER stepped foot on this particular ring.  The truth about the greatest Cyber of all time had long been buried, leaving the mystery intact.  Still, the problem remained as how to get the team to return to Earth.  Both the technician and the historian were stubborn, a side effect of being successful in their fields.  It would take a strong case of undeniable evidence to make them quit on their assignment.  He pondered the offer of false data, offering them something they could take back to Wilkes, thinking their mission was a success.  The idea was flawed, given that he had nothing to use as a decoy.  He would have to convince them to leave the Gabriel Ring, perhaps in the form of a red herring.  He stood at the closed door for several minutes, piecing together his plan. 

              Calloway could barely withhold his appetite as he stared at the feast set on the table.  There lie a rack of beef in the center, surrounded by potatoes, corn, bread, fruit, and tiny pastries.  He watched as Tana waited for Bastiian to turn his attention, then her slender hands snatched three of the thumb-sized treats, stuffing each in her tiny mouth while the Commander spoke.

              “Tell me, Agent Calloway,” Bastiian started, pouring his guest wine into a golden goblet.  “How does one become an Agent for the Interplanetary Investigative Unit?  It doesn’t sound like a title one is granted upon completion of schooling.”

              Nathan nodded when the glass was full, placing it behind his plate.  A young girl, perhaps twelve in age, took the Agent’s plate and filled it with small bits of every dish on the table.  Her tiny eyes caught his as he watched her grab and extra roll from the basket, smiling as she placed the plate in front of him.

              “Thank you,” he told the young girl.  “I’m not certain of your dining manners, do we say a prayer or something?”

              “Oh no,” Bastiian laughed.  “Our people tend to their God in the morning and just before bed.  We do not force religion upon the dinner table.  I’m quite certain that he is aware of our many thanks.  Please, eat as you will.  You must be starving.”

              Nathan bit into one of the rolls, his mouth closing as he savored the buttery goodness that filled his mouth.  He swallowed quickly, realizing that he was expected to be the entertainment for the night.  The lump felt thick in his throat, forcing him to chase it down with a sip of wine before he could speak.  The wine was like no other, his tongue searched for the memory, but not fruit came to mind.

              “Gorzaberry,” Tana told him. 

              “Excuse me?” he asked, placing his napkin to his lip to cover a burp.

              “Gorzaberry,” she repeated.  “That’s the berry from which the wine is made.  It’s covered in a husk, much like corn.  When the berry is ready, the husk opens in hopes that the birds will feast upon it and drop the seeds amongst the land.”

              “Interesting,” he replied.  “When we have a chance, I’d like to see a picture of the fields when the berries are ready.  I’m guessing it’s a spectacular sight.”