REHO: A Science Fiction Thriller (The Hegemon Wars) (20 page)

“You just want to feel useful,” Gibson said, watching Thursday strip down to his boxers. “Not wanting us to treat you like a handicap.”

“Next chance I get, I’m going to cut off your eleventh finger,” Thursday shot back before diving into the water and heading for the yacht.

As Reho helped lift the last of the containers from the chopper, he realized there was something missing. Between the six of them, there were only five weapons.

“What about weapons?” Reho asked Ends as he exited the chopper.

“We’re making a stop,” he replied. “For now, let’s worry about getting as far away from this chopper as we can.”

***

Reho joined Gibson and Slater in the navigation room. The ship started up with ease. Slater examined the fuel gauges and energy cells. The yacht displayed an estimated 3500 miles of fuel remaining.

“Barely enough to get to Sentosa but we have to try,” Slater said.

“What about the refueling stations at one of these islands to the south?” Gibson said, indicating a smattering of blue dots between them and their destination.

“Piracy has increased around those ports the last few years,” Slater said. “We’re short on weapons and wouldn't be able to do much against a boat filled with OldWorlds. We have guns waiting for us a
t Sentosa, along with our fuel. I’ll update Ends on the situation. Just get us moving,” Slater paused. “Reho, walk with me.”

Reho hadn’t known what to expect from Slater. He knew what Slater expected of him: to immerse into Omega’s virtual system and blow the nuclear reactor. He knew Slater was a military commander and that nothing short of ridding the planet of every Hegemon was going to satisfy him. He suspected Slater would make whatever sacrifices were necessary to complete their mission. He had already seen it with Rainne.

Slater and Reho were on the top deck of the ship, a cozy area away from the main decks. They could still see their abandoned chopper on the beach. Slater pulled a device from his pocket and lifted the protective cover on a red button. He stretched the antenna and paused.

“It took us six years to get that chopper running. Twenty years of work and planning comes down to Plan B.” Slater pushed the button. A single explosion sent a ball of fire and billowing black smoke into the air.

***

Reho, Slater, Sola, and Ends were gathered around the cafeteria table. Thursday had been in the kitchen for more than an hour, and Gibson was in the navigation room, still working on the fastest, most fuel-efficient route to get them to Sentosa.

After everyone had eaten more than their share, Ends took control of the conversation.

“I won’t lie to you,” he said. “We might not succeed. Everyone here had a chance to
not
get on that chopper. Everyone got on. This is your last chance. After I explain the invasion plan, you can decide whether to continue on with us or stay in Sentosa. After that, the success of the mission depends on everyone fulfilling their duty—regardless of the outcome.”

“Jesus, Ends, you make it sound certain that this will be a suicide mission,” Thursday said.

“Unless Reho is able to do what Slater says he can do,” Ends replied. “It is.”

“Then start there,” Sola said. “Why does it
need
to be Reho?”

Slater stood. “Reho possesses a genetic difference that allows him to be stronger, both in our world and in the virtual worlds constructed by the Hegemon.
This is something he shared with Mar and others who had been abducted by the Hegemon while their mothers were pregnant. I don’t understand how it works. The man we sent into the Mainframe died seven minutes after immersing, but he possessed none of the attributes we see in Reho.”

Reho leaned forward. “After immersing, then what?”

“You are Plan B. Always have been since Ends first located you.” Slater took a long draw from his coffee. “You will locate the controls for the nuclear reactor. The real reactor is hidden near Omega, but its controls are only accessible virtually. You will need to locate the nuclear facility inside the Mainframe, it’ll be located near the smokestacks—tall, cylindrical structures that cool the reactor by converting its heat to steam. You’ll know them when you see them. There will be a switch in the control room that will shut down the cooling system. We estimate the time between shutting down the system and the meltdown to be thirty minutes.”

“Why now? Why do we attack when we are not officially at war?” Sola asked.

“The war with the Hegemon has never stopped. Possibly four or five communities have already been destroyed just in the last few years,” Slater said. “This fight is just a continuation from the day they invaded.”

Ends stood up and looked at each of them.

He slammed his fists onto the table. “You are the last soldiers! The Hegemon haven’t won until they have taken out every last one of us. They keep us isolated and weak in our communities. If we fail, then they’ve won. There will be no third chance.” Ends locked is eyes onto Slater.

Slater sat down, took a deep breath, and continued. “In Sentosa we will meet with a guy named Jag. He is holding weapons and equipment for us. We’ll refuel before we meet with him though. Once we reach Omega, some of you will defend the ship and pull Reho before the reactor goes off. Gibson did the math on the reactor’s blast radius.”

Gibson cleared his throat. “My calculations estimate at least a three mile blast radius.”

Thursday laughed. “That’s it?”

“It’s enough,” Gibson replied.

Plans are never a hundred percent,” Slater said. “But it’s our plan for now.”

***

Reho returned to Hall D and entered Rainne’s room. He had avoided it at first. The bed was still unfolded, its covers knotted where they had last slept together. Reho stretched his body across the bed and took in the lingering scent of the floral OldWorld shampoo she had used that last night. The fragrance reminded him how tired he was. He had slept little in the past few days. Everyone was tired. They all needed rest and time to process everything that had happened. Every mile between the ship and Neopan was a reminder that Rainne had been abandoned. When Omega was gone, Log would be weakened and Rainne would be free. He would return and save her.

***

A knock on the door woke Reho from the mirrored city. The nightmare had been filled with images: Jimmy, a dim room with a lighted switch, a woman weeping over her dead son. The boy’s face tiled the floor like computer displays repeating the same image. His eyes were blue and his soft brown hair licked his face as a strong gust pushed against him
. The boy was Reho. The switch across the room flickered, above it the sign read:
More Magic.

“Get up! We found her! Come on, get up!” Gibson shook Reho awake, his laptop dangling in his left hand. He rushed pass Reho and brushed items off the desk in the room.

“We were messaged by Coder twenty minutes ago. She updated Slater on the status of the tunnels and ran a search for Rainne. We didn’t have her identification number, so it took some time. But she sent us this:

>>|Identification| //Rainne//0984239072<<

>>|Birth Date| 2064.34<<

>>|Birth Origin| //New.Afrika//Killa-jaro///<<

>>|Admittance to Neopan| 2083.197<<

>>|Credit Balance| 0000.000<<

>>|Charges| NA498C.AA58B.AA90E<<

>>|Proceeding Date| 2083.199<<

>>|Conviction Date| 2083.199<<

>>|Conviction Status| //Transfer.Approved//Omega //42.7<<

Reho reread the screen. His eyes glued to the last line: Omega.

“Slater hasn’t seen this before. Neither has Coder,” Gibson said. “We don’t know why they transferred her.”

The ocean, looking out from the pier. Six . . . I am six years old.

“We can’t deviate!”
Ends said, waving his arms about like a madman.

Sola sat next to him, her hands calm and eyes focused. The shakes Reho had observed for weeks hadn’t returned since they left Shibuya.

“But we can scan their systems once we reach the coast,” she said.

“We can’t promise,” Ends said. “We are refueling in Sentosa in an hour. Let’s talk about this with Slater once we’ve secured our fuel and weapons.” He ended the conversation and left the room.

Sola reached across the table and rested her palms on Reho’s clenched fists.

“Don’t be angry. Ends will do what is right. He always has.”

“If she’s there, I won’t immerse and blow her away like she’s some worthless alien.”

“I know.”

Reho left and ventured to the bow of the ship. The sun had set hours ago. He closed his eyes and let the warm ocean air caress his face. The night reminded him just how alone they were on this mission, how alone he would be inside the Mainframe. And Rainne. She was alone out there somewhere, imprisoned for involvement in a murder in which she hadn’t taken part.

***

Lights twinkled on the island as they approached.

Reho made his way to the ship’s stern and found most of the crew gathered there.

“Reho, you’re going in with Slater, Thursday, and me,” Ends said.

“Both of you are gunman,” Slater said to Reho and Thursday. “You don’t talk, and you don’t give up your gun no matter what they tell you. The guys we’re buying these weapons from will kill us unless we appear to be a threat. Do you understand this?”

“Yes, sir,” Thursday said. He lifted an assault rifle over his shoulder and lit a cigarette.

Reho shouldered a modified rifle, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. The thought of it exploding mid-fight would encourage him to use it more as a deterrent than an actual weapon.

“Tell Gibson to stop,” Slater said. “We’re launching the water taxi from here.”

He turned to Sola. “The fueling station is not part of Jag’s operation. A guy named Maxin runs it. Tell him Slater has business in Sentosa, and we need the ship filled.”

Sola nodded, cracking a half smile.

Reho thought back to how she had handled the Industrialists off the coast of New Afrika. He hoped Maxin wouldn’t put up a fight, not for her sake but for his.

Gibson joined Sola as the group dropped the water taxi into the ocean. Ends equipped them both with the same modified weapon Reho possessed. Like Reho, both were less than thrilled.

“We should be a few hours, at most,” Slater said. “My guess is that if we aren’t back by sunup, we’re dead. So, maybe come look for us before then.”

“So, wait here unless we sense that you’re in danger?” Gibson said. “Makes sense. Like Spider-Man, right?”

“Yeah,” Slater replied as he grabbed the ladder and descended into the boat. “Like Spider-Man.”

***

The waves crashed hard against their water taxi as Ends, Slater, Thursday, and Reho made their way to the docks.

“Jag is not like me or Ends,” Slater said. “He’s more a pirate than a merchant or mercenary. Most of his goods are stolen. He deals in guns, alien technology, and drugs, especially Cold-Blu. He knows we’re coming, so we shouldn’t have any issues, but remember what I told you. He’s not like us. Give him a window to screw us and he will. Keep your gun close and stick together.”

They docked and made their way to the other end of the pier. The smell of fish hung in the air. A mix of men crowded the nearby storefronts, their languages mingling in the air. Few lived in Sentosa. Reho sensed it wasn’t a safe community, and those that did live here were not the sort to settle down and raise a family.

Farther down the pier, Reho spotted two men in an oversized, open Jeep, each holding sizeable assault rifles that looked capable of shooting through tanks or ships.

“That’s our ride,” Slater said. “Remember not to talk.”

The first chance you get, you shoot them all! If you don’t, they’ll shoot you. And Rainne will remain forever in Omega.
The voice was in his mind. Jimmy’s voice.

How am I hearing you?
Reho was stunned when the voice replied to his thought.

Just be glad you are.

The two men addressed Slater in a language Reho didn’t understand. Thursday looked equally confused, but Ends surprised them both by responding to one of the men in the foreign tongue.

They climbed into the back of the Jeep and sped inland. The unpaved road wound through the jungle, the palm branches and thick tropical underbrush slapping at their faces as Reho and Thursday bounced about in the back.

Why can I hear you?

Nothing.

They stopped at the gate of what appeared to be an OldWorld military compound. The two men standing guard packed rifles like those carried by their escorts. The symbols on the posts and signs were characters Reho knew little about. Voices shouted from inside the compound. The heavy gate lifted. Its gears moaned like a dying animal.

Their ride veered right toward an open warehouse.

Inside, six men patrolled the cargo room. Crates, stacked floor to ceiling, filled the room. Reho had never seen this much inventory in one place before. He wanted to ask what was in them but could guess what most of it was: enough weaponry to start another war.

The drivers escorted them by foot through the warehouse and into a back room. Overhead lights flickered, casting shadows throughout the room like the last frames on an OldWorld reel. A trio of guards stood next to a lift door, smoking thick, round cigars that clouded their faces. Their unkempt beards reached their chest. Their escorts pulled a chain, rolling the doors upward.

Jag, his well-groomed, wavy beard longer than that of the others, waited for them at a cramped desk inside. His slate-grey eyes were bloodshot; scars crisscrossed his gaunt cheeks.

Jag launched into rapid-fire speech, his body language animated. Their two escorts stepped out of the room and stood guard outside the open door. Slater did the speaking for the crew. After their brief exchange, Jag walked over to a single-door cabinet, slid open a drawer, and removed a cigar box adorned with a dragon’s tail on its lid. He returned to his desk with it and sat. No one spoke, but Ends’ eyes were creased with annoyance. Reho wasn’t sure how things were going and wasn’t about to ask.

Jag removed a glass plate and one of the vials filled with blue power. He uncorked the top and spilled its content. He removed a knife from his belt and lined the powder with it. He spoke rapidly again, then sniffed the long, thin line of powder. Jag kicked back, causing his chair to scratch against the floor.

With a sudden yelp, Jag rushed past Reho and out the door. The others followed him to a corner of the warehouse, where an impressive array of weapons was strewn across a table: OldWorld assault rifles and pistols, digital optics with night-vision, and thick-barreled guns that resembled grenade launchers. Reho had seen most of it before, but some of the weapons had unique modifications. A separate canister had been strapped to most of the rifles and grenade launchers. Thin tubing ran from the canisters to the chambers. Even some of the smaller weapons had one, though Reho was unsure of their purpose. These modified weapons did not seem electric or steam pressured.

Stacked alongside the weapons and equipment was body armor. Reho had never seen full outfits like the ones here. Built into the suits were cylinder-shaped back pockets and a collapsible helmet that looked intended for something other than stopping a bullet. And next to the table, a container filled with dozens of energy cells was packaged carefully in an open crate.

Reho and Thursday stood by as Slater, Ends, and Jag talked, their voices hushed but serious. He couldn’t understand a word they were saying, but it was obvious to Reho that serious negotiations were in progress. Before long, another man approached. His face was younger and wasn’t hardened by years of pirating and killing. His hair and the trim on his uniform told Reho he was a businessman. He had seen men like this before. They were the opposite of the knock-down-drag-outs and crime bosses, but always surrounded men like Soapy and Jag. Businessman cowered behind fighters and negotiated for their own safety. He examined the inventory, then spoke with Slater. Slater removed a smartcard from his vest pocket and handed it the newcomer. He swiped the smartcard on a device that hung from a strap around his neck. He showed the number readout to Jag and then strode from the room.

Jag pushed a button on a device attached to his shoulder. A moment later, a pair of warehouse workers, guns slung on their backs, packed the equipment into a rusty, green metal container on wheels. A compact, four-wheeled vehicle backed up to the container. Reho recognized it: an ATV. He’d seen one before on a poster out in the Blastlands. Two soldiers lifted the container’s hitch and latched it to the back of the ATV. Then it was gone.

The weapons secured, their escorts took the crew back to the Jeep.

They rode back to the pier in silence. Everything seemed to have gone smoothly. The language barrier and Jag getting high made the situation unpredictable. But Jag wanted what all men in his position wanted: more power and wealth. Slater hadn’t said how much they paid for the weapons and equipment, but whatever the number had been, Jag didn’t bother asking for more.

The pier was empty. The ATV hauling their merchandise was parked near their boat. As they got closer, Reho noticed it first: the two men driving the ATV were gone.
Initially, Reho thought maybe they’d wandered into one of the shops nearby, but none seemed to be open now. Reho wanted to say something, but their escorts were still with them.

Reho thumbed the electric charger for his modified-rifle. He wasn’t sure if it would fire the shells without the device activated. He looked at Thursday, but his gaze was out at the ocean. It was Ends who noticed something wasn’t right.

Kill them all! Now! Do it!
Jimmy’s voice was urgent.

“Get the equipment!”
Reho shouted as he slid the charger and launched himself forward, twisting around and firing three shots into one of their escorts. The blue charges and OldWorld shells tore football-size holes through his body. Thursday instinctively fired once into the other escort, taking off the top part of his head with the OldWorld rifle.

“It’s an ambush!” Slater ducked as bullets rained down on them from the shops’ rooftops. Well-hidden gunners opened up holes in the pier as they ran to the ATV.

“I told you it went too easily!” Ends yelled to Slater.

Jag had no intention of letting them leave. They’d been hustled, and Reho hadn’t seen it coming until it was too late
. Kill them before they kill you.
Jimmy had known, had warned him.

Thursday and Reho fired onto the rooftops from behind a dried up, concrete fountain. Thursday took out two of the gunners, one falling to the ground in front of the shops. Reho estimated three other gunners still remained.

“Cover me!” Reho said as he propped his rifle next to Thursday.

Reho reached Slater and Ends who were suiting up with the weapons and body armor that had just been purchased. Reho strapped on a vest and took one of the grenade launchers, its strap holding a dozen shells.

“I’ll handle this. Get us ready to go,” Reho said as he slung one of the OldWorld assault rifles across his back and grabbed another for Thursday.

Spotting a gunner atop the roof of a tavern, Reho loaded one of the grenade shells into the launcher, snapped it closed, and fingered the trigger. The shell whizzed through the air, exploding as it found its target. Debris showered the street as the other two gunners paused.

Behind them, squealing tires announced the rapid arrival of a second Jeep. Slater and Ends were now rolling the containers across a ramp onto their boat. Reho cracked the barrel and shook out the shell. He replaced it and snapped it shut.

“You know it’s the rocket launcher that’s awesome and not you, right?” Thursday smiled as he fired a full burst into the Jeep’s windshield.

Reho fired the grenade into its side, and the vehicle flew in the air, crashing into what was now a burning building. Reho shouldered the launcher and equipped the assault rifle. One of the gunners had returned and fired a barrage of shots behind Reho, peppering the water.

Reho emptied the clip in the direction of the shots, picking off the gunman. His body tumbled over the roof’s edge.

“Let’s go!” Thursday said.

Slater and End
s had loaded the boat and were already pulling off as Thursday and Reho jumped on board. The yacht would be a few miles out.

“I have equipment to communicate with my men three thousand miles away but can’t communicate with our yacht three miles out!” Slater said. The waves jolted everything into the air, including them, as the water taxi raced to the ship.

The fire had spread to the pier. Reho watched as men scurried to put out its flames, but most just stood by helplessly and watched. An ocean of water at their disposal and it would all burn to the ground.

Less than a mile out, another boat appeared, its high-powered engine shooting its hull into the waves.

“They just don’t give up!” Thursday said. “We have company.”