Revolution (19 page)

    Rayne visited the Hovercrafts International warehouse twice that week. On his second visit, he bought a new air-car; a gorgeous sports model with better speed and handling than his company air-car. Campion told him any more visits would look suspicious, so that was the extent of his training.

    Rayne studied the computer disc carefully and destroyed it when he had memorized most of the relevant details. His photographic memory was helpful in this situation, as it had been when he was in college.   

    Oddly, there was very little intelligence on the disc concerning the maze-like maintenance tunnels running under Virtual-world. The only thing Campion’s spies knew was that high level computer technicians were allowed access to them. They also knew the tunnels led underground from the theme park to the nuclear reactor and eventually connected with the command bunker beneath the city.

    According to the computer disc, Rayne was going to pose as a computer expert sent from the mainland to troubleshoot problems with Virtual-world’s new Artificial Intelligence programs. The blueprints to the tunnels must have been a closely guarded secret because Campion’s spies had been able to obtain little or no information about them. He was going to have to figure it out as he went along. Rayne hoped he could find more information about the tunnels when he gained legitimate access to the Virtual-world computer system on May 6
th
, 2058.

    Campion told him the security officers guarding Virtual-world did a full internal and external body scan of everyone who came into the park to search for suspicious terror-related items. That meant spies couldn’t bring any cheat sheets or crib notes, least of all any forms of weaponry.

    You could only bring in what was in your head. Once again, his photographic memory was a bonus. Finally, after two months of anxious waiting, Rayne received the go-ahead call from Campion, giving him detailed instructions describing the mission. He prepared for his trip to Virtual-world on May 5th, 2058.

Chapter 16

    Rayne watched the foamy, white-capped waves roll towards the old concrete pier, where he stood holding a can of warm soda. He felt for the leather wallet placed in the inner pocket of his black suit jacket. Taking it out, he stared at the small green pass that would allow him access to a place many people would never see in their lifetimes: Virtual-world, the technological wonder of the western world.

   It was quite warm for early May. The soothing ocean breeze caressed his hair like a gentle lover. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. The taste and smell of the salt-water air was invigorating.

    The Atlantic was as beautiful as ever, or more specifically Long Island Sound. Over the years, he had learned to ignore travesties such as wastewater and deceased sea life riding atop the waves only to settle on the fresh white sand of nearby beaches. Despite the clutter, he appreciated the natural beauty of the vast sea before him. The incandescent afternoon sun glistened on the water like a path of millions of reflective glass fragments.

    Rayne’s eyes squinted from the ocean glare as he attempted to observe the progress of the incoming boat. He made a sun-visor with his right hand and saw the ferry moving along at a tremendous speed. Each time he gazed out to sea, an incoming object grew in size. The bow of the approaching boat sliced effortlessly through the water. 

    Rayne was not alone in his trek toward the alleged paradise, Virtual-world. The dock was cluttered with the families of many Execs. He saw at least fifty other men, most of them ten years his junior, standing on the pier with him. There were twice as many women and children. Many of them were wearing red, white, and blue t-shirts emblazoned with the prosperity symbol. They had purchased the shirts at a little stand at the end of the pier where an old vendor was capitalizing on their patriotism. 

    Peter’s stomach suddenly felt queasy at the sight of hundreds of blue helium balloons floating above the heads of young children scurrying about the dock. He stared, hypnotized, at the prosperity symbol on one of the balloons as it blew erratically in the bright afternoon air. After what he had seen over the past few months, he didn’t know what to make of the famous symbol: the gleaming gold dollar sign embedded into the starry portion of the former American flag.

    Anti-gravitational shuttle buses raced overhead as the ferry drew closer to the docking area. Since the invention of the hovercraft, he supposed that ferry rides were a rather nostalgic way to travel. But he preferred the smell of fresh salt air to the cramped, stagnant quarters of the government shuttle buses. The sea breeze felt rejuvenating after spending many long months in the interior of the city. He loosened his tie and gazed up at the bright blue sky with its beautiful spattering of puffy, white, fair-weather cumulous clouds.

    “You’re dead, grunt-scum!”

    Rayne’s tranquility was shattered as he heard a screeching, high-pitched voice shout from his left. He shifted his gaze to what appeared to be a miniature Shock Trooper. The blue-armored figure stood no taller than four feet. He noticed the uniform appeared complete; from the dark blue glossed helmet, to the deep black shade of the reflective faceplate, to the lustrous blue body armor. With clenched fists, the little soldier beat roughly on his chest plate like a circus gorilla while he pointed what looked to be an automatic weapon directly at Peter’s heart.

    “You’re a dead grunt,” the high-pitched voice of the mini-soldier screeched while proceeding to jam the barrel of a small rifle into Peter’s abdomen.

    “Hey, wait a second, soldier!” Rayne said, trying to make his voice sound relaxed and good-natured as he swatted the rifle barrel aside. “I didn’t know they hired midgets for security on this trip!”

    The small figure flipped up the faceplate of his gleaming blue helmet, revealing the freckled, pug-nosed face of a little boy no more than eight years old. The boy’s eyes squinted into the sun as he gazed up at Peter. The eight-year old then turned the gun around and tried to drive the butt-end into Peter’s gut. This time, Peter felt compelled to seize the weapon from the child’s hands.

    “Why’d you do that for, yeh asshole?” the child yelled, slamming his mask back into place.

    “You’ve got quite a mouth on you, boy,” Rayne said. “That’s a pretty neat get-up you’re wearing. Why don’t you go find your parents or something? The ferry is about to dock.”

    The crowd began to board as Rayne took the hand of the small boy and led him in the direction where he hoped to find his legal guardians.

    “So what’s you’re Daddy’s name, kid?” he asked the boy.

    “My old man’s name is Baxter. Ken Baxter. And he’ll kick your ass for taking my gun. So you best kiss your ass goodbye right now, yeh grunt.”

    Rayne rolled his eyes and shook his head.

    “Where’d you get that mouth, boy?”

    “Certainly not from me,” a man exclaimed from the ramp of the shuttle boat.

    “Hello, sir, I’m Baxter, Kenneth Baxter. But you can call me Ken,” a tall, suited, blonde-haired man in his early thirties spoke enthusiastically as he stepped toward Peter with an outstretched hand.

    Rayne led the boy onto the boarding ramp and faced the man’s radiant smile. He couldn’t help but notice the man’s rigid-looking, straight, blonde hair, which was fastidiously parted to the side and pasted down with enough gel to make an oil slick. Rayne grinned when he realized the steady ocean breeze was incapable of blowing a single strand of the man’s neatly combed hair out of place. Rayne also noticed the man’s teeth were exceptionally white as if he had gargled with laundry bleach. The man appeared nonplussed by Rayne’s amused reaction, thinking it sincere.

    “Nice to meet ya, Ken. I’m Peter Rayne. Your kid must have wandered off,” Peter said, flashing Ken a chagrined smile as he led the little trooper across the ramp to his father. They shook hands.

    “We bought little Jimmy’s shock uniform for his birthday last year. I’m sorry about his actions. He’s got quite the mouth on him. I think he gets it from television,” Ken explained with a concerned expression on his unnaturally tanned face.

    Rayne climbed aboard the ferry with his newfound acquaintances and looked around. The ferry had the appearance of an oversized speedboat. Peter estimated it was about three hundred feet long and sixty feet wide. It appeared similar to a yacht, but looked faster and sleeker. The boat rode low in the water, which cut wind resistance to a minimum. Rayne thought the bow could cut through any storm that nature unleashed in its path. He leaned on the railing and gazed at the wide blue ocean. The afternoon sun glistened on the waves like a magical pathway to paradise.

    When all the passengers were aboard, the gangplank receded into the side of the boat. The high-tech ferry sped off swiftly and without warning. Rayne stumbled and grabbed onto the railing to regain his balance. Most of the other passengers had already prepared for the quick acceleration by seizing the railing or any other fixed object in the vicinity. Apparently, most of them had done this before. He imagined he was one of the few first-timers on board. Peter made his way toward the bow, gliding carefully around the other members of his tour group as he went.

    About three quarters of the way toward the bow, he reached a set of steps leading to a raised portion of the deck. He climbed to the top and leaned against the rail. He noticed the four-foot railing encompassed the entire perimeter of the vessel to keep the happy passengers from tumbling overboard. He saw a tall, reflective glass structure at the vanguard of the central boat cabins, which must have housed the controls where the captain sat at the wheel.

    Rayne sat down on the topmost step near the bow and looked back toward the mainland, which appeared to shrink as the ferry traveled toward the island. From a distance, he could still see the buildings, skyscrapers, and the gleaming Breechlere Corporate Tower rising high into the billowy clouds. The wind felt good on his back as the boat continued to accelerate. The bright blue sea looked like a roughly carved landscape as the ocean swells rose and crashed against the boat. Streams of salt water sprayed lightly over the craft as a slight scent of seaweed permeated the air.

    Peter tried vainly to control his wind-blown hair, but unlike his new pal Ken, he was unsuccessful. He stared up at the crystal blue sky, leaned his elbows against the deck, and crossed his legs for a more comfortable ride. He was startled when he felt someone  tapping his shoulder. A young waiter dressed in a white tuxedo was standing above him.

    “Sorry to surprise you, sir. Would you like a drink?” the waiter asked.

    “Sure, bring me a Pina Colada,” Rayne replied, returning to his comfortable position on the stairs.

    “Right away, sir,” the waiter said, giving him a slight bow before turning smoothly on his heel and walking toward a nearby service cabin.

    If I’m going to impersonate an Executive for this assignment, I might as well enjoy the fringe benefits.

   Glancing around, Rayne saw a number of white-tuxedoed waiters serving the boat passengers. The waiter returned less than a minute later with his drink.

    “Thank you,” Peter said, handing him a fifty-dollar bill for a tip.

    Now that he was an Executive, he had plenty of money. He might as well spread it around a little. He leaned back on the stairs and took a long, slow sip of the delicious drink. 

    This is the first time I’ve had a chance to relax in days,
he thought, leaning back and staring upward at the wide blue firmament.

    An instant later, Rayne gazed ahead and spotted a blue-armored Shock Trooper turning the corner from behind the rear deck cabins. The sudden shock caused him to recall the contents of the computer disc Campion gave him. He had the entire layout of the command bunker beneath New Washington stored in his head. He knew every passage, every duct, and every room of the entire complex by heart. The date of the architectural designs was July 2049. If there had been any revisions within the complex in the past nine years, he might have to alter Campion’s plan.

    The details of the mission flashed through his mind as he watched the armored Shock Trooper patrolling the nearby deck. Using his Executive wrist code, he was supposed to enter the main robotic attraction in Virtual-world called the Powerdrome, posing as an Artificial Intelligence expert. He had memorized a thirteen number and symbol access code, which would allow him to gain access to one of the Virtual-world computer terminals. Then, he had to find the proper computer schematics describing the layout of the maintenance tunnels leading from Virtual-world to the underground nuclear reactor next to the command bunker under New Washington.

    Rayne had to travel through the underground tunnels from the Powerdrome to the nuclear reactor to the bunker complex. If he was lucky enough to make it there, he had to hack into a computer terminal and locate the proper government defense programs.

    Then, for his final act of sabotage, he was supposed to introduce a computer virus into the system, which would render all the automated defenses on the island inoperative. After that, he had to figure out a way to escape.

   
Not the easiest thing in the
world to do
.

    Rayne had the option of traveling upwards through the bunker until he reached the city or making his way back through the maintenance tunnels to Virtual-world.

   
Both ways will be treacherous
.

    After he introduced the virus to the government computer system, the security forces in the capitol city would be alerted. They would know that a saboteur was somewhere in the underground complex. They would probably try to cut him off both ways. He figured that his chance of escaping was minimal.

    Why, then, continue the mission? It was simple. Twelve hours after he sabotaged the computer systems on the island, Campion told him a massive strike force would invade the capitol city. They were going to overwhelm the city’s security forces and capture or eliminate all high-level government officials. Including the president.

   
Glancing around, Rayne noticed another Shock Trooper stationed at the bow of the boat. In his mind, the Troopers on the boat symbolized the many dangers he would be facing on the island. Peter tried to put all thoughts of future danger out of his head. He needed to concentrate on the here and now. He needed to pretend he was just a regular passenger taking a week’s vacation at the world’s greatest amusement park.

    Rayne looked away from the Trooper patrolling the bow and faced forward again, trying to concentrate on the other passengers enjoying themselves. He turned to his left and found himself facing the radiant smile of Ken Baxter.

    “Hey, Peter,” Ken said, barely moving his lips from the ear-to-ear permanent grin he had spread across his face. “I know what you’re thinking.”

    Rayne’s face turned pale and his body went rigid. He stared at Baxter as if he were an apparition appearing from the void.

    “You’re thinking those Troopers are hot inside those metal suits, aren’t you?” Baxter continued without noticing the sudden change in Peter’s expression. “Believe it or not, those Shock Trooper suits are all air-conditioned. They’re temperature controlled like a space suit. Those guys have got it made – except for an occasional air conditioning malfunction. Also, their skin is probably as pale as paste under those faceplates.”