Sleeper Protocol Page 18

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  I do, I replied silently. It doesn’t help me deal with the fact that I killed three men. Why didn’t you stop me?

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  I wasn’t sure about that. The old man had tried to escape, and I hadn’t let him. If he’d surrendered, I might have killed him anyway. That wasn’t how a normal person acted.

  A thick, fallen tree trunk rested down the hill from the hexhab, just above the edge of the forest. I walked over, sat down, and stayed until the crescent moon was high in the sky. As I stepped into the warm shelter, Berkeley lay curled under blankets in a position that told me I had the other cushion to myself that night. I stripped out of my clothes, set them to be cleaned, and lay down. A long time later, I finally slept.

  “You’re sure of this?” Crawley sat with his head in his hands and sighed as quietly as he could.

  “Confirmed via neural net scans,” Bennett said.

  Crawley lost his ability to control his emotions and slammed a fist onto his desk. “Goddammit! What were they doing there?”

  There was a pause. “Not coincidental, if that’s what you’re asking. Remember the attack in Sydney? I believe they may be connected to this altercation.”

  He’d figured as much. “What else could you get from them?”

  “I’m still reviewing the data, but they’d been following us for at least four days. Maybe longer.” Bennett hesitated. “They were not well equipped, at least in terms of what was on their bodies. There must have been a cache at a campsite nearby.”

  “Did you investigate it?”

  “No. I stayed near him. Given the massive amount of endorphins in his system after the attack, I was worried that he would have a negative response equivalent to posttraumatic stress disorder.”

  “Did he?” Crawley asked.

  “No. It’s taken him over two hours to get to sleep, but he has not shown any type of emotion that I can gather.”

  That’s a good sign, Crawley thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. Soldiers who could compartmentalize their feelings were necessary. “And what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You were attacked, Doctor Bennett.” Crawley stroked his chin. “How about pulling your head out of the experiment for a moment, will you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m not fine at all. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. He told me to run, and I ran. I came back up the hill, and he was standing there with blood all over him, a deep gash on one arm, and three dead bodies nearby. He seemed as if it didn’t affect him at all. Like he didn’t realize what he’d done. I accessed what data I could just to avoid looking at him.”

  Crawley chuckled. She had done well in the heat of the moment. “You’re right, Doctor, you’re right. Anything else you were able to get before the links died?”

  There was a long pause. “This line is secure?”

  Crawley sat up straight, a jolt of panic running down his spine. “Yes, why?”

  “One of them had an active datapad and never bothered to shut it down. I accessed it right after I treated Sleepy’s arm. Took me about five seconds to neurally hack it. Not only were they paid by the Terran Council, but they were paid out of a supplementary account I traced to Geneva, where it terminates and changes account information to a bank in the Seychelles. The parent institution is in Marseille.”

  “France?” Crawley closed his eyes. Penelope Neige. “You’re certain of this?”

  “As sure as I can be, General. The data was encrypted at a quantum level. Do you want the data?”

  “Hell yes, I do!” Crawley flared. What am I going to do with it—tell the chairman of the Terran Council to butt out? Not likely.

  “Data’s on the way. Nothing else significant to report.”

  “Good job. I’m sending you a data package for download. You won’t have anyone sneak up on you again. What about the protocol? Any luck getting inside?”

  “No. I’ve ended my passive measures. When she reports something, I’ll get inside if I can. I have to find the right opportunity to not risk complications.”

  Crawley shook his head. “You’re not at risk right now, are you?”

  “I’m over two hundred meters from the shelter. She can’t touch me.”

  “You care for him, don’t you?”

  The pause was enough to confirm Crawley’s suspicions no matter what Bennett said. “Um… no. I mean, he’s…”

  “Be careful. You are as important to this project as he is.”

  Her reply was soft. “I know.” The sigh confirmed that she had more than feelings for their subject. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “At this point, it’s unlikely that you will. I doubt he’s going to get down on one knee or anything.” Crawley chuckled. “I’m assuming that you’re going to be okay as well?”

  “Yes.”

  He had to smile. For a professor, she was one hell of a tough woman. “Thanks for the report, Berkeley.”

  “Thank you, General. Bennett out.”

  Dedicated satellite sensor coverage was easy for him to arrange. Politicians and their whims, on the other hand, were difficult for even a Terran Defense Force general officer to handle. Even though he knew the politician like his own sister, Crawley wondered what Penelope Neige intended to do this time. Though she’d backed the program since its inception fifty years ago, her growing opposition to actually having a genetic clone going to war both surprised and concerned him. Using modern subjects would not work, and she knew that. Why would she change her mind now?

  Crawley considered, then rejected, the idea of calling on the chairman. Pulling up Bennett’s reports, he began to formulate the mountain of data necessary to prove impropriety on the part of the Terran Council in this experiment. Whether or not they tried to take the subject again, Crawley would be ready to fight them on the field where they had the advantage: the courtroom. The commanding general of the Terran Defense Forces would likely intervene before then, but Crawley had to be sure. Against overwhelming evidence, even politicians had to back down.

  Unless, of course, Sleepy kept killing his enemies. At some point, the number of innocent people the Terran Council directed to attack him would add up, and there would be death for many of them. Raising a well-trained combat veteran, in a world where everything could be out to get him, was the intent of the experiment in the first place. The subject didn’t need to be paid to kill, nor did he need anything more than to care for those around him in order to do what had to be done without a second thought. The council wanted his subject dead, and that could shut the entire integration program down for good.

  As long as the subject of the experiment lived, Crawley could fight on. With a priceless asset deployed in support of the subject, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect either of them.

  I woke when the sun was high in the sky. Berkeley sat on her cushion, cradling a bulb of tea, and glanced at me. The corners of her mouth turned up, barely. “Good morning.”

  I grunted. “Morning.”

  “Sleep okay?”

  That’s a trick question. Being a terrible morning person kept conversation short and clear. “Not really.”

  “I made some tea. Earl Grey is your favorite, right?”

  “Yeah.” Making me tea? “What’s going on?”

  Sipping her tea, she looked away for a second and then stared back at me. “You were right. If you’d run, I would be lying dead up there, not them. You saved my life.”

  Flushing, I squeezed her offered hand. “I just reacted, Berkeley.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Putting the tea aside, she embraced me and kis
sed me on the lips harder than on previous days. Things were definitely getting better.

  We broke camp and headed north again, moving quicker above the tree line than we had for some time. Berkeley led the way, and I looked every so often to clear the trail behind us. There were no more surprises. Without the trees, the sun warmed us and the terrain laid itself out before us in stunning vistas. Down below, fresh streams rolled into clear mountain lakes. What about the disputes over water rights? I asked Mally while watching Berkeley fifty meters ahead.

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  If people wanted water badly enough, wouldn’t they attack the pipeline? I would.

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  Forget I asked.

  “You coming, back there?” Berkeley asked.

  I snorted. “Where are we headed?”

  Berkeley stopped and pointed to what appeared to be a large valley off to the east. “We’ll come down off the divide—up there—tomorrow, maybe the day after, and head east. A big frozen lake not claimed by anyone awaits. I intend to do some ice fishing if you’ll indulge me a day or two.”

  “You don’t seem like the type,” I said, and she waggled a finger at me. A day or two would not matter, but it couldn’t be more than that. Tennessee was still a long way away, and not growing close as quickly as I wanted. “I’m not much of a fisherman.”

  “You think?” She raised her eyebrows at me.

  “I know. I can camp with the best of them, but ask me to catch a fish? Forget it.”

  “Sounds like you’re remembering more.”

  “I am.” I wanted to tell her more but held back. The trickle of thoughts had become a steady stream over the last few days.

  “Tell me?”

  I shrugged. “Still making sense of it. Maybe while you’re fishing, I can sort it all out.”

  “No fresh grilled trout for you.” Berkeley laughed and started walking again. “My dad taught me. It’s just something I like to do when I get the chance. Of course, if I leave you behind, that’s just more for me.”

  Things were getting better between Berkeley and me. The problem was that one of these days she would leave me behind. Then what would I do?

  Operations Report, Day Twenty-Six.

  Subject is at 94 percent of Stage Four integration. Stage Four communications block is in place and will be initiated when subject reaches Stage Four. Guidance protocol remains unhacked via passive measures. Recommend no active measures. Concern is high that guidance protocol will alert Stage Four through secondary communications means, leading to termination of the subject. There is a 98 percent chance the signal can be interrupted within 0.8 seconds. It should be enough.

  There is a danger of emotional compromise. Not for the subject. Should the situation develop any further, I will activate the agreed-upon measure.

  Bennett

  Chapter Fifteen

  The afternoon sun glinted off the distant slopes of what Mally identified as the Sawatch Mountains. The weather was turning again, from the cold, clear night to a cloudy, blustery morning. A front was coming in, and though the air didn’t smell like snow, it would arrive soon.

  “Maybe we should get going,” I said as we finished a conjured breakfast from the hexhab galley.

  Berkeley squinted at me. “If we’re still being followed, they’ll just keep following us.”

  “And if they close in on us, we’re sitting ducks out here in the middle of a field.”

  Berkeley tapped her head near her left ear. “That thing in your head will tell you if someone is coming, right?”

  “Not much warning, but she can.” There were too many variables to be sure. The serene wilderness could hide millions of eyes. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop feeling that we were being watched.

  “Moving right now is a bad idea. There’s a storm coming in, and it’s probably going to snow later. Do you want to be trapped in a place where we can’t use the hexhab?”

  No, I didn’t. Mally, the storm that’s coming in. Will there be heavy snow?

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  The idea had a lot of merit. If we moved at night, there was a chance to slip away from anyone watching us. Provided they did not have any type of infrared seeing capabilities, we might get away unnoticed. “We’ll move tonight. Use today to rest and get ready. After sunset, we deflate the hexhab and move. We’ll have about six hours until the storm really hits. How far do you think we can go in that amount of time?”

  “In the dark?” Berkeley shrugged. “Fifteen kilometers, I guess. Down the next ridgeline.”

  Chuckling, I said, “I forgot to tell you that I can see pretty well in the dark. If you stay with me, I bet we make twenty.”

  “What do you care to bet on it?” She crawled close, and our lips met. Her breath warm on my face, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her down to the blankets. The kisses became urgent, feverish, and led our hands to each other’s clothing. Naked against each other, her hand slipped between us, guiding gently. Locked together, we moved in harmony. Every time we made love, we improved in our efforts to please each other, and it was magnificent.

  Her legs squeezed my waist, urging me, and our orgasms overtook us. Watching her shiver and smile, I loved her. I wanted to tell her, but I was pretty sure she didn’t feel the same. I was a target, the subject of her life’s work, and I still didn’t care. Am I making the same mistake twice? What about the auburn-haired girl of my dream? Haven’t I been a cog in that machine before?

  “Mmmm.” Berkeley traced my face with a fingertip. “What about that bet?”

  “Twenty kilometers tonight? What about it?”

  “If we make twenty tonight, I’ll make dinner for a week.”

  “If we don’t make twenty klicks tonight, what do I have to give you?”

  Chewing on her lip for a second, she said, “More of this.”

  “Why don’t you stack the deck against me?” I rolled to her side, still holding her to my chest. “You have to give me a chance, Berkeley.”

  Her eyelids fluttered for a second, and her mouth dropped open. “I am trying to do just that.”

  “Give me a chance?”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes. “A chance to live.”

  “What just happened? Were you talking to someone else?”

  She blinked and focused her eyes on mine. “Had a message from a friend, that’s all.”

  The look on her face—a detached moment of concern followed by the effort to conceal it—riled my dormant temper. “This is all for your movie, isn’t it? I mean, I found the camera in your pack. You’re filming me, aren’t you?”

  “What? No!”

  Trying not to shake my head at my own stupidity, I said, “Whatever, Berkeley.”

  She rolled away, upset. I’d managed to screw up again. As the sun started down toward the horizon, we hardly spoke to each other. After we packed our gear, we lay together again. With our naked bodies together, Berkeley fell asleep quickly, but rest wouldn’t come to me. Two hours before sunset, I made my decision. Berkeley’s warm back against my skin beckoned to me, though it wasn’t me she wanted. I couldn’t give her what she wanted because I didn’t know what it was.

  That I’d
not told her a lot of the little things I remembered did not matter. She wanted that moment of recognition, to see it and record it for the world to see. I could not give that to her. Clarity broke like a sunrise. I was up and into my clothing before giving it a second thought. She’s not my type. It would never work—all the same old lines. I grabbed the handle atop my backpack and stepped into the vestibule. Berkeley never moved. I looked at her one last time—the soft smile on her face and her long legs under the blanket. I bet this won’t be the last decision I second-guess myself about.

  I shouldered my backpack and stepped outside. For some odd reason, snowshoeing was easier when I was trying to get away.

  “Where are you going?”

  I froze midstep.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I turned around. Berkeley stood barefoot in the snow, wrapped in only our thin fleece blankets.

  “For a walk.”

  “Bullshit.” She spat. “You’re leaving, aren’t you? You were going to leave me here alone, weren’t you?”

  “You aren’t here for me, Berkeley. You’re recording me. Using me. Making me a subject of a documentary when all I want to do is figure out who I am, where I’m supposed to go, and who I’m supposed to be! You’re using me to get whatever fame and fortune you want.”

  Berkeley stamped her feet. “That’s not what I’m doing at all! What do you mean ‘fame and fortune’?”

  “My guidance program alerted me that a considerable amount of bandwidth was being used in the hexhab. We weren’t using the entertainment systems, and I was virtually unplugged. Mally told me that you film documentaries. I connected the dots.”

  Her eyes came back to mine. “What else is she telling you about me?”

  “Not much.” I shrugged. “But then, you probably want it that way, don’t you? And the bandwidth—”

  “But bandwidth doesn’t mean—”