Distant Worlds Volume 2 Page 24

  If the truck’s batteries had ruptured, he wouldn’t have much time to escape.

  Clambering down from the wreckage, he could make out only the faintest outlines of his surroundings. Something big rested on the ground a few feet from the cab. He reached out to touch it.

  The hover cart.

  It must have been thrown clear of the truck bed during the crash. He retrieved the cart’s remote from his pocket and hit the power button. The cart hummed to life, and reoriented itself. Dmitri climbed onto the cart and found the intact crate still strapped to its bed.

  “Not for nothing, Ninel.” He directed the cart deeper into the tunnel. Behind him, the truck’s batteries ruptured, engulfing the vehicle and filling the tunnel with superheated flames.

  By the time the military patrol managed to extinguish the blaze, Dmitri would be long gone.

  “I’ll make them pay, Ninel.” He rested his weary head against the crate. “For you, for Katerina, for Inga, for me, for everyone.”

  Moscow, Russia: December 20, 2418

  The metro car swayed gently back and forth as it shot through the subterranean passageways beneath the city. When he was younger, Dmitri loved riding the metro for hours on end, stopping to gawk at every station and watching busy citizens shuffling from one stop to the next. If Moscow was a living, breathing creature, the metro was its arteries, sustaining the city with the boundless energy of its hardworking citizenry.

  Those faces didn’t look energetic to him now. Instead, he saw men and women enslaved to the ceaseless demands of the monstrous society that swelled above them like a cancerous tumor. Although they stood only inches away from their fellow citizens, they might as well have been standing alone in the center of a barren salt flat. Every one of them was dying a bit at a time, some of loneliness, some of anger, some of fear, but none of them realized it.

  Not yet.

  They were moving so fast that they couldn’t see the world flying by in a blur, couldn’t look down to notice the scores of miserable wretches bearing the weight of an unjust world upon their shoulders. Some of them, the more introspective and insightful among their number, knew this on an intellectual level, but they lacked the capacity to actually understand what it meant.

  Not yet.

  Ninel understood. She’d fought her whole life to rip those blinders from their eyes, to turn those delusions to ash in their mouths. Ninel believed in the truth. She’d struggled for it.

  And she’d died for it.

  Inga understood. She’d seen the world for what it was, beheld its true nature in all its terrible majesty. The sight left a scar upon her soul that she sought to soothe with drink, drugs, and despair. He didn’t know how to help her then, so he’d left her behind. Left her to waste away and die in peace, untainted by his endless, misguided promises.

  Dmitri hadn’t understood it for a long time. Even after he met Ninel, he clung to his old, comforting illusions. He struggled for some way to put it all to right, to upend reality with the same sort of ideals he once sought to instill within impressionable minds. But after he saw Ninel die in that truck cab, he finally understood.

  The promise of a better future was a lie, a comforting fable that kept men and women the world over entrenched in abject misery. No amount of reform or persuasion could hope to undo centuries of injustice and set the world on a better path.

  A true revolution required something more extreme, something momentous to bring about an entirely new way of thinking.

  Katerina would understand, he knew. Poor, innocent Katerina. She saw the world for true that night they dragged her from her bedroom in restraints. After two years in the resistance, Dmitri knew what the ACC’s secret police agencies did with their captives. How long did she last under the ONY’s tender questioning? Did she cry out for him in her final moments?

  Help, Papa!

  Someone shook his shoulder.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  He blinked and glanced at Pavel. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “We’re almost there. You ready?”

  Dmitri nodded. “Let’s move.”

  Pavel made his way to the front of the metro car, where an access door connected it to the next car in line. Dmitri took position near the emergency exit at the back and glanced at his watch. Somewhere aboard the train, tucked away out of sight of the security cameras, Gregorii had hacked into the metro network. He’d already scrambled the facial recognition algorithms to prevent them from flagging Dmitri and Pavel as security risks, just as he’d done two years ago to help sneak two dozen potential suicide bombers onto a job site to kill a visiting executive.

  Dmitri counted off the seconds.

  Three…

  Two…

  One…

  Mark.

  The train car’s lights blinked once and then went dark. Brief power outages were hardly unusual on the metro, but when the lights failed to come back on after a few seconds, the passengers grew restless. Gregorii made an announcement over the intercom that their car was experiencing technical difficulties and asked them to please move to the next car. The passengers dutifully obeyed. When the last one was out, Pavel closed the access door and locked it.

  Five minutes later, the train reached the next station. Gregorii tripped the brakes early, leaving the back end of the last car out of sight from the station cameras and the guards standing watch on the metro platform.

  Dmitri opened the emergency door and found the sewer access grate located twenty yards inside the tunnel. The resistance had scouted the metro lines for months trying to find such an ideal location. He leapt down from the train and hurried over to lift the grate. A lead-sheathed box the size of a large suitcase lay hidden just underneath it. When he grabbed the case’s handle, an array of microrepulsor units hummed to life, allowing Dmitri to lift the heavy thing like it was only a fraction of its actual weight. He dragged it over to the metro car and hauled it inside. Pavel met him there to close the emergency door.

  “That’s it,” Pavel said. “We’ve got it!”

  Gregorii kept the train at the station for about three times as long as a conventional stop, but he couldn’t hold it there for much longer without arousing undue suspicion. They didn’t dare use any communication devices that might be picked up by the metro station’s security scanners. Their actions therefore had to conform to a rigid timetable.

  Luckily, Dmitri hauled their deadly cargo aboard with about thirty seconds to spare.

  The train pulled out of the station, the last car still draped in darkness and its doors locked tight. Dmitri took a seat alongside the case, which he left sitting in the aisle.

  Twenty more minutes and it would all be over.

  Or was it beginning?

  He had a hard time telling the difference anymore.

  “You remember the sequence?” Pavel asked.

  “Yeah.”

  The warhead could have been detonated remotely, of course, but they couldn’t take the chance of the signal getting scrambled.

  If they wanted to avoid being foiled by a network security program or defense operator, they needed to trigger it manually.

  Of course, that also meant none of them would be coming back if their mission succeeded.

  Dmitri didn’t particularly care if he lived or died. Not anymore. All that mattered was making sure that the people he cared about most hadn’t suffered for nothing.

  They passed the next three stations without incident. Dmitri peered out the window at each stop. He’d visited all of them at one point or another, and he always spotted some detail that jarred his memory. What really struck him, though, was the sight of so many citizens going about their daily business.

  Had he really been just as blind?

  After two more stops, they finally reached the inner ring of the Moscow metro system. Soon, the train would pass beneath the political and cultural heart of the city, Capital Square. There the ACC’s board of directors pulled the vast network of puppet strings that kept their self-
absorbed executives and citizens dancing, trampling the common workers of the world beneath their steel shod boots.

  No more. Not after today.

  At the next stop, Dmitri glanced out the window and felt his blood turn to ice.

  A young woman stood on the loading platform, one face among a crowd of citizens waiting to board a train. She watched the train pull in from the tunnel, her eyes a light shade of hazel that looked almost golden when the light hit them just right.

  Dmitri jumped up from his seat and stared.

  “Katti?”

  Pavel told him to get away from the window, but Dmitri couldn’t hear him. He could do nothing but stare at the young woman who looked so much like his lost daughter.

  She was about the right age. Her hair was much shorter than she’d preferred, but the color seemed right.

  And the eyes…

  How could he mistake those eyes?

  Dmitri ran to the door and unlocked it before Pavel could stop him. He passed into the next car and joined the flow of passengers stepping out onto the platform.

  Pushing against the crowd, he tried to make his way over to her. Before he was halfway there, however, she turned, her gaze sweeping over his head.

  Had she seen him?

  If she did, she gave no indication of it.

  She stepped forward to board the train Dmitri had just stepped off.

  The train carrying a one and a half megaton nuclear warhead.

  Frantic, Dmitri spun around and shoved past several commuters to squeeze between the train’s doors just before they slid shut. He made his way toward the front of the car as it began to move, scanning every face intently as he went.

  He knew he’d seen her. He couldn’t have imagined it.

  When he advanced to the next car, he spotted some commotion ahead. Pushing past the gawking passengers, Dmitri got about halfway to the next car before he caught a glimpse of a woman dragging a slender man out from what looked to be an equipment closet. She reached behind his ear and yanked hard to pull a cable free from an M3 input jack, which sent him tumbling to the floor in spasms.

  Gregorii.

  The woman looked up and stared directly at Dmitri. He recognized that ageless face, the gray eyes like cold iron.

  She smiled.

  Dmitri turned to run, shoving passengers aside to get back to the last car. He had to trigger the device now, before that dread woman could stop them.

  Had he actually seen Katerina or had it been a trick of some kind?

  Pavel appeared in the doorway before he reached it, his eyes wild. “The lights are back on! Something’s wr—”

  A gunshot rang out and the back of Pavel’s skull exploded as a bullet punched through his forehead. He fell backward onto a seated passenger as several other people screamed.

  Dmitri kept running, ducking his head as he pushed by the panicked commuters. Pavel had left the door to the last car hanging open. He bounded over the threshold, slammed the door shut behind him, and threw the lock into place. The case lay where he left it at the back of the car. He ran over to it and pried the lid open. A tangle of wires connected the warhead to a small detonator.

  All he had to do was activate it, punch in the access code, and—

  Someone knocked at the door.

  He looked up to find Katerina’s face staring back at him.

  Her voice rang out in his head, every bit as clear as the last time he’d heard it.

  “Papa, don’t!”

  Dmitri hesitated. The door’s locking mechanism whirred as someone triggered it remotely.

  He’d forgotten that Gregorii didn’t control the train’s security system anymore.

  The door swung open to reveal the gray-eyed woman standing at the threshold.

  She raised her pistol and fired.

  The bullet caught him squarely in the chest, throwing him back against the emergency exit.

  His body went numb and his ears throbbed as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

  The ONY woman stalked over to him and lifted her wrist to her mouth.

  “I need medical assistance to my GPS immediately. Security priority alpha. Repeat: Security priority alpha.”

  Her voice faded away as a warm darkness seeped into his mind.

  Moscow, Russia: December 4, 2415

  What’s taking so long? Katerina’s asking for you.

  The message was from Inga, his wife. She never messaged him unless it was urgent.

  Dmitri flicked his wrist to summon a glowing holopad. A few swift keystrokes caused the university grounds to dissolve into blackness. He floated in the dark for several seconds before weight and sensation returned to his body. The chair beneath him made his lower back ache, and the senshelmet’s triodes chafed against his temples and forehead. After taking ten deep breaths to let his brain adjust to its surroundings, he removed the senshelmet.

  The room he called his study was little more than a closet. He barely had enough space for his SetunTech Trinity deck and senshelmet rig, but it was the only area in the flat where he could have a measure of privacy. After shutting down his equipment, Dmitri unlocked the door and stepped out into the main hallway.

  “About time you finished up,” Inga said, poking her head through the doorway leading to the living room.

  Dmitri shrugged. “I keep waiting for one of them to surprise me. Maybe next semester.”

  “Well, Katerina’s been asking to see you all day.”

  “I know. I got your message. How is she?”

  “Better,” Inga said. “I think she’ll be well enough to go to school tomorrow.”

  “Good. I’d hate for her to fall behind.”

  Dmitri made his way down the hall to Katerina’s room. Her door was ajar, but he still knocked before entering.

  “Katti?”

  “Come in, Papa.”

  He pushed the door open. Her room was much more organized than he remembered. Nothing looked out of place. Even her mother didn’t do such a good job of tidying up.

  Katerina sat on the edge of her bed, hands on her lap. She’d changed into her school uniform, which seemed a bit odd considering that she’d stayed home sick today.

  “Hello, Papa,” she said. “How are you today?”

  Dmitri raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I suppose. Since when are you so formal?”

  She shrugged. “Just practicing for school, I guess. Won’t you sit down?”

  He pulled the chair out from her desk and sat. “Your mother said you wanted to see me about something?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s… um… I just wanted to ask you a few things. You know, about your work.”

  “Uh huh. Well, I’m afraid the history department isn’t always the most exciting place in the world, but ask away.”

  “What do you know about revolutionary movements, Papa?”

  The question took him by surprise. Katerina was a smart girl, but she’d never expressed much interest in history.

  “Not very much, I’m afraid,” he said. “That’s not really my field.”

  She flinched and glanced up at the ceiling, almost as if she’d heard something.

  “What is it?” Dmitri asked.

  “N… nothing,” she said. “You must know something, Papa. Something about revolutions right here in Moscow? My teacher told us that there are revolutionaries hiding under the streets even now!”

  The comment made him sit up straight. An image of a truck rolling over passed through his mind, and of a bomb on a train car.

  “I… I don’t know, Katti. Maybe I can find someone who—”

  “No, Papa!” Her hand shot out to grab his leg. “Please. Think really hard. I’m sure you must know something.”

  “What’s gotten into you, girl?” he said, standing up. He felt hot, closed in. “Listen, why don’t we talk about this later. It’s almost time for dinner.”

  “Papa, wait! Please don’t go!”

  He turned and left Katerina’s room. The conversation made him feel uncomforta
ble, as if she’d disturbed something deep inside him. He walked down the hallway to the family room and stopped.

  A strange woman with short black hair sat on the couch next to his wife. Her face was young, but hard, marred by several deep scars.

  Inga perked up when she saw him. “Oh, there you are, Dmitri. This is Ninel. She says she used to work with you.”

  Katerina appeared behind him to place her hand on his shoulder.

  “Sit down, Papa. Please.”

  His head throbbed as he eased into a reclining chair in the living room. Inga and Ninel stared at him, their expressions frozen like statues.

  Katerina sat in the chair across the table from him.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “I don’t have much time, Papa.”

  “Time? What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

  Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “Please, Papa. Just tell me what you know. It… it’ll be easier that way. I know this is hard for you, but you have to understand how important this is to me.”

  The knocking sounded again, louder this time.

  “Katti, I want to help you. More than anything I want to help you, but I don’t know—”

  “Yes, you do, Papa!” She was nearly shouting now. “You do know. You’ve… you’ve done bad things, Papa. I know you were just doing what you thought was right, but… but…”

  The knocking at the door grew thunderous, shaking the entire apartment. When he looked back to his daughter, she was different. Older, harder.

  “They want names, Papa. Names, places. Everything. Please… they’ll… they’ll hurt me if I don’t get them.”

  A voice boomed out from behind the door, but it felt as if it seeped through every wall in the apartment.

  “Time is running out, Subject 372.”

  Dmitri glanced over at the couch. Inga had slouched backward, her face twisted and pathetic. She clutched a bottle of clear liquid close to her chest. Ninel… Ninel was unrecognizable, her upper body a twisted mass of ruined flesh and splintered bone.

  “Papa!”

  Katerina towered over him, her eyes roiling like liquid fire.

  The voice cried out again, this time shattering every piece of glass in the apartment. “This is your last chance, Subject 372!”