completely unexpected or unreasonable. Prandra
was not only a brilliant scientist but was also a shrewd person in
general – not like most of the head-in-the-sand researchers. She
had been willing to put herself under the knife early on, to try
out Septagon Shadow’s less unpredictable human augmentations – such
as her cybernetic eye. And she loved the power and control she had
over her subjects. No, her interest had never been merely scientific.
So the question he had to ask himself was
this: freeze her out and risk a problem, or accept her bid to get
more involved?
Because she was the head of the project –
hell, she was the project - he chose the latter. “All right.
But only you. Operational security is imperative, even from –
especially from – our local benefactors.”
“I understand,” Prandra said. “But I can read
the cards quite clearly. We have ten S-3 Shadows now, the latest
and best we’ve ever produced. No more glitches, no more mental
instabilities. They’re reliable, completely under our control. Soon
enough we’ll have a hundred, then a thousand. But what will we do
with them? Even a thousand are not enough to retake North America
for ourselves.”
“Who said anything about North America? Why
bother, when we can carve out our own empire somewhere
less…resistant. Somewhere with a tradition of autocracy, whose
people are used to submitting to the iron hand. Rule by fear is
much more effective than rule by brute force.”
“Carve out an empire? The world is rapidly
turning into a science-fiction Disneyland. Every nation that joins
the Free Communities is quickly brought under the Council’s wing
and large-scale corruption is stamped out. The ones who don’t want
that join the Neutral States to get some political cover and retain
what independence they can. but the NS won’t tolerate gross
misconduct either. Where else is there?”
“China and Russia are still their own
masters. North Korea is as closed and surreal as ever, since the
Chinese still find them useful. And a few islands – Madagascar, Sri
Lanka, some of the smaller ones.”
“That’s just my point,” Prandra said with
exasperation. “What’s left? Where’s our place? I want to continue
my research unfettered, and I don’t want to be hunted down and put
on trial for war crimes.”
“Exactly. So where can we retain some
independence and, at the same time, be safe from the
do-gooders?”
“Do get to the point, Winthrop. Play your
guessing games with someone else. Where will we go?” She covered
her anger by finishing her tea and pouring more.
“Right here.” He spread his hands, taking in
their surroundings.
“What?”
“We stay here…and take over Russia.” Jenkins
smiled, sitting back with his tea in his hand.
“You’re mad.” Prandra stood up to look out
the window, not wanting to show her dismay.
“Not at all. I have a plan, and now that you
wanted in on it, I’ll explain how you’re going to help me.” He
reached into his pocket and took out a metal vial, setting it on
the table.
The sound of its hard contact caused her to
turn and look. “And that is?”
Winthrop smiled. “They call it
‘nanocrack’.”
-8-
“Ready?” Ken Jackson, the cybernetics
technician, asked from behind the thick armored glass
partition.
“Ready,” Jill Repeth replied.
“Any time, then.”
Jill stared at her left palm, and the two
naked electrical contacts implanted there. Then she placed it
against the grip held in a vise attached to the electrical
workbench, and without further hesitation, triggered the
discharge.
Her whole body jolted as electricity bled
through her hand and out her body, but most of it went where it was
supposed to: into the device, whose current function was to measure
its efficacy.
“Excellent! Over ninety-nine percent delivery
to target. How do you feel?”
“A bit tingly, but nothing I can’t handle.
Healing already.” More importantly, it appeared her
was not only a brilliant scientist but was also a shrewd person in
general – not like most of the head-in-the-sand researchers. She
had been willing to put herself under the knife early on, to try
out Septagon Shadow’s less unpredictable human augmentations – such
as her cybernetic eye. And she loved the power and control she had
over her subjects. No, her interest had never been merely scientific.
So the question he had to ask himself was
this: freeze her out and risk a problem, or accept her bid to get
more involved?
Because she was the head of the project –
hell, she was the project - he chose the latter. “All right.
But only you. Operational security is imperative, even from –
especially from – our local benefactors.”
“I understand,” Prandra said. “But I can read
the cards quite clearly. We have ten S-3 Shadows now, the latest
and best we’ve ever produced. No more glitches, no more mental
instabilities. They’re reliable, completely under our control. Soon
enough we’ll have a hundred, then a thousand. But what will we do
with them? Even a thousand are not enough to retake North America
for ourselves.”
“Who said anything about North America? Why
bother, when we can carve out our own empire somewhere
less…resistant. Somewhere with a tradition of autocracy, whose
people are used to submitting to the iron hand. Rule by fear is
much more effective than rule by brute force.”
“Carve out an empire? The world is rapidly
turning into a science-fiction Disneyland. Every nation that joins
the Free Communities is quickly brought under the Council’s wing
and large-scale corruption is stamped out. The ones who don’t want
that join the Neutral States to get some political cover and retain
what independence they can. but the NS won’t tolerate gross
misconduct either. Where else is there?”
“China and Russia are still their own
masters. North Korea is as closed and surreal as ever, since the
Chinese still find them useful. And a few islands – Madagascar, Sri
Lanka, some of the smaller ones.”
“That’s just my point,” Prandra said with
exasperation. “What’s left? Where’s our place? I want to continue
my research unfettered, and I don’t want to be hunted down and put
on trial for war crimes.”
“Exactly. So where can we retain some
independence and, at the same time, be safe from the
do-gooders?”
“Do get to the point, Winthrop. Play your
guessing games with someone else. Where will we go?” She covered
her anger by finishing her tea and pouring more.
“Right here.” He spread his hands, taking in
their surroundings.
“What?”
“We stay here…and take over Russia.” Jenkins
smiled, sitting back with his tea in his hand.
“You’re mad.” Prandra stood up to look out
the window, not wanting to show her dismay.
“Not at all. I have a plan, and now that you
wanted in on it, I’ll explain how you’re going to help me.” He
reached into his pocket and took out a metal vial, setting it on
the table.
The sound of its hard contact caused her to
turn and look. “And that is?”
Winthrop smiled. “They call it
‘nanocrack’.”
-8-
“Ready?” Ken Jackson, the cybernetics
technician, asked from behind the thick armored glass
partition.
“Ready,” Jill Repeth replied.
“Any time, then.”
Jill stared at her left palm, and the two
naked electrical contacts implanted there. Then she placed it
against the grip held in a vise attached to the electrical
workbench, and without further hesitation, triggered the
discharge.
Her whole body jolted as electricity bled
through her hand and out her body, but most of it went where it was
supposed to: into the device, whose current function was to measure
its efficacy.
“Excellent! Over ninety-nine percent delivery
to target. How do you feel?”
“A bit tingly, but nothing I can’t handle.
Healing already.” More importantly, it appeared her
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