The hum of voices and whir of machinery ebbed and flowed like a sea under the gales of a rolling storm. Workers in lab coats mixed with uniformed personnel, their faces awash with the light of several hundred screens. The seven crystal pods that rose in their midst were like statues of pagan gods, beset by terrified worshipers.
General Hull stood in front of one such giant. The room was kept a few degrees above freezing, but the air around the pods nearly sizzled with the amount of energy the machines consumed. The General glanced at a massive console manned by no less than three VELES technicians. The data scrolling onto the screens was as foreign to him as a bird's song.
"Status?" he demanded.
One of the men startled in place. He turned eyes bruised from lack of sleep to General Hull and repeated a phrase that had become a mantra over the past hours.
"Readings are steady."
"Any trace of the asset?"
The technician shook his head. He watched General Hull's face as nervously as he did the screens monitoring Lieutenant Arendse's vitals.
General Hull held back a sharp command for a more thorough report. He was aware of his own limitations when it came to the ungodly technology in VELES' labs. More information would not lead to better understanding, only frustration, and the General knew better than to unleash his temper. The VELES personnel were already stepping lightly around their uniformed guards. There was no need to further alienate their skittish hosts.
A soldier approached at a fast clip. The General turned his eyes away from the domed pod, nodding impatiently in response to the man's salute.
"General. Visitors at the door," the man said.
"Send them back," the General said shortly. The compound had been fielding representatives from various governmental branches and political parties all day. General Hull's patience was worn to shreds.
The soldier didn't retreat. "Sir, they are already inside. They have a signed way of passage from -"
"I don't care what they have!" General Hull snapped. He strode toward the door at the other end of the hangar, the milling personnel darting out of his way. A part of him was glad for a chance to channel his frustration into a tangible target. His steps slowed when he caught sight of two men surrounded by a retinue of guards. He cursed under his breath.
The men, too, marked his arrival. "General Hull," one of them greeted, voice like steel. His face was familiar although General Hull had never had the opportunity to meet the man in person. Bradley Covey, head of the INFINITE group among other conglomerates, could not keep a low profile even if he tried.
His companion, on the other hand, was entirely a stranger. The man offered a jaunty wave, leaning languidly against an oddly-shaped cane.
"Mr. Covey. I understand your concern, but I cannot allow you entry," the General said.
He kept his voice flat, but some of his disdain showed in his eyes. Rich men always thought themselves above law and order. The fact that this particular rich man might indeed have the President's signature in his back pocket and a carte blanche to waltz into what was now effectively a black site didn't improve the General's mood one bit.
Covey didn't acknowledge the dismissal. His eyes were a pale blue that looked gray in the ghostly light of the screens gleaming in the darkened hanger. They locked onto the General's, unflinching and unforgiving.
"I am here for my son."
General Hull held onto diplomacy with the last vestiges of patience remaining in him after almost a full day without rest. "Mr. Covey, your son is an adult. His participation in this project is voluntary and he was fully informed of the risks involved. Attempting a forced extraction will jeopardize the entire mission, not to mention your son's health."
"I am not asking for permission, General," Covey said. The bullish stubbornness in the set of his jaw had the General bristling in response.
"Even if you have permission to attempt such a thing -" General Hull ground out.
"I do," Covey said.
"- you do not have the means," the General finished flatly. He understood little of the technology behind the virtual worlds VELES built, but the impossibility of withdrawing a team once it was deployed had been made crystal clear to all involved. It was small comfort to be able to weaponize that weakness in the face of Covey's heavy-handed assault.
Covey didn't anger or falter, as the General had expected. He motioned for his companion instead. The man with the cane stepped forward with a sly smile.
"That's where I come in," he said.
"And who the hell are you?" General Hull snapped, well beyond pretenses of civility.
"An ace in your sleeve," the man said.
"They are both cleared for entry," an aide told General Hull in a low voice.
General Hull waved the words away. When the man with the cane strode forward, the General moved to block his path, heedless of the urgings of his staff or the frosty look on Covey's face.
"Your name," he demanded in a tone that brokered no argument.
The man with the cane stopped his advance. Instead of obedience, his acquiesce to the General's attempt at intimidation looked almost like indulgence, like an adult playing along with a child's tantrum. The gleam in those foxlike eyes had the General bristling.
"I can give you ten," the man said, smiling thinly. "It's not what I call myself that matters, General. It's what I can do that you should worry about."
"Enough," Covey snapped. He handed a sealed envelope to an aide, who then cautiously offered it to the General.
The signature scrawled over the top flap had the General's mouth pressing into a frown. He tore it open and skimmed the contents. His expression only darkened further.
"Campaign contributions sure get a man far," he sneered.
Covey's face didn't shift from its stony cast. "You have no idea," the man said softly.
"I hate to interrupt the d- ah," the man with the cane coughed, seeming to change his words halfway as he took in their surroundings and marked the baby-faced techs eavesdropping nearby, "scintillating conversation, but we really should get started. That boy can't afford to lose any more braincells."
Covey glared at the man, then turned those cold eyes to the General. "Stay out of my way," he said simply.
The duo shouldered past. The guards looked at General Hull for instructions. The General ground his teeth but had them stand down in the end. The letter penned in the President's hand crumpled in his fist.
"Run that man through facial recognition," he ordered in a low voice.
"Running, sir," a soldier confirmed.
General Hull waited impatiently, eyes on the two men. They had found their way to Frances Covey's pod. The VELES techs cleared the attached console. The man with the cane took their place, producing a holographic screen of his own that filled with scrolling data. The techs flocked closer despite their initial wariness. Excited murmurs broke the stagnant silence that lay over the room.
"Report," the General demanded.
The soldier in charge of the search replied after a moment of hesitation. "There are over twenty matches, sir."
That caught the General's attention. "Impossible. Run the search again."
"We have, sir. Several times," the soldier responded.
"The count is up to thirty-three, and rising," another aide added, offering her pad for the General to study. The rows upon rows of names and biographic data had General Hull hacking out an angry laugh.
"Seize him," the General thundered.
A group of soldiers quickly moved to obey the order. The General marched forward, chased by his aide and a harried woman in a VELES uniform. The ID swinging from her neck read, Lisa Oberon.
"General," the woman called, looking harried. "You can't interrupt - this is highly delicate work. One mistake, and young Mr. Covey will be lost to us forever!"
General Hull vaguely recalled the woman attending the private briefings concerning the mission. She was high enough in VELES' ranks to be afforded some consideration.
"Thirty-three identities, and counting," General Hull said, not slowing his gait. "Can you think of an innocent reason for a man to assume so many false lives, Miss Oberon? I certainly cannot."
Not to mention, how brazenly unconcerned the man was with the inevitable discovery. The possibility that the man with the cane - Andrew, Aleric, Bergel, Dylan, whatever his actual name - was taunting them only served to make General Hull angrier.
Oberon sidestepped the topic. "Whatever his background, if he is able to extract Mr. Covey, his presence is well-worth a pardon." Faced with General Hull's quelling glare, the woman amended, "Temporary pardon. He cannot leave the building. What harm is there in letting him make an attempt?"
"You would trust a criminal with VELES' networks?" the General asked.
Oberon fell silent. General Hull let out a cold snort. The woman's priorities were badly misaligned, and he did not much care for the reason. She would not escape scrutiny once the debacle of a mission came to a close.
The pod was surrounded. Covey senior stood guard by the man General Hull was only too eager to drag off for questioning. The VELES techs had not retreated, but instead formed a shuffling wall between the soldiers and the man with the cane. Whatever prowess the man exhibited had inspired immediate and startling loyalty.
"You do not want to cross me, Hull," Covey said.
General Hull looked past the man, to where his nameless companion sifted through screens filled with shifting code. The glasses the man wore, the General noted, had turned opaque. They reminded General Hull of the visors worn in those damned death-machines VR companies peddled as entertainment.
"We will not interrupt his work," the General allowed begrudgingly. He was not foolish enough to actually attempt to apprehend the man while he had Frances Covey's life in his hands. "Do you trust this man, Mr. Covey?"
"Don't answer that," the man with the cane called. "He's trying to nail you as an accomplice. I wonder if the General will inform me of my crime? Or am I to learn of it at the stand."
General Hull ground his teeth. "Interfering with government records carries a heavy penalty." Not to mention that the records in question were designed as unique identifiers, impossible to hack or alter. "Care to elaborate on the purpose behind your aliases?"
The man with the cane smirked, fingers flying over several holographic displays. "You must be mistaken. I am a law-abiding citizen. As good as invisible, as far as anyone's concerned."
"Focus," Covey snapped.
"I work best distracted," the man said, then added without turning, "Don't frown, Brad. It'll give you wrinkles."
Covey frowned harder.
"General," an aide whispered, looking wild around the eyes, "The records are gone. There's no match in the network."
"What?"
General Hull grabbed the pad. The software cycled through its search, refreshing every few seconds. A blank page glared beneath. The rows upon rows of disparate identities were gone without a trace, leaving not a single anchor behind. An impossible feat.
Infuriating, too. The threat to national security implied by the casual slight was no short of catastrophic, and it was treated as a joke. General Hull seethed.
"Keep an eye on the room," the General snapped. He was starting to realize that a bigger game was afoot, and he would be a fool to think the man with the cane the sole threat.
The hanger was already under surveillance, but the command had security tightening. The VELES techs fluttered around the consoles with open unease. The soldiers in their midst watched them like hawks waiting for a chance to swoop.
"Get a med team on standby," the man with the cane spoke, breaking the hush.
Covey let out a punched-out breath of relief. He swept a look over the General, then Oberon, who was already tapping away at her pad. The crystal pod opened with a hiss. The console attached to the pod had gone dark, safely offline.
The medical team arrived within minutes. Covey boarded the platform, accompanied by two medics and a gurney. The podium reached the top and Frances Covey was summarily pulled out of the domed pod, by all accounts still breathing.
Oberon descended on the man with the cane, accompanied by no fewer than a dozen eager techs. They looked at the man like he was a god. He had certainly worked a small miracle, by all accounts the General had heard of the mess that was the VELES network.
"Sir, if he can extract the others," an aide offered hesitantly.
General Hull clenched his jaw, but did not shoot the notion down. He was no stranger to hard compromises for the sake of higher goals.
The man with the glasses didn't entertain his fawning fans for long. He broke through the circle of white coats and headed for General Hull. The taunting smile was gone, the man's demeanor turning cold and focused in a manner that had General Hull reassessing the level of threat the man presented once again.
"Where is Maya Barton?" he asked.
"What do you need with Barton?" the General threw back.
The man leaned against his cane, his long fingers tapping over the handle. "The wolf is in the house. Surely, you were aware."
General Hull frowned. Lisa Oberon, following closely behind the man, stumbled in her steps.
"Maya?" she said. Unconsciously, she turned toward one of the pods. "No. You must be mistaken. Maya loves her work. She would never -"
There was no chance to learn what Maya Barton would or wouldn't do as at that moment, her pod exploded in a small supernova of electricity and cables and glass.
A man stood in front of the console attached to Barton's pod. He alone did not run from the explosion, and when he became the target of raised weapons and shouted commands, simply raised his hands in the air, face placid.
"Brian, why?" Oberon demanded. She struggled to approach, held at bay by a line of grim-faced soldiers. Her voice was shredded from screaming and desperate sobs.
Brian Sipos offered the room at large a serene smile.
"It was what Maya wanted," he said. "You don't understand. None of you do. But you will."
"You will."