Influx

  Hedrick frowned and exchanged confused glances with Morrison. “Who the hell . . . How are you speaking here? Who is that?”

  But then a look of realization came across Morrison’s face.

  “Ah, Morry figured it out.”

  Hedrick glared at the ceiling. “Cotton!”

  “Very good, Graham.”

  Grady stared at the ceiling, feeling a sense of hope grow within him. He glanced over at Alexa, who was also looking up—though tears still coated her cheeks.

  “I know it’s rude, eavesdropping like this, but I figured since you were swinging your big dick around, I might weigh in.”

  “How are you doing this, Cotton? How are you accessing our comm network?” Hedrick then closed his eyes in frustration. “Varuna . . .”

  “Never knew her myself. No, you forget that infiltration was my specialty. I’m a criminal genius. Remember? That’s why Hollinger hired me. And there’s nothing like inside help—especially an insider who can move around places where he doesn’t belong without raising suspicions. Someone with the perfect disguise.”

  A holographic screen suddenly appeared above them, and Richard Cotton appeared in all his long-haired glory, a technological Wyatt Earp in jeans and a black T-shirt leaning on the edge of his workbench. Moments later a young Morrison clone came up alongside him and nodded toward the screen. “Hey, Dad.”

  Morrison screamed at the hologram. “You son of a bitch! Which one are you?”

  Cotton laughed. “I guess you’ll never know.”

  Morrison raged at the screen, grabbing a nearby Victorian contraption and hurling it through Cotton’s image. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Cotton! I—” He punched his fist through a nearby cabinet.

  Hedrick gave a dark stare to Morrison.

  Morrison snapped his fingers and pointed to his men. “Now! Get down to the Gravitics—”

  “Ah-ah, Mr. Morrison, let’s have none of that. Because thanks to the sacrifice of some very courageous biological and synthetic people, I now have access to a little toy, which I have been busy targeting these last few minutes.”

  Morrison had a sudden look of dread on his face.

  “You’re batting a thousand, Mr. Morrison.”

  Hedrick shook his head dismissively. “You’ll have to do better than that, Cotton. You may have had one of Morrison’s clones access the comm system, but you can’t have seized control of Kratos unless you’re actually in the building.” Hedrick glanced at a holographic screen of his own. “And I can see you’re not in the building.”

  “You have to be creative, Graham. A relay would do it. Here. How about this . . . ?” On-screen Cotton stabbed at a holographic control panel.

  Moments later the entire building felt as though it hit a speed bump. Everything bounced up and off Hedrick’s desk. Artwork fell off the walls; curio cases tipped, some crashing. And the soldiers along with Morrison and Hedrick all lost their footing—everyone except Alexa and Grady, whose corticospinal software somehow managed to keep them on their feet.

  Alarms started wailing in the building again.

  As he climbed back onto his feet, Hedrick looked pale. He gripped the edge of his desk. “My God . . .”

  “There’s no reason to be that formal.”

  “How did you get control of Kratos?”

  “Does it really matter when we get right down to it? All you need to know is I have a gravity beam aimed straight down your goddamned throat, and I can turn you inside out anytime I please. So I suggest you start being much nicer to my associates.”

  Hedrick looked at Morrison. “How the hell did he get access to the array? You said we got to them in time.”

  “No one hires Mr. Morrison for his brains, Graham.”

  Hedrick looked panicked, his eyes darting around. “What do you want? I can get you anything you want. I can—”

  “First off, I want you to release Mr. Grady and Alexa.”

  Hedrick stared at Alexa.

  “I expect you to hop to it, Graham, or I’ll hop you to it . . .”

  The building lurched momentarily again, and as he clamored to his feet, Hedrick motioned to Morrison. “Let them go! Let them go!”

  From the way Morrison’s jaw muscles were working, he seemed to be grinding his teeth to powder as he made a holographic panel appear over his wrist and tapped several buttons.

  With a beep the corticospinal collars around Alexa and Grady’s necks fell to the floor. They both nearly collapsed as control of their limbs returned to them. They panted under their own breathing for several moments.

  Grady looked up at the holographic screen. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you, Cotton.”

  “And now their equipment, Graham.”

  Morrison lowered his head in dread.

  “I won’t ask twice.”

  Alexa marched up to Hedrick and grabbed her positron pistol from his desk—glaring at him with intense hatred as he cowered.

  “Alexa, you don’t understand the way the world works.”

  “Oh, I think I’m catching on real fast.” She whirled with great speed and slugged him in the jaw, sending him hurtling over the desk, clearing what remained of his toppled curio collection off the desktop with him.

  Cotton’s laughter echoed in the office. “Oh my God, I love it. I’m glad I recorded that. I’ll cherish this hologram forever.”

  Hedrick was thrashing around, trying to get back up, blood running from his nose and lips. “I only did what I thought was best!”

  Grady retrieved his gravis and helmet from the nearby guards, who were looking up at Cotton’s screen image nervously.

  “All right, all of you . . .” Cotton gestured to the soldiers. “Out! Get the hell out of this office. We’re going to have a high-level discussion.”

  They looked to Morrison.

  “Don’t look at him! He’s not in charge anymore. Get out!”

  The soldiers backed away toward the doors. Now that Varuna was gone, they had to manually hit the door control, after which they filed out, closing it behind them.

  Alexa walked up to Morrison and finished unbuckling his forearm braces and gauntlets—which housed his weapons. They exchanged malevolent stares as she did so. “Go ahead. I want you to make a move.”

  He took a deep breath but did nothing except hold up his hands in acquiescence.

  She pulled nonlethal weapons and equipment from his harness. “Everything—the armor, too.”

  Morrison sighed in disgust and then tapped a sequence on his arm that made his armor come apart. It started to fall off his arms and legs as Alexa kicked it away from him. He stood in front of her in his military uniform. “Didn’t fit right, anyway.”

  Hedrick was now holding a handkerchief against a bloody nose as he sat at his desk. “What do you want from us, Cotton? You know we had no choice!”

  “We all have choices, Graham. Some of us just make lousy ones.”

  Grady looked up at Cotton. “All right, Cotton. Call some help in here. Get in touch with the authorities, and let’s bring this all to an end. I need to find out where Hibernity is, and I need to rescue my friends.”

  Hedrick nodded. “You win, Cotton. We are your prisoners.”

  Morrison snapped an angry look at Hedrick. “Are you insane?”

  “Mr. Morrison, you may not have noticed, but we’ve lost.”

  “Maybe you’ve surrendered, but I’m not going so easily.”

  Hedrick held up one free palm. “I believe I have had enough.” He looked at Grady. “Let your sorry excuse for a government figure all this out. Believe me, they will be back before long, asking for assistance.”

  Grady stared at Hedrick while Alexa covered Morrison with her positron pistol. “Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, you’re going to face a human rights tribunal for Hibernity.”

/>   Hedrick laughed in spite of himself. “Yes, I’m certain. Let’s just get on with it.”

  Grady looked back up at Cotton on the screen. “C’mon, Cotton, bring the cavalry in here.”

  Cotton grimaced. “Yeah, Jon, about that . . .”

  Grady and Alexa exchanged concerned looks.

  “Stop joking around. Get the military in here. Call the feds.”

  “Ah, see here’s the thing: Hedrick’s right, Jon.”

  Even Hedrick looked up in surprise at that. “Come again?”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Cotton?” Grady stormed toward the screen. “Get the authorities!”

  “You see, you can’t just put the whole BTC in jail. Morrison, Hedrick—all these guys have advanced technologies that only BTC staff know well. Remember what happened to Wernher von Braun after World War Two? The Allies grabbed him, and he was put to work on the Apollo program.”

  Hedrick nodded. “Von Braun was a good man.”

  “See, Jon? Hedrick and all these guys will get off. The government will make a deal with them. They’ll want that head start. You watch, this whole place will be back in business within months.”

  Alexa stood by Grady and shouted at the screen. “What the hell are you saying, Cotton?”

  On-screen he winced and held up his hands. “I’m saying, you really need to tear the problem out by the roots.”

  Grady called up to him, “Stick to the plan, Cotton!”

  “That’s just it; this really always was the plan. My plan at least. Nothing personal . . .”

  “Cotton!”

  Hedrick and Morrison glowered at the screen, exchanging worried glances. Morrison finally held up his hands. “Okay, Cotton! I give up! You win. Just bring in the military.”

  Hedrick nodded. “Yes, we surrender.”

  “Right, but as you’ve often said, Hedrick: It’s for the greater good.”

  On-screen Cotton tapped a virtual button.

  Suddenly the entire BTC headquarters lurched—and everyone and everything in it went into free fall.

  CHAPTER 33

  Fallen

  Grady twisted around, struggling to right himself as he fell—then hit hard against the ceiling of Hedrick’s office. Curio cases, furniture, and other bodies landed around him, but they didn’t smash to pieces in the way he’d expect. The building seemed to be half a second behind them in falling, as soul-wrenching cracks and groans tore through the air—a sound like city-size icebergs colliding. But now the building, too, had begun to fall before the room’s contents impacted on the forty-foot-high ceiling.

  With the wind knocked out of him, Grady struggled for breath as he attempted to stand—which he found easy since he was in free fall. He staggered around in a daze amid floating furniture and objets d’art, his feet barely touching the ceiling, which now could just as easily have been a wall.

  He looked up to see a static view of Paris out the window, looking down the Champs-Élysées. It corresponded not at all with the free fall he was in, and his brain rebelled—and he began to feel nauseated.

  The sound of mountains colliding rumbled through the walls. The room lurched again, and a sharp crack ripped the air, setting his ears to ringing. His body suddenly forgot to vomit as he twisted around and saw Morrison and Alexa struggling with each other in free fall. Her gun floated yards away. Grady guessed it had fallen from her hand when she hit the ceiling.

  “Alexa!”

  She didn’t answer. She was busy trying to find some leverage to use her superior strength against Morrison as they grappled in midair. She finally pushed off a floating sofa and slugged Morrison twice in the face.

  But Morrison refused to let go.

  Grady had strayed from the ceiling somewhat, and he tried to swim through the air to get back to it—to use it as a launching pad. “I’m coming!”

  She shouted back at him. “Hedrick! Get Hedrick!”

  Grady scanned the cavernous office with his eyes. It was difficult to remember which way had originally been up—he was lost as he looked across a debris field of floating furniture, art, and other objects, broken and whole. But then he saw Hedrick’s massive desk, upside down, and Hedrick pulling himself hand over hand along the walls to get to a side door. The man was forty feet away.

  “Hedrick!”

  Hedrick didn’t look back. He just kept moving as a set of double doors opened automatically to admit him to a gallery beyond. Grady thought he remembered it—and then it occurred to him that Hedrick was heading toward his museum of “contained” technology.

  “Goddamnit . . .” Grady clawed at the floor or wall or whatever was next to him and pushed against floating objects to use their inertia to impart forward movement on him. He wracked his mind to calculate the best way to make progress.

  And there in his sight line Grady saw his gravis wrapped around the scout helmet and floating amid the other debris. It must have landed near him since he’d had it in his hands when he fell.

  Grady grabbed them both and started buckling the gravis on. As he did so, he passed below Morrison and Alexa. He could see Morrison had somehow gotten hold of a Victorian desk clock, and he was trying to bludgeon her with it.

  He shouted toward her. “I found my gravis! I’m coming—”

  “I already have one! Get Hedrick!”

  Grady powered it up and pulled his helmet on. He glanced back at the doors where Hedrick had already disappeared. He then looked back up at Alexa and made his decision—changing his direction of descent toward her and Morrison.

  But he went nowhere. He was still in free fall.

  She glared down at him from thirty feet above as she peeled Morrison’s fingers from her throat. “You’re in a more powerful mirror! That’s how Morrison stopped us before! Your gravis is useless inside it!” She slugged Morrison again.

  He shouted, “I don’t understand!”

  “You invented the damn thing, you tell me! Just go after Hedrick! There are places he can escape to! Don’t let him get away!” She grunted and did a backward somersault, wrapping her legs around Morrison’s head and squeezing until his face reddened.

  Morrison struggled mightily. “Aghh, you bitch!”

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Go, Jon!”

  Reluctantly, Grady continued pulling his way through the free-falling debris field and out the gallery doors. He couldn’t help but wonder at the interaction of the gravity fields—was it a matter of power? Was it like acoustics? Did they subtract each other? No . . . because equal fields didn’t seem to.

  He snapped out of pondering gravity and looked ahead. He could now see the long exhibit gallery—only everything was turned upside down, with exhibits floating in midair. He shaded his eyes against the blinding white light of the first fusion reactor, suspended in its sealed case.

  Up ahead he could see Hedrick clawing his way along the carpet.

  “Hedrick!”

  There was another huge rumble, followed by a colossal CRACK. A seam appeared in the wall nearby and quickly expanded, wood splitting. Suddenly the howl of wind started blowing through the corridor—although Grady was still surrounded by interior walls.

  He was nearly blown back out the gallery doors into the office again, but as he looked up, he could see that Hedrick had fallen back along the exhibit gallery as well. Grady finally got a good look at the man.

  Hedrick looked worried but also determined. In a moment the director fished through his pockets and came up with a small object, which he aimed back at Grady.

  “Shit . . .” Grady pushed off from the wall and sailed across the corridor just as an explosion blasted apart the burled wood paneling and sent him rolling end over end. He landed hard against something.

  He got his bearings, feeling the carpeting with his hands, and looked up through what was sud
denly a great deal more debris, smoke, and now fire to see Hedrick upside down thirty feet ahead, struggling with some sort of large piece of equipment.

  “Hedrick!”

  Hedrick aimed again, losing control of his rotation as he looked up. The shot went wide. Grady ducked down as another blast tore apart several display cases. Thousands more pieces of flaming debris entered the air around him, burning him as he batted them away. The flames were fanned by the howling wind.

  And then another sharp CRACK, like the earth itself coming apart, filled the air so loudly it momentarily drowned out the howling of the wind. The building groaned deafeningly.

  • • •

  Richard Cotton stared through a series of remote holographic exterior images of BTC headquarters. Beta-Tau had gotten him access to the surveillance dust littering surrounding buildings, and now before him was a three-dimensional hologram of downtown Detroit—with the jaw-dropping sight of BTC headquarters and a hundred meters of land in every direction around it tearing up out of the ground. Ten- and five-story buildings around BTC headquarters disintegrated as they fell upward—with the U.S. district court imploding on itself as concrete and soil from the ground beneath rushed through it.

  But BTC headquarters did not come apart. The forty-story black slab kept rising out of the ground, getting broader and more massive as the ground around it erupted—tearing up sidewalks and asphalt as floors and floors of dark nanorod curtain wall rose from the earth.

  The entire region rumbled.

  Cotton said to himself, “We’re recording this, right?”

  • • •

  Miles away people stepped out of their homes and onto their balconies and driveways to stare in horror and shock as a towering monolith rose from the Detroit skyline in the predawn. They swayed from the tremors as they raised smartphones and started filming the dark spike that was still growing above them. Taller than any building they’d ever seen, it kept rising—a hundred stories, a hundred and twenty, and still it rose, surrounded by a crown of debris that glittered as the dawn sun caught the shards of glass. Winds thousands of feet in the air blew the smoke and debris away from the dark tower like storm clouds on a mountain peak, and yet still the massive tower rose.