Sons of Abraham: Pawns of Terror (8 page)

The nostalgic feel of the wooden structures was short lived as the buildings on the parallel street were towering monstrosities that left the Old West in its shadow. The tall buildings were surfaced in glass, rather transitional plastic, with only small bits of the building’s structure visible from the outside. To Abraham, they reminded him of the Divinity Corporation building where he’d liberating Cybill. His inability to repair her damaged processor flooding his mind, making him wish to look for a computer supply store rather than a public place to steal a data pad.

“You look a little lost,” a woman’s voice called out from behind him.

Abraham turned around to face the question. The woman was short, her hair hidden beneath a woven hat, red in color. Her dress matched in color, but she wore a pair of slacks beneath the dress, with small loafers peeking out.

“I’m sorry, this is my first time in Bullsrun,” Abraham replied. “I’m afraid I am a little lost.”

The woman smiled, displaying a perfect row of white teeth that were far too large for her mouth. Tiny wrinkles formed in the corners of her eyes and forehead, indicating her youthful days was falling behind her. The brim of her red hat swayed in the gentle breeze as the smile slowly faded from her face.

“Well, what exactly are you looking for?” she asked in an accent Abraham had never heard.

“My Captain sent me for supplies, but I wouldn’t mind an outdoor lunch,” he replied.

“Well, you got a few places to choose from. What ya like?”

“Oh, I like to try something new. However, are there are places that tend to be crowded? I like to people watch.”

The woman smiled again.

“I know just the place,” she replied happily. “Keep going down this street, then turn left at the last wood structure. Then you go two more blocks and you’ll see a bunch of tables with white umbrellas over the tables. Should be what you’re looking for.”

Abraham thanked her and followed her directions. In the back of his mind, he continued to work on placing the accent the woman spoke. Despite the Old West appearance, the woman hadn’t used any southern drawl he’d ever witnessed. The vowels were flat, with the constants well articulated. It seemed that new dialects had sprouted since his days on Earth.

The many eyes that roamed the streets glanced long and hard in the Cyber’s direction, obvious recognition of the black discs over his eyes. He focused his gaze forward, not wishing to engage anyone in conversation over his strange appearance. He caught a glimpse of each storefront as he passed, making notes over what each of them had to offer. He passed another saloon, a bank, and what was labeled as a general store before he reached the end of the wooden structures. As he’d been informed, he took a left turn, greeted with a long line of modern buildings, all the same, glass fronts as the taller structures of the next street.

The restaurants seemed to all be on the same street as he passed several places of different ethnic offerings. The familiar smell of Chinese food filled his nose, reminding him of the late nights he’d stayed up working all night on various projects. His stomach growled, begging him to forget the data pad and place an order for Mongolian Beef. The thought was followed with saliva, reminding him of his animalistic nature buried beneath his human attributes and circuitry. Given the bans that had put in place on Earth, he was surprised to find that any cuisine that was high in sodium was still available.

After passing over the necessary two blocks, he reached the aptly named White Umbrella. The restaurant had a logo of a simple umbrella on its sign, white in color with a dark blue background. The building had a metal awning, stretching out over several tables before giving away to the dozens of tables under white umbrellas. Glass doors slid around the interior walls, obviously opened due to the pleasant weather Taurus was enjoying today. Abraham stepped between the two black poles, taking a seat up against the building.

A brief moment passed before an elderly man walked out to him, wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt, buttoned to his neck. He wore black pants and a white apron around his waist, his gray hair pulled back in a ponytail. The man had thin legs, but a stocky torso, and walked with a faint limp. Abraham scanned his legs, showing no sign of artificial limbs. His eyes required more power than his processor could muster in order to see if the man had damage to his ligaments, but he made a note to ask him if the situation called for it.

“What can I get for ya?” the man asked, standing up next to the table.

Abraham thought back, certain that he hadn’t seen the menu posted anywhere on the building. He looked around, noting that others were pointing at their data pads while talking to their waiter or waitress. Abraham saw the golden opportunity.

“I’m sorry,” he started. “I seem to have left my data pad on the ship. Could you loan me one, please?”

“Well of course,” the man replied, reaching into his apron and pulling out a data pad.

The pad was worn, looking to be an older model than the ones the crew of the Hopper used. Despite its wear, the device seemed sufficient for his needs. He played out the steps in his head, not wishing for the man to be standing over his shoulder should his picture come up on the screen.

“I’ll have the daily special, with whatever you recommend drinking,” he started. “And I hate to be a bother, but our view screen burned out on our ship. I’d like to check the going prices before I walk into one of your stores and buy one. I’d hate to be taken.”

The man nodded.

“Sure,” he replied. “Just leave it on the table when you’re done. If the feed locks up on ya, just turn it off and back on. We updated it earlier this year, but it didn’t take too well to the new programming.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind,” Abraham replied.

The longhaired man disappeared as Abraham went to work. He knew he was supposed to bring a stolen pad out to the Hopper to prove he was safe to travel with, but he couldn’t pass at the opportunity that presented itself. The pad was registered to a public place. Sadly, his face was easy to recall, thanks to the eye covers, but he suspected he could buy the man’s silence with a generous tip.

To the Cyber’s surprise, the courtroom attack was not considered galaxy news. He had to bring up the feeds from Earth before he was able to access the listing of the wanted Cybers. He scrolled through the list of pictures and names, filing each away in his memory bank. He tried not to smile as he reached the end of the list and his name and picture never surfaced.

“Oh, you looking at the attack on Earth?” the man with the ponytail asked upon returning. “I read about that earlier today, horrible incident. Just horrible. All those innocent people. The first smart thing the government did, kicking them Cybers outta the outskirts.”

The man placed a glass on the table before Abraham, using a metal pitcher to pour out his drink. Abraham tried not to look as though he was focusing on the story, rather that he just happened upon it.

“Lemon/orange tea,” the man stated proudly. “Fine drink for a warm day like this.”

Abraham hadn’t paid much attention to the weather, but the glass was already dripping from condensation from the moment the iced fluid settled into his glass. The Cyber checked his internal controls, realizing that he’d over adjusted his internal temperature. The temperature report for the area stated ninety-one degrees, but he’d dropped his body temperature to eighty-nine. Had he not caught it, he would have developed difficulty circulating blood. He made a note to run a diagnostic when he returned to the Hopper. However, the information the man offered could prove valuable.

“I’m sorry,” he started. “What were you saying about kicking the Cybers off the planet?”

The man sat the metal pitcher on the table and looked around to see if anyone was listening. He waited for a moment, smiling to a woman who was leaving from three tables away. The man offered her a polite nod, then turned back to Abraham as soon as the woman was out of earshot.

“Used to be an outpost up north,” the man replied. “We were having so many disputes over cattle prices that the MA’s set up a permanent base. Lawmen set out this morning and cleared them out after what came across the news. Didn’t get any of them, but they got on their ship and left the planet in a damn hurry.”

“I see,” Abraham replied before taking a sip from the drink.

The mixture of lemon and orange was strange at first, but rather soothing after it sat on his tongue for a second. There was no sugar in the tea, just the natural sweetening from the freshly squeezed fruits lining the edge of the drink. He took another long sip before setting the glass back on the table.

“Here’s this back,” he continued, handing the pad back to the waiter. “Thank you very much.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“More or less.”

***********

Jones watched the small group of people as they entered the room. He’d arrived at the Divinity Corporation outpost several hours ago but found himself waiting in the meeting room for the entire time. He didn’t care much for the typical Divinity Corp buildings with their similar structures and adaptive plastic exteriors. Like other facilities, this one hadn’t been used for a number of years. That all changed when he was informed that the security doors had been accessed by an authorized member.

He made use of his time while he waited. He’d gathered all of the data he could find about the code that the front door and elevator had scanned. The findings brought about a mixture of emotions as he looked at the profile of Thomas Abrams. The man simply knew now as Abraham had gone missing hundreds of years ago, leaving all to suspect that he’d passed.

Charles Lache had been the first to enter the meeting room. The CEO of Divinity Corporation was an elderly man, bald and thin. The facial features were gruesome, the skin stretched far too tightly across his protruding bones. His brown eyes were almost black and far too large for his narrow face. His lips were shriveled, giving the appearance that he was blowing a kiss at all times.

Lache was followed closely by Hannah Beam, a younger woman who served as his assistant for the last five years. Jones watched her small curves move under the white skirt and jacket, leaving to wonder what truly lied beneath. Her silver hair was swept forward, the tips nearly stabbing her pale blue eyes with every gust of wind. Her skin was pale and smooth, with rippling muscles in her jawline and calves. She wore glasses made from the same materials as the windows that could change in color and translucence per the user’s request. Today, the glasses were white, matching her jacket. She pressed her finger to the indicator behind her ear, causing an assortment of color blocks to appear inside the lenses. The focused on one block, pressing the button once more. The color left the glasses, making it difficult to tell that she wore them at all.

The muscles in Jones’ body tightened as the third member joined the party. The man was simply known as Jaeger. Occasionally, he acted as a bodyguard for Lache, accompanying him as he traveled from one planet to the next. Generally, Lache used other guards from Divinity, but this type of meeting wasn’t for those without the highest of security clearance. Jaeger was the top of the list for black op missions, making him the only choice for today’s meeting.

Jones never understood how Jaeger managed to hide in a crowd, given his appearance. His hair was black, slicked backward over his skull, the sides shaved down to the skin. His skin was tanned, with gnarled muscles in the jaw and neck. He was slightly shorter than Jones, making him about six foot two. His clothing was plastic printed, finely woven meshing that layered over itself dozens of times and a mixture of grays. He didn’t bother hiding the fact that he was a Cyber, his eyes reflecting everything he looked at. Jones assumed the man was always scanning, looking for any signs of trouble that the human eye couldn’t see.

“Report on the extradite,” Lache said, his voice high but raspy from age.

“They managed to send out a distress call before the power was shut down,” Jones started. “However, we were able to cut it off at the Gabriel Ring and prevent it from reaching Earth. The last report was that the cargo was loaded with minimal resistance on the part of security.”

“Pathetic,” Lache snapped, sitting down at the black chair at the head of the table. “I always said that our security was lacking. This merely proves my point.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any casualties?”

“Three so far. It seems that Sargent Bearden was able to make a stand as the last of the cargo was being loaded. They are closing in on his location, as we speak.”

“The Bear. That’s what they call him. I had the Major sent on off planet to ensure their failure. Looks like I sent the wrong man. I met Bearden, big man, tough as nails. I should have known he would be a cause for concern. Are the scientist on the ships?”

“Yes, sir. Dr. Ilda Green and her team have been placed on a harrier, heading away to the new facility. They should touch down in the next ten hours, as scheduled.”

“Good, good. Make certain that there are no survivors, though, I don’t want anyone getting a distress call out once we’ve cleared our presence from the ring.”

“Of course sir. What have we learned from the meeting with the President?”

“He wouldn’t meet with me. My sources, however, inform me that his advisors have already made several conclusions about whom was behind the attack on the courtroom. The mentioning of the Cyber’s technology was made. I believe he will begin to realize that this is not a Cyber rebellion, but someone pulling their strings. We will need to take preventative measures to ensure that we gain the assets before his reaches the right conclusion.”