Activated, p.23
Activated, page 23
When I have 1.1 miles to go, I calculate my ETA—at normal walking speed on level ground without snow, it would take me roughly 15 minutes to arrive at my destination, but after factoring in the terrain and depth of the snow, combined with my heavy boots, the strong wind, and lower body energy, which is sapped by cold weather, I’m looking at around 30-35 minutes.
My drone bracelet is tucked under my jacket cuff. Pulling it out, I activate one drone to circle me as I walk, partly because I promised my dad I’d be safe, partly because I need to test how it operates in cold weather. It’s flying well so far.
The only road through this area is 320 feet to my right. I follow its path, staying in the tree line. Apart from an occasional rustle in the branches or a small animal scurrying away, it’s deathly silent in the woods. Thankfully, I’ve got everything I need to protect myself from the elements and wild animals. The suit has 45% battery left, giving me just enough time to get to the Infinity Dome, then to the shelter to charge my suit. For now, I’m warm and toasty.
Snowflakes land on my gloves reminding me of Noble’s fractals and the choice he has to make. And how he chose not to trust me with it. I instantly compare it to the dream I had just two hours ago—Kai never hid anything from me. Thoughts of the Continental Divide fill my head until I notice my drone isn’t stable.
Instead of circling me at an eight-foot diameter, it’s staggering up and down. Eddie was right about the effects of extreme cold. I call it back, and it attaches to my bracelet. I need to keep it warm for what’s ahead.
I recalculate the map in my head—0.5 miles north until I reach the Infinity Dome. Even now, the air has become thick with frequencies from antennas, telescopes, and surveillance technology of every kind. I chart a new path where I’m sure to avoid cameras and sensors.
Seven minutes later, the control tower of the Infinity Dome comes into view. The tower itself is unimpressive, just like Minttu described—it looks like any normal airport traffic control tower. It’s 210 feet tall, peeking out above the tree line. But what the tower is projecting in the air is unlike anything I’ve sensed before—it’s booming with electrical pulses. A dome of energy particles, sparking with electricity, encloses the property. If my calculations are correct, this electromagnetic force field can block solid matter—missiles, bullets, radiation. Aiya. My plan had better work.
I crouch and move closer to the boundary line, hiding as I move from tree to tree, alert and listening, gauging the sensors. Hopefully wild reindeer with a similar size and heat signature as humans have tripped them in the past and my movement will register as similar blips. Wind pushes against me harder.
Finally in place, I call Eddie. “I’m here.”
“How’s the suit?” he asks.
I glance down at my gauges. “Not great—32%,” I say. “It isn’t cooling down, but it’s not heating up either.” Now that he mentions it, my body temperature is lower. My feet and legs feel a bit stiff, too.
“Hmm. The low battery and weather are affecting it far more than I predicted,” he says, worried.
“No problem, body-temperature wise, I’m good. I’ll make it to the laavu.” If things go well. “Okay, ready.”
When I’m within 200 feet of the dome, the buildings that comprise Scale Tech’s campus appear. I squint. The lights from the tower, although dim, are too bright with my bio-lens. I sneak closer to the electric barrier. When I get within 100 feet of the tower, human frequencies whirl in the air. Six guards patrol the area. I pause mid-step—three of them are the same men who followed me in the tunnels under Helsinki. The air is permeated with bad intentions.
“Alright, Eddie, let’s go over the plan once more.”
“Okay. There is one weakness: the control tower. It operates like a power grid for the Dome. When detonated, the EMP in the Squirrel’s Chestnut will produce a pulse powerful enough to short-circuit their control tower’s grid, cutting off power to the Dome itself, which is protecting the labs. Take down the tower, take down the dome.” He pauses. “Just make sure you’re at least one hundred feet away from the dome when you launch the attack. We’re not certain how it will react to the explosion and EMP. There could be an aftershock wave.”
“Okay,” I say. “Where’s my target?”
“Program your drones to detonate the Squirrel’s Chestnut over this location.” Exact coordinates for an electrical panel connected to the Dome appear on K2.
“Got it.” Minttu says it’ll take 24 hours to reboot the Infinity Dome after it’s disabled—and since there’s no real way to disable it, damaging it will have to do.
I move closer. The massive amount of voltage is off the charts. I unzip the top of my jacket pulling out the cherry on top—the Squirrel’s Chestnut. I detach the bullet-shaped metal cylinder from my necklace and calculate the energy in four drones plus the chestnut. I only have one chance. There are so many variables at play, and too much is at stake. One mistake could cost not just me, but Noble, his father…the world.
“Eddie, what if the energy in the EMP isn’t enough to do damage?” I ask.
“It should be—if your drones all hit the panel at the exact same time. If not, we’re screwed.” He whistles. “Also, the EMP-bomb needs to be carried in at top speed. The blast won’t hurt humans, but the sound of the explosion may alert everyone in the entire North Pole. Power off everything beforehand, just in case. It may take a while to reboot your tech.”
“Okay.” I recalculate the trajectory for my drones once more. Every equation adds up—this will work. After I launch the attack, I need to make it to the shelter a half-mile away in less than 20 minutes. My suit is losing battery fast. I crouch into position behind a line of trees.
“Okay, Eddie, wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Jo.”
I power off my suit, and the bio-lens; and K2 is set to power off the second the drones detonate. My focus pulls tight.
Praying my drones have enough power in them, I program the details of the panel target into K2. Then I connect the Squirrel’s Chestnut to the four drones that will deliver it there. The blast will be like a strike of lightning and could send me flying backwards. But if I’m not within range, the plan won’t work because the drones’ power levels aren’t consistent at these temperatures. I move into an open space with a bank of snow nearby to be safe.
My drones now hover in the air, creeping between the treetops, silently awaiting my command. They’re buzzing with 12,000 volts of energy but flying three times slower than usual. The cold is slowing them down. The density of the air is too thick. Curse this snow. Eddie’s plan might not work. Unless I get closer, breaching my range of safety, the drones’ flight distance and accuracy may be too diminished to work.
I crawl 25 feet closer to the edge of the dome. I’m too visible, but there’s no one in sight. I send up a fifth drone, adding another 3000 volts of energy to help the drones reach the tower with a punch. Finally, K2 confirms they’re moving in sync. Out of 12, I have 7 drones left.
The drones are set to detonate on contact with the panel. My jaw locked tight I command K2: “Detonate.” I send them flying at full speed and run for cover.
The drones race like missiles into the night air, arrows catapulting at their target.
5 seconds. A countdown begins in my head.
K2 switches to drone visual—right on target.
3 seconds.
I’m counting down the blast, but my mind is elsewhere. How will the EMP affect Noble’s plan? Does he know I’m coming? I step back, boots crunching in the snow. A spike of energy pierces my senses. Dang it! I tripped a sensor. Frequencies spiral through the air a split second before an alarm sounds. But it’s too late to care.
1 second.
The frequency of energy zaps me before the sound. Then a blast like a bomb detonates. My ears ring like bells.
The Squirrel’s Chestnut works perfectly. The trees bend under a tsunami of energy, shaking their branches and dropping snow to the ground with a gust of power that rips me from my feet and sends me flying violently 15 feet through the air. I slam into the snowy bank and through a cluster of bushes with sharp leafless branches. I’m knocked to the ground, head spinning. The branches miss my eyes, and my suit material is tough enough to protect me, but my exposed cheeks and forehead are scraped and bleeding. My facemask is in shreds. The blood from my wounds freezes instantly on my face.
I rest my cheek against the snow, laughing breathlessly, slightly hysterical. I couldn’t care less about the blood. I did it! I took out the Infinity Dome—its palpable energy pulsing in the air is gone.
I lie on my back, assessing myself. For three seconds, everything is black. My ears are ringing and I’m slightly disoriented—I’m experiencing loss of balance, nausea, soreness, a 38% chance I have a concussion.
My head is still spinning. The trees dance above me. Even my numbers are scrambling to balance. Despite all that, I have to get moving. I’m cold.
Get up, Josephine.
I roll to my stomach and push up to my knees. My head is pounding. I push to my feet and start walking. Then running.
Sound waves travel all around me like a warning bell. The electrical walls have fallen, even the surveillance around me is down, but while the Dome can’t reboot for 24 hours, the simpler tech can. After two minutes, I power on K2, but it’s glitching. Same with my drones. When my bio-lens twitches back on, the right lens is missing. It must have been knocked out of my eye in the blast. And my suit is dead.
I still have a good body temp reading with time to spare, but it’s cooling down fast. My predictions look okay until they recalibrate with the roar of a two-stroke engine creeping through the trees. Snow mobiles. Six human frequencies charge in the direction of the sensor I tripped.
Well, I would’ve had plenty of time to make it to the laavu except now they know I’m here—and they’re coming in fast.
Chapter 49
I DASH BETWEEN the trees, numbers blazing a trail. Heading toward the laavu isn’t an option now. The next possibility is a mile away—if I escape my pursuers.
I command my drone BFG to activate around me, but nothing happens. I rip off my glove, tapping the drones. They’re freezing. Even though it’s insulated inside the cuffs of my thermal suit, my body temperature is not high enough to keep their metal warm. I shove them back under my sleeves, hoping they won’t freeze my wrist off. I wish I had those fingertip bombs right now. They’d be warm enough to use.
“K2,” I command again, “get my drones working.” I need protection fast.
“Drones are unable to activate at full power until the temperature rises 8-10 degrees for 4-6 minutes.” K2 spouts off instructions with an unconcerned tone. “Then, they’ll be operational.”
Four to six minutes? Not possible in this weather—not unless I shove them in my armpit, which is sort of hard to do while on the run. A vehicle, big and clunky, veers off close behind me now. Its speed, however, is only two miles per hour faster than mine. Must be a snowcat of some sort.
I run a zig-zag pattern, predicting the snowcat’s direction and dash the opposite way, but with headlights and tracks in the snow, they can see me darting through the forest. My only advantage is size. The snow cat is very large, and they have to maneuver around the trees.
Three men on snowmobiles round the corner plowing into the snowy glen, closing in around me. Their headlights are so bright that my eye with the bio-lens surges with light. The flash is so powerful that when I open my left eye again, there’s only a strobe of blackness and splotchy colors.
Great. Now I’m down to seeing out of only one eye, temporarily. I run faster, harder, but my toes are cold now too, like I’m running on needles.
I need a vantage point where my numbers can plan an attack. Depending on the men, I could still use K2’s tasers and my earrings if I can get them from my pocket in time.
The snow is coming down like puffs of cotton balls, scattering my dimensions. Am I going the wrong direction? I don’t have much time and I cannot let them catch me.
I set my course to run east toward the frozen lakes, away from Scale Tech Labs. My mind runs through twelve immediate possibilities. I take the one with the best odds— there’s a 56% chance they won’t drive on the frozen lakes, and on the map the forest was thicker in the east. I can run, then hide.
I race in between the trees. The snowmobiles move slower, carefully dodging branches. But they’re faster than me.
Violent frequencies buzz with intent as the whir of snowmobiles cuts through the forest. Palermo’s men close in around me. The same men I always sensed were coming for me—in Geneva, in Helsinki, in Namibia—close in around me.
I dodge behind a cluster of snow-filled trees. But it’s no use. I’m leaving footprints in the snow.
Three snowmobiles, followed by another vehicle, pull into the glen. Six pairs of feet trudge and plow after my tracks. I leap over piles of snow to set a course for the last half-mile to the frozen lakes, but the odds predict I’m not going to make it. Dread fills me.
“K2,” I pant, “are the drones working?”
No response. Then, two seconds later, a static-filled reply. “Neg-a-tive.” I prepare a taser, but it fizzles out. Palermo’s men stalk the forest, in a circle surrounding me.
I have 19 seconds, but my body moves into swift action. As a last-ditch effort, I lie flat behind some bushes and bury myself with snow, hoping the white suit will hide me, but it’s too late. A boot crunches beside my head, another at my feet. Any moment now.
Six flashlights create a ring of light around me. My drones don’t work. K2 is down. I take off my gloves reaching for my earrings, but they’re too deep inside my pockets and my fingers are too cold.
One of the men from the underground tunnels yanks me up by the arm and drags me over to another man. Snowflakes fall between them, and puffs of steam shoot from their mouths like dragon’s breath.
“The girl everyone talks about.” This guy shines a flashlight in my face and laughs. “No wonder the boss wanted you. Who would’ve thought a little girl could take out the Dome? Palermo won’t be pleased—but he’ll love that we finally caught you.”
With my right eye, I glare at them, calculating. My dad’s worst nightmare is happening. Once again, I’ve been taken.
Chapter 50
THE BACK OF the snowcat is uncomfortable, but it’s warm—which is exactly what I need according to the calculations forming a plan in my head.
The men, definitely Italian from their accents, secure my wrists with a nylon cord, pulling it tight. On instinct, rather than numbers, I scream. “Ow! You’re hurting me. My wrists are nearly frozen.” It’s loud and squeaky, a poor ruse to get them to loosen it. So I start shaking, playing it up as best I can. They frown and pull some slack on the cords. I hide a smile as they shove me onto the floor of the snowcat. The advantage of being a woman.
I land on a rubber floor mat, my hands behind my back. I lean against the rear door of the snowcat cab. Thankfully, they didn’t take any of my tech. Not that it matters…yet. Everything is malfunctioning because of the cold.
Three men sit with their eyes trained on me. The doors lock as we start moving through the snow in the wrong direction. They’re driving up a hill toward the lakes—away from the dome, away from the labs where I need to be in seven hours. I can’t let them take me too far in this direction. I need to stop Noble. I need to get there before my dad and Cesare.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, my tone implying helplessness.
“To a safe place until our boss can meet you when he flies in,” he says, his lip curling.
Palermo flies in after the main launch, Cesare reported, to ensure the blackout weapon succeeds. If I don’t get out of this snowcat, I’ll miss it all.
The map in my head is spread out, all the features popping up—lakes, cabins, laavus, another town thirty miles off. I scan the cab, factoring everything around me into the equations multiplying in my head, calculating a way free.
Three solutions come to me immediately, but the first one involves seriously hurting these men. King’s dark influence lurks in the back of my mind tempting me like a siren, but I can’t do it. Red wouldn’t approve.
The second plan involves seriously hurting myself, which won’t result in me arriving at the labs on time either. Which leaves me with the third plan: a fifty-fifty chance of success.
If I don’t execute it correctly, I could break my neck. But if I execute it well, I can escape. I’m sure of it. After that, my odds depend on the elements and how fast I can run. My suit won’t take me as far as I need to go. But it’s a risk I have to take.
First, I need to change K2’s operating language so I can communicate with K2 without these men understanding my commands. Odds are they don’t speak Chinese.
I glance out the window, speaking low.“88-gai yuyan—Hanyu.” K2 buzzes in confirmation that the operating language is changed.
“What did you say?” growls a man. His body language tells me he’s annoyed, but relaxed. He doesn’t see me as a real threat. Most men don’t.
“Nothing.” Next, I whisper another command to K2 in Chinese to bring up a blueprint of the snowcat’s engine and circuiting system.
“Smettila! Stop talking,” one of the men barks in a thick accent. “Or speak English or Italian.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I talk to myself when I get nervous.” Thankfully, I don’t need anything else except time. First, I wriggle my wrists to loosen the cords around them, thankful for the rubber floor mat below me. Then I pull my wrist to my hip and examine the blueprint of the engine on K2. After this, I check my drones. Still cold. Four more minutes to heat up.
“I’m not who you’re looking for,” I say, stalling.
“Sure,” they laugh. “Then why are you out in the middle of night blowing up Scale Tech’s security dome?”
