Curious Sols (The Sol Principle Book 1) Page 11

  Stopping again, his father leaned against a public vidcomm. “Your new home sounds like a great frontier, but it will take people of great constitution to survive there. Otherwise you may find yourselves caught in a battle between Sparta and old King George. I know you’ll see a way through, John. You have the heart of Hoss, the passion of Little Joe, the intelligence of Adam, and the wisdom of Ben.”

  Looking sideways, his father clearly caught a vision of something dreadful. He quickly faced his vidcomm again. “John, you grew up right. I'm so proud of you. Tell the girls I love them. Carry your grandfather's dream...”

  A flash of light filled the senator's vidcomm, followed by the words, “Transmission Terminated” scrolling across the screen.

  “What!” yelled John as he stood up and shook the vidcomm in frustration. Swiping its screen he paged Ensign Williams.

  “Commander, what can I do for you?” asked the ensign politely.

  “Did that transmission cut off,” demanded John without any pleasantries. “Do you have any more of that transmission?”

  “I'm sorry, Sir,” the ensign replied, acknowledging the sound of urgency in the commander's voice. “That was the entire signal. If there was a second message we haven't received it yet.”

  John turned away from the screen and regrouped. “Thank you, Ensign.” He swiped off the vidcomm.

  Moving to far corner of his office, John pulled a gym pack out of a wall locker. He opened it up quickly checking the contents of the pack.

  “Blasted one-way messages,” he scoffed.

  He needed a place to think it through. He needed to think of his next move. Neither of these things would be possible with the anger that was coursing through his veins.

  Slinging the pack over his shoulder he moved with purpose out of his office. There was only one good place for him to go right now, the fit room.

  Meanwhile on the bridge, Ensign Williams pondered his conversation with Commander Quinn for a few moments.

  “That was just plain odd,” he thought to himself.

  Being the primary communications officer on a ship, you are privy to more things than any one person should know. Although he would never gossip, that's not professional, and he would never meddle, that's just not his place--there was an exception clause for emergencies.

  Tapping a vidcomm screen, he sent a page to Lieutenant Kyle Jennings John's right hand man in the sentinels.

  *

  Chapter 15 Learning the Hard Way

  John pulled up the holographic controls on the fit room's workstation. Scanning his training programs, he stopped on one labeled The Octagon. He had designed it from a long forgotten martial arts movie. The subject was fitting given a line from his father's cryptic message.

  “Nothing like an old fashioned ninja showdown to clear the mind,” John joked to himself as he set the parameters for the holo-battle. The room physically began to shift and create multiple levels out of shock absorbing materials. Images of maze like corridors replaced reality. The walls created an octagonal shaped perimeter for the combatants.

  Before he could finish the settings, however, the doors to the fit room opened. Lieutenant Jennings walked in, followed a few seconds later by four more of his sentinels.

  John cracked a smile as he asked, “What's my band of merry men doing here?”

  “I stopped by your office and Ashley's lab, and this was likely the next place to find you,” replied Kyle.

  “And found me you have,” jested John. “Have you been sent by the Ninja Master?”

  Kyle looked at John curiously. “No, I don't think any ninja masters have sent us, but with all the distractions we're in need of practice.”

  Kyle continued spinning his convenient story, “We'll be landing soon, and we could stand a bit of a workout.”

  John rubbed his chin a bit as if he had a goatee to stroke. “I think you are lying to me,” he said in a poor Japanese accent.

  John tossed each of the men a holo-rifle as he continued, “I think you have been sent by Ninja Master Seikura to stop me from discovering my father's fate.”

  With the last rifle passed out, John adjusted the parameters of the program to include his semi-willing participants.

  “I know you have me outnumbered and outgunned," he added showing his empty hands, “but don't underestimate the Brain-fu of John 'Sidekicks' Quinn!”

  With that, he hit the activation countdown on the holo-simulator and jumped down several levels into the octagon. His jump was soon concealed by a wooden floor.

  The five men looked at each other for a moment. Though used to John's humor, even they were a bit confused. A red light began to flash through the room reflecting off the walls of the octagon. Their time to think was over.

  A computer voice counted down, “Program the Octagon. Starting in five, four, three, two, one.”

  The room was fully transformed. What was seconds ago metallic looking walls lined with cushioned pads was now a thick jungle. The sounds of birds, crickets, and a host of tropical sounds filled the area. The exterior of the octagon was still visible though it was covered with moss and thickly woven vines.

  Each man looked around, they chuckled a bit in turn seeing each other. Thanks to the holo-program they were dressed head to toe in black. Carrying what looked to be hand crossbows, they were now a band of five ninjas.

  “Well John, here's to hoping this is natural coping and not a sign that you've snapped,” Kyle remarked.

  Motioning to the opening in the octagon, Kyle addressed the men, “I think we can play the part of silent killers. The first man to tag John gets furlough when we land planet side. What do you say?”

  One by one, the men gave a silent cheer and then snuck into the octagon each taking a separate path.

  *

  John strapped his neuroband around his head as he crouched down behind an illusionary marble water fountain.

  “The Empire,” John's word were concealed by the trickling water. “Dad said that D.C. was going the way of the Empire. I know you were an intelligence officer in the Navy, but secret movie code. Really, Dad?”

  The area around the water fountain looked like an oriental garden. Small streams of water flowed under little wooden bridges. Exquisitely trimmed trees and bushes lined the walkways, many of them carved into the shapes of warriors.

  He chose this area carefully as he preferred to lure his enemies to him. Charging around blindly in unexplored territory was usually a recipe for dying.

  “The Empire were the bad guys in that Star Wars movie,” he thought to himself. “They were trying to take everything over if I remember right.”

  When you're seven-years-old things come back to you in clumps of images at best.

  “I remember that creepy guy with the hood shooting people with lightning bolts,” John said to himself as he recalled another image from the film.

  His thoughts shifted back to his father. “I know Dad was worried about some recent legislation trying to eliminate checks and balances, but people couldn't be that naive, could they?”

  Soon, John heard a crackle from the nearby hedges. Someone was impatiently moving about. He'd have to note that for a later training session.

  “Okay, it’s time to test how this will work in combat.” he thought to himself. He had worked so hard to transfer the program out of military control, yet he was about to take a page out of their handbook.

  He inched his way along the ground in the direction of the sound, trying his best to stay in cover. The light in the garden was soft moonlight at best. Straining his eyes he could make out what looked to be a shadow moving against the green foliage ahead.

  Concentrating on the shadow, he formed a picture in his mind of fire. The crackle of leaves as they burned, the smell of smoke, the searing heat given off, and the light from the reaction. Having a convincing picture his mind flung it at the shadow as if physically tossing an object.

  Although the hologram of the area did not change, something must have
worked in the shadow's mind as a man jumped out of the bushes yelling "fire" repeatedly. No longer a shadow, the struggling ninja dug his heals into the ground. With several urgent kicks, he pushed himself away from the brush.

  John easily maneuvered behind the man preoccupied with the imaginary fire. In one motion he wrapped his legs around the man, immobilizing him, as his arms thrust into a choke hold.

  “Say mercy me,” John whispered in a low voice as he broke his mental image of the fire.

  The man stopped trying to resist, though instead of mercy me he responded, “What the heck! Where'd the fire go?”

  “That's an ancient Chinese secret, my friend,” John replied. “I'll explain later but for now you're out.”

  John released the man and whispered. “Be a good dead ninja and stay here quietly. No helping the others. Hit the kill button on your crossbow.”

  The man nodded and moved a lever on the crossbow. The holo-program, receiving his kill switch activation, transformed his image into a new water fountain for the garden.

  “May the pigeons fly far from your waters,” joked John as he saluted the fountain and proceeded toward a nearby opening in the maze.

  Trying his best to move stealthily along, his mind slipped back to the message from his father. What had cut the transmission? Who was he trying to get away from? Where was his security detail?

  “Questions for later,” he thought to himself. “Think about the answers he gave instead.”

  Leaving the garden, John moved quietly along a dirt path until it reached a ladder. He slowly climbed up the ladder to avoid any creaks. Reaching the top, he found himself in a change of scenery. The walkway transformed into a stone floor its path winding through a damp cave. He felt a bit of a chill as a stream of cool air passed through the cavern.

  “It was four hundred degrees though in D.C.,” John thought again of his father's riddle. “The heat in D.C. may have gone up with global warming, but not that much. The book Fahrenheit 451 could be what he was alluding to. We used to argue over themes of censure or factoids. Well if something like the Empire is taking over it could be both ideas in play. That might explain why my MARC sources have fallen short with explanations lately.”

  The cave opened up to what appeared to be a much larger cavern. In reality, the one hundred foot ceilings were likely twenty feet at best, but thanks to the holograms, they were convincing.

  Another aspect that was very convincing was the large chasm that cut off one side of the cavern from another. Some of his sense of humor must have rubbed off on the computer program's terrain generation. Stretching across the chasm was a single brown twine of rope, tied off at both ends around a large stalagmite.

  “A rope bridge,” he muttered to himself.

  John raised his hands to the ceiling as if talking to the holo-program itself. “Why does it have to be a rope bridge? You know I'm not really a ninja, right?”

  “Okay,” John tried to bolster himself. “This isn't really a giant chasm of doom where you can fall to your death. It's maybe twenty, thirty feet down. Worst case you sprain an ankle, no sweat. It's not even a rope; probably some type of cable.”

  Steadying himself by placing his hand on a stalagmite, John put a foot on the rope and stepped up. He tried taking his hand away from the pillar for a second and nearly fell.

  “Just don't look down, right?” he assured himself.

  Taking his hand away again, he managed to keep his balance. Slowly he placed one foot in front of the other. By some sort of miracle, John managed to slink eight or nine feet across the chasm. That is of course until another man, dressed from head to toe in a black ninja outfit, approached from the other side.

  “Looks like I'm going to be the first person to enjoy a Martian beach,” chuckled the man as he drew his crossbow.

  The sight broke John's concentration causing him to lose his footing and fall. Although his balance had failed, his quick reactions curled his legs around the rope. Though he had temporarily escaped a plunge of doom, John hung precariously upside down.

  “Sir, let me help you down from there,” offered the ninja as he raised his crossbow and aimed it at John.

  Almost forgetting his ace card due to his peculiar position, John stalled for time.

  “Don't move!” John yelled as he continued to clasp onto the rope. “That's the biggest hairy spider I've seen in my life!”

  The man dipped down quickly turning and looking around. It gave John enough time to conjure an image. The ninja's crossbow went slowly down and fell from his hands as he backed up.

  “Oh my god!” the man shouted while backing up, not noticing he was about to run out of solid ground.

  “Watch out for that...” John tried half-heartily to warn him before falling backward down the chasm. A thud was heard not a second later.

  “Oh that's going to hurt,” John said down the chasm. “Sorry, I didn't think that one through. In my defense, I was upside down.”

  Still drooping from the rope, John grabbed the line. With substantial effort, he successfully shimmied his way across the chasm. With a grunt and a groan he climbed his way to solid ground.

  Pulling his Ksync from his belt, which had been changed to look like an old pouch, he checked on the status of his fellow sentinel. The display showed the readout of all team members as healthy. Looking over the chasm he saluted, then headed down the lighted passage ahead.

  “I don't suspect any ninjas will be hiding in here,” John commented to himself.

  The circular room was well lit and constructed from polished marble. An oval stone table filled most of the room. It was surrounded by several high backed chairs. Hanging on the walls around the room were a variety of archaic weapons. He instantly recognized several ninja swords hanging from their sheaths. The other weapons were out of character for the Octagon.

  “Spiked knuckles, chainsaw, sawed-off shotgun, electro rifle,” he noted as he looked around the room. John’s eyes came to rest his on one weapon in particular. “That's one big son-of-a-gun. I think the computer got vidgames in my Octagon, or Octagon in my vidgames.”

  John directed his attention back to the center of the room.

  “This seems like a strange meeting area,” John remarked. “If this was obsidian all around instead of marble and I had recently dropped into a volcano it could work as Spectre headquarters. We just need a white cat."

  John ran his hand along the table as he followed its oval shape around the room.

  “Dominic and Spectre are match made in heaven,” he continued decoding the clues. “Bent on world domination is likely tattooed on his right arm, with a heart shaped I love mom design on the left.”

  Nearing the mid-section of the table John saw a phrase etched into the stone A grands maux, grands remèdes. Leaning over to examine the writing, he felt a slight puff of air as a crossbow bolt whizzed past his right ear and splintered against the wall behind him.

  Not waiting to see where it came from, he dropped down behind the stone table.

  John considered the possibilities. He couldn't use his neuroband because he couldn't see his target. Moreover, the assailant was smart enough to keep quiet and not give away his position. The weapons hanging nearby would even the odds if he wasn't clipped trying to reach them.

  John cupped his hands and yelled, “Ally ally oxen free!” He paused, listened, and shrugged his shoulders. “Not falling for that one eh?”

  “There's no way I'm making it to that wall,” he thought to himself. “I need to sneak a peek.”

  Crawling a few feet over from where he'd yelled, John took off his jacket and held it in his left hand. Raising the jacket above the table, he quickly poked his head up to get a look. Another bolt shot across the room, piercing his jacket, and leaving a round hole. John dropped back behind the table. The peak was long enough to spot his attacker hiding behind a wine barrel in the adjacent hall.

  "That was my favorite jacket!" John shouted. He managed to get a muffled laugh from the commen
t.

  “Gotcha,” he whispered quietly as he locked on to the man with his thoughts. John conjured images in his mind of an old-fashioned grenade, green in color, something that would make a very loud boom and a forceful blast. Then he looked at the ground by the man and shouted, “Grenade!” as he made a throwing motion.

  The ninja darted for cover, landing on the other side of the table from John. He didn't waste the opportunity springing to the wall and grasping the shotgun. Rounding the table he bore the weapon on the ninja who was still kneeling with his hands over his ears.

  “That was pretty impressive Ensign...Clark is it?” John asked as he continued to keep the barrel pointed at the man in black.

  “Nice one, Commander,” the ensign replied. “I thought you were unarmed, guess I should have paid more attention to those guns on the wall.”

  “Always know your surroundings, Mister,” John replied. “I'm not exactly unarmed either to be honest. Kill switch on the crossbow if you please.”

  Pressing the button on the holo-rifle, Ensign Clark was transformed by the program into a large marble statue.

  Tossing his shotgun to the floor, John saluted the statue and proceeded down the uncharted passageway.

  His thoughts drifted again to his father's cryptic message.

  “Being healthy, Spartans, and King George,” he recalled while shaking his head. “I need a decoder ring for that part.”

  The passage opened up into a courtyard of sorts. What looked to be an area fifty meters across was likely half that, a common illusion of the holo-programs.

  Several suits of ō-yoroi were filled with straw and fashioned as targets throughout the grounds. John pretended not to notice two hidden figures crouched behind suits of armor. He feigned a careless walk through the yard, then unexpectedly took cover behind one of the straw targets.

  “Give up you while you can, gentleman!” John commanded. “I have you outsmarted one to two!”

  A voice sounding much like Lieutenant Jennings replied from an unexpected location of the grounds. “You mean we have you outnumbered three to one John. It's not like you to miscalculate, do you need an old-fashioned pair of glasses by chance? Maybe you brought those antique binoculars with you?”