Jeff swallowed. ‘We could get ourselves new contacts.’
Dan shook his head, ‘Purchasing them legally leaves us right back where we started. No, we need black-market contacts preloaded with fake UPs, the whole works.’
‘I have no idea where to get hold of something like that.’
‘I do, though,’ Dan replied, picking up his rucksack and dropping it on a table standing near the couch. He dug out a slim black rod and then a smaller, metal oblong the size and shape of a credit chip, dumping them next to each other on the table.
He picked up the black rod. ‘I used this to fry every locator node in my hire car and clothing. You’ll need to swipe it down over all your own clothes, as well.’ He put the rod down and picked up the metal oblong. ‘This is what car-jacking crews use to override a vehicle’s locking system.’
‘Where did you get hold of this stuff?’
‘I didn’t,’ Dan said simply. ‘I built it myself. There’s hardly an electronic lock or locator in the world that can stand up to even crude hacks like this one.’
Jeff glanced towards the door. ‘So your car . . . ?’
‘Is stolen,’ Dan confirmed. ‘I also made some enquiries on the way here and found out about a guy in Missoula who can get us untraceable UPs. Nobody will know who we are.’
‘Why not just use unregistered UPs? They’re good enough in an emergency.’
‘But they won’t help us get through Array security, will they? We need complete false identities for that.’
‘Okay.’ Jeff nodded. ‘Do you want me to come to Missoula with you?’
Dan squinted at him. ‘Do people around here know you?’
‘Some of them, yes.’
‘Did you go into town on your way here?’
‘Nope.’
Dan thought for a moment. ‘I need to head down to Lakeside just now, and try and find another car. I can ditch the one I brought while I’m at it, but I think it’s best I do that on my own.’
‘Why?’
‘Nobody there knows who I am, whereas you need to stay out of sight in case someone’s been making enquiries about you. It shouldn’t take me more than a half day, at the most, to track this guy down. If it takes longer, I can sleep in the back of the car and be back here by tomorrow morning. What supplies do you have?’
‘You mean like food, that kind of thing?’ Jeff glanced at the beer bottles piled on the table. ‘That was pretty much it. I meant to pick more supplies up today.’
Dan sighed. ‘Okay, if I’ve got enough time, I’ll grab us something for the trip, but I’d rather not use any rest stops on the way if I can avoid it. You get yourself ready and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Sound like a plan?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Jeff agreed. ‘Assuming I still believe we even had this conversation after I have some more coffee.’
Dan nodded towards the wand-like device. ‘Remember to use that on all your clothes as well as your car,’ he advised. ‘Just hold down the button, swipe it over your stuff, and the readout’ll warn you if you missed anything.’
‘And the car-jacker?’
‘Just press it against any car’s ID panel, and you’ll be in after a couple of seconds.’
‘That’s it?’
Dan grinned. ‘I know. Scandalous, isn’t it?’
He walked over to the door, hesitating as he put his hand on the handle. ‘We’re not to blame for all of this, Jeff. We even warned the ones who are. I really don’t know how much more we could have done.’
‘I wish I could feel that sure.’
Dan pulled the door open, letting in a blast of freezing mountain air. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Okay.’ Jeff pulled his crumpled bathrobe closer around him. ‘If anything happens, should I call you?’
‘If anything happens, it’ll probably be too late.’
‘Right.’ Jeff felt far from reassured. ‘Okay. I’ll be waiting for you.’
EIGHT
Secure Military Facility (location unknown), 28 January 2235
Mitchell Stone awoke to pale-green light filtering through a barred window, high up, the shadows of branches flickering against the wall opposite. He stared up at a ceiling painted yellow, faint lines scarring the plaster, before smoothing both hands across his face and close- cropped scalp. The air smelled of detergent.
The memories slowly trickled back. He remembered being revived in a lunar cryogenics facility, then being transported to a ship carrying a wormhole gate that led back to a time when grey ashen clouds hadn’t yet swept the world clean.
He tested his fingers, wiggling them slightly before raising one arm and bringing it close to his face. He studied the delicate whorls of his fingertips as if he had never seen them before, more memories slowly dripping back into his conscious mind like sticky molasses. With every day that passed, they came back to him a little more quickly – an inevitable side effect, Albright had assured him, of the cryogenics revival process.
Mitchell sat up on the thin mattress, clad only in disposable medical blues, and swung his arm from side to
