We played a kind of warped game of tag for almost a minute before our pursuers did the obvious thing. A number of splashes indicated that Quinlans were going into the water to take me down to take me down.
“You set?”
“Set,” Hugh replied.
“Go.”
Abandoning my prior strategy, I undertook a straight-line retreat, making for the nearest shoreline as fast as I could manage. With the case balanced on my stomach, I was at a disadvantage. On the other hand, I was normally able to swim twice as fast as a biological Quinlan. It was close, but I made it to shore with a lead measured in seconds. The boats had to heave to rather than run aground, but I could hear individual Quinlans hopping onto land just behind me. Now it was a foot race, and I was forced to run upright while my pursuers could go down on all fours. But again, it was biological versus machine. It would come down to who overheated first. Here though, I had another advantage: night vision.
It was still dark, and although they might be able to track me from the air, they certainly couldn't pursue me at full speed. In two minutes, I was into the trees. I was well ahead of my pursuers and there was no way they'd find me in the dark. At least not without help. And that help would now have to come into the trees to find me. I cast around hurriedly for a rock, but in this artificial environment, random loose rocks would be few and far between. Nothing else presented itself. A piece of wood wouldn't do unless it was in the form of the spear. Then I had an idea. I quickly spit up an iron piece. About the size of a silver dollar, but twice as heavy, it would make an excellent missile in the right…
Movement above. A shadow resolved itself into a bird about the size of a crow. It had landed on a branch, and was moving through the tree trying to get farther into the cops without flying blind. I measured the distance, cocked an arm, and let fly. Computer senses combined with machinery capable of supplying a force with milligram precision put the iron piece right through the chest of the spy device. The bird went over backward without a squawk and landed with a thump. I spared a moment to verify what I already knew it: it had spilled gears and electronics, rather than blood and guts.
I had to move fast if they had another spy drone in reserve, it would try to take up the search from the last known position which was… here. I picked up the case and ran farther into the forest.
“How’s it going, Hugh?”
“Good. I'm attached to the underside of one of the catamaran hulls, above the waterline. Bender seems okay. At least, the flea in the backpack hasn't reported any moisture. No one has come looking, so either they didn't realize there were two of us, or they only care about the one with the case. I'm hoping it's the former.”
“You stay put until you can get off without being spotted. Then I’ll meet up. Meanwhile, I need to figure out how to ditch this case without them finding it. As long as they’re looking for a Quinlan with a transport case, they won't be looking for a Quinlan with a big cubicle backpack, or a Quinlan with no backpack.
“My backpack is in the box,” Hugh said. “I left it there when I grabbed yours, and now you have all my money.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
I opened the box and sure enough there was a backpack in it. Compared to the weight of a matrix, that had been negligible. I donned the pack, then closed the case and inspected the area. Some fallen trees could be the beginning of a windfall. Not enough to hide a box, but may be enough to disguise some digging. I quickly pawed open a hole in the ground. Fortunately, I didn't hit shell material before the whole was deep enough, and dropped the case in. I shoved some of the dirt pile over the case and the hole was filled in. I took a few minutes to spread the extra soil around and scatter leaves and moss on the spot. It wasn't perfect, but I need perfect. I just needed good enough. Until they found the box, my pursuers would assume they were looking for a Quinlan carrying a packing crate that contained the magical cube that the Administrator and the Resistance wanted so badly. Once they discovered the empty container, they'd be back to looking for a Quinlan with a bulky backpack, which would put Hugh back in their sites.
For the moment though, I was just another random traveler. I modified my appearance almost out of habit, then set off westward, the opposite direction to what they'd be expecting. Two hours later with the dawn breaking, I was back in the water and driving flat-out to the east.
“How are you holding up Hugh?”
“Okay. No one seems to have thought to look under the boat. I don't think they're really looking for a second fugitive. And the boats are sailing downstream, so I'll stick with them until they change their headings.”
“Yeah, I figure they're concentrating their efforts on tracking me. Meanwhile, I'm coming up behind you. Are all the boat still together? And can you get a fix on the sun? Your current sun angle will tell me where you are.”
“Sorry Bob, I don't think I can leave my spot without exposing myself. Keep looking for the boats, and otherwise just head downstream. Right now, I'm going where we want to go anyway.”
I sighed and signed off. The probability that Hugh’s ride would conveniently keep going east into the Garrick's Spine segment
