New Arcadia

New Arcadia AN ALICIA YODER NOVEL M.A. ROTHMAN STEVE DIAMOND Copyright © 2023 Michael A. Rothman & Steve Diamond Cover Art by M.S. Corley This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. Also By M.A. Rothman & Steve Diamond Alicia Yoder Series: • New Arcadia • Operation Thrall • Vatican Files Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Author’s Note Preview of Operation Thrall Preview of Multiverse Addendum Chapter One The mist hung low in the forest, and the agent’s footsteps squished through the damp ground, kicking up the aroma of peat moss—an earthy, dark, rich scent reminiscent of wet wool, with a hint of rot. In the distance, he caught sight of a barbed wire fence, the first sign of the high-security camp that wasn’t supposed to be there. Crouching low, the agent continued advancing toward the camp, but froze suddenly upon hearing a crunching and snapping sound underfoot. Dread consumed him when he recognized the sound of children’s bones breaking. The brittle remnants marked another shallow grave just outside the camp codenamed New Arcadia. Despite the horror of the situation, the agent took another step forward. He didn’t hear the sniper round traveling at twice the speed of sound before it slammed into him. The world turned black. * * * In a sound-isolated room fifty feet below Fort Meade, Doug Mason watched as two of his specialists worked on a patient lying on a hospital gurney. One was a neuroscientist monitoring a flatscreen that had a bundle of wires attached to the patient’s scalp. The other, a tiny bespectacled man who had been a practicing anesthesiologist before Mason recruited him into the Outfit. A clandestine government agency that didn’t officially exist, the Outfit and its members were an exclusive bunch, hand-picked for their special skills. These two both came from the private sector, and now served a higher calling… one that involved any number of unusual tasks, in all of which national security was at stake. Today was no exception. Mason shifted his gaze to the head of the gurney. “Jerry, he’ll be able to respond to questions, right?” “Oh, most definitely.” The neuroscientist pointed to the monitor, which displayed a variety of squiggly patterns. “We’ve got a classic EEG signature of unconsciousness at the moment. Mohan’s going to chemically immobilize Agent Xiang, and the sedative he’s on should give up the ghost. Then he’ll wake.” “It’s got to be strange waking up and not even being able to blink,” Mason said. He’d never witnessed a programming session before, mostly because it had only been done a handful of times, all when he wasn’t on the premises. “It’s best that he can’t move for a variety of reasons, but the most important have to do with the auditory and visual programming sequences.” The neuroscientist adjusted a setting on what looked like a virtual reality headset the patient was wearing. “When we first began experimenting with neuro-programming, the subjects couldn’t handle it. The results were miserable.” “What do you mean, couldn’t handle it? Was it painful?” The gray-haired man shrugged. “Hard to say. Before we started inducing paralysis in the subjects, they had an autonomic reaction to the process, flailed uncontrollably, and even when we strapped them to the hospital bed we couldn’t get a complete lock on the programming. This is very fidgety, cutting-edge stuff. And the subjects usually don’t even realize what’s going on during the programming.” The anesthesiologist cut in, his Indian accent thick, yet intelligible. “Let’s get things rolling.” He cleaned the injection port on the IV with an alcohol swab, then injected a clear liquid into it. “This is Quelicin,” he explained to Mason. “The good stuff. He’ll be completely immobile. I’ll attach an infusion pump to the IV so that he gets a constant four milligrams per minute throughout the procedure.” Mason watched the men work together smoothly as a team. Jerry Caldwell, was a neuroscientist, and Mohan Patel, an anesthesiologist. The two men already had a shorthand between them, and an easy, unspoken calm relationship. He didn’t share their calm, feeling uneasy about this whole thing. He understood the necessity of the procedure—the news out of China looked grimmer by the day, and the Outfit needed Agent Xiang for a very special mission—but that did nothing to calm his nerves. “I pushed a counter to the sedative,” Caldwell said. “He should be awake now.” He broke a capsule under the man’s nose, and the smell of ammonia permeated the air. “Did he respond?” “Yup. He’s awake, Mohan,” Caldwell said, eyes glued to the monitor. Patel spoke, keeping his voice clear, and his speech measured. “Agent Xiang, this is Doctor Patel. Can you hear me?” Mason couldn’t make heads or tails of what was on the monitor, but it clearly meant something to the neuroscientist, who said: “He hears you.” “Agent Xiang, we’re about to start the session. Just relax. You won’t remember any of this when this is all over.” Caldwell pulled up a new screen on the monitor, this one flashing a series of patterns. “Sending a baseline set of signals…” A buzzing noise leaked from the agent’s headset. A 3D representation of the brain appeared on screen, rotating, with portions of it highlighted. “Do those highlights indicate where you’re setting the memories?” Mason asked. “Yes.” Caldwell tapped on one of the highlighted areas of the screen. “This will be programming run one of three.” “Why do you have to do it three times?” “We’ve found that repetition helps the memories stick. And it’s not just pure repetition. On the third