Mecrats

by C J Klinger

  Cathy’s problem with the unexpected results stemmed from her special knowledge of the Mecrats that George and the other scientists and engineers did not share. She was the scientists responsible for nurturing the Mecrats’ brain before, during and immediately after their transfer from a human body to the mechanical construct that would become their new body for the rest of their lives. Typically, the transfers had taken a week to complete. During that time, Cathy was fully exposed to their subconscious thoughts, because the monitoring equipment she had to use was directly attached to the patient’s cerebral cortex. It was the only way she could keep track of the patient’s wellbeing and as a result she experienced firsthand what the minds of her patients were dreaming or thinking.

  Cathy blushed slightly at the memory of her last patient, Sargent Rucker. His thoughts had been blatantly sexual, but unexpectedly sweet and gentle, Whenever she connected herself to him, Cathy had found herself drawn into his fantasy lovemaking and had had difficulty keeping her mind on monitoring his other vital brain wave activities. His regard for his dream partner’s satisfaction and comfort had surprised her and was something she had not expected of the five-year combat veteran. “A book and its cover,” she thought, returning to the problem she was faced with. To Cathy, these Mecrats were real people with real thoughts and not just some pentagon program to create a better soldier. An unpredicted performance, even a good one had the potential to hurt them. More than anybody, the Mecrats needed to know exactly what their mechanical bodies were capable of, or not capable of. Given the amount of money the pentagon had already invested in them, it was a sure bet they would be deployed to the field as soon as they were deemed fit to go.

  Unable to decide how to address the problem, she decided to go check on Sargent Rucker’s progress. He was still going through his preliminary performance trials before being released to join the rest of the Mecrats for field training.

  Chapter 3

  Sergeant Randolph Rucker, more affectionately known as Reckless by his former squad members stood at the foot of the industrial sized treadmill. “Todays the day,” he thought with determination. “Todays I am going to become the fastest animal on earth.” Yesterday he had clocked out at sixty-five miles an hour before the treadmill had ground to a halt from the pounding the nine foot tall, eight hundred pound Mecrat had subjected it to. He had been reassured by the technicians that it would not break down this time.

  The sound of a door opening caused Randy to look in that direction. He was genuinely pleased to see Dr. Williamson walking toward the group of technicians gathered around the monitors.

  “Dr. W, how are you today. Are you here to watch me break the record?” He switched his vision setting to infrared and was rewarded with a revealing heat profile of the nubile doctor as she approached the group. “You’re looking hot today, Ma’am,”

  Cathy smiled slightly and pointed her finger at him and waved it side to side. She knew what he was doing. “Turn off the charm, Sergeant Rucker. You’re wasting your time.”

  The giant Mecrat made a gesture with his shovel sized hand. “A person has to have hope, Dr. W.”

  It was a word Cathy had often used herself to describe the outcome of the many doubtful steps she had taken to insert a living human brain into something almost as big as a pickup truck. It was a fallback word that had kept her from being ground down by her doubts about the validity of her work. But it had all seem justified when she had experienced the inner thoughts of the ten men and women during their transition period. These were people worth saving. They had sacrificed almost everything for their country. The final justification came when she watched them perform inhuman acts of athletic prowess. Instead of being dead and buried, they were alive, mobile and incredibly strong. For the most part they had accepted their alternative life.

  Sergeant Randy Rucker was her reward for sticking with the program and holding steady to the course. From his record she had learned he had been valued by his fellow soldiers for his sense of humor and his unfailing willingness to take chances for his squad members. More than a few of them owed their life to the fearless sergeant. Her mental connections to him had renewed her faith in her involvement in the program. It still amazed her how such a warrior on the surface could have such a nice soul on the inside.

  What Randy had said about hope made her wonder what he, or any of the other Mecrats hoped for in the future. They were now fully dedicated war machines. In the future would they sit around hoping for a war? Would the end of war mean the end of their usefulness? She wondered what were their dreams and hopes and promised herself to check it out, more out of curiosity than for any other specific purpose, but mainly because she cared for them.

  When the technician gave the signal, Randy got back on the treadmill and started walking to the pace set by another tech who was studying a monitor.

  The tech manning the monitor looked up at the large Mecrat striding easily. “I’m going to increase the pace steadily until we match yesterday’s top speed, Sergeant Rucker. Anytime you want to stop or slow down, just press the red button on your handheld device.”

  “Got it, let’s go.”

  Cathy moved around to stand behind the monitor so she could see the performance numbers. Several of the other scientists who had worked on the project came in and joined her. Dr. Bill Lenkowski was in charge of body design and structure. Dr. Alice Warton and Dr, Jack Hellerton had developed the artificial muscle tissue that powered the Mecrats and Dr. Hulao Tsunshan was responsible for the compact power source that keep the Mecrats running. There were three other senior scientists involved in the project including George Zimmerman, but they seemed less interested in the actual progress the Mecrats were making and more interested in development side of the program.

  Randy increased his pace as the treadmill sped up. Soon the room seemed to shake from the impact of the Mecrats’ titanium feet hitting the rubber surface. Cathy switched back and forth from looking at the monitor to looking at Randy’s face, who occasionally turned his massive head to look at her. The Mecrats had no facial features that could express emotions, but Cathy knew that inside his mind, Randy was smiling at her. She was certain of it, but did not know how she knew it was true.

  “Seventy miles-an-hour,” the tech said and looked at Randy. Randy made a rolling motion with his hand to keep going.

  The sound was deafening as the treadmill strained to keep up with the increased pounding.

  “He’s peaked out at seventy-nine miles-an-hour. That seems to be as fast as he can go.” The tech looked at the gathered scientists for guidance on what to do next.

  Dr. Tsunshan looked at the numbers on the monitor. “Let’s see how long his power pack holds up at this speed.”

  Cathy scanned the power readout and felt concern for the amount of power the Mecrat was expending to keep up the pace of seventy-nine miles-an-hour. Without a body to maintain, the size of life support system required to maintain the brain was vastly reduced, but the brain was a nutrient hungry organ and Randy would be in real danger if the power levels fell below what Cathy considered safe. The Mecrat would never show signs of tiring. Randy could keep running at this pace for as long as he had power and the desire to do so. He was now already the fastest mammal on earth, having surpassed the sprint speed of a cheetah on a hunt. The difference was that in the ten minutes he had been running at full speed, he had covered more than thirteen miles.

  After twenty five minutes, Cathy reached over and hit the kill switch. Dr. Tsunshan shot her a stern look and Cathy simply pointed to the red line on the power readout. “Below that he starts to die, Dr. Tsunshan. I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for that.”

  The doctor shook his head silently and left the lab.

  Randy dismounted from the treadmill and stretched for no reason. It was his mind telling his mechanical body what he would have done as a living runner after such a strenuous run.

  “Wow that was great. God, I could use a cold beer.”

&
nbsp; “I’m afraid you’re going to have to settle for a recharge instead, Randy.” Cathy had been very careful not to over react to the Mecrats’ statements about wanting things that were no longer possible for them to have. If their statement required an answer, she answered it honestly without sugar coating, but sometime humorously if the situation allowed it.

  “Alright Dr. W, but just make sure it’s a Budweiser recharge.”

  Cathy’s good humor returned. “I’ll make sure of that, Randy. Let’s talk while you’re battery pack is being recharged.”

  “Let’s talk,” was a synonym for hooking up, brain-to-brain. It was something Cathy did from time to time with all the Mecrats to check the progress they were making in integrating their minds to their new bodies. For some, like Randy, the transition had been remarkably smooth. Two of the earlier Mecrats, Warrant Officer Angela Gonzales and Corporal John Stueben were having difficulties adjusting. Cathy was not sure what the outcome would be for them. She worried that John Stueben was becoming unstable and might become a danger to himself and to those around him.

  Randy strode over to the lab wall, took a power cord from a bracket and casually attached it to a socket in his right hip. Normally his hydrogen fuel cell provided all the power he needed, but his high speed run had consumed power greater than the output of the fuel cell and he had depleted a good part of his battery reserves. The outside charge was only to bring his batteries up to normal. After hooking up, the huge Mecrats squatted on the floor to be at head height with Cathy, who was almost four feet shorter than he was. She put on a cranial head band and handed the cord to Randy who inserted it into another socket on his chest. As soon as the big Mecrat had completed the connection, a wash of emotion swept over Cathy. She realized it was from Randy’s mental euphoria of breaking the land speed record for a living entity.

  She checked his mental vitals, which were projected in front of her vision by the headband. All the wave patterns were elevated, but well within tolerances.

  “That was pretty amazing, Randy.”

  “It surprised me too.” He didn’t elaborate and Cathy got the impression he was holding something back.

  “Okay, Sergeant Rucker. What is it you’re not telling me?”

  The huge head turned to look at her. Even though he had a single horizontal vision slit that spanned his face, Cathy felt like his nonexistent pupils were boring in on her. Not for the first time she thought his head resembled an ancient Spartan war helmet. She felt his probing thoughts and decided to let him wander around her mind instead of blocking him as she had in the past. After all, when he was helpless and unable to resist, she had invaded his privacy and had explored his inner thoughts, the good ones as well as the not so good ones.

  After a moment, the Mecrat said, “I trust you.” It was a simple statement, but it carried a mountain of meaning. “You really do care about us, Dr. W. and I believe we need someone who cares for us as soldiers, not as machines.”

  She didn’t say anything, aloud or mentally. It was not necessary. Randy knew the truth. Several of the lab techs working in the area looked at the pair sitting quietly while the Mecrat was getting his batteries charged. They soon lost interest and continued on with their work.

  The Mecrat turned his head back and stared straight ahead, perhaps to stop the curious glances. “I could have run much faster, Dr. W., but I didn’t want them to know that.”

  “I think I understand why.” She didn’t express anything for a moment, letting her thoughts speak for her. “You’re afraid of what they’ll do with the information.”

  “Yes. To some of them, we Mecrats are just machines, something to use without real consideration for the person inside.”

  He didn’t have to explain who “they” were. Cathy understood who Randy was referring to. The Mecrats were a military sponsored program and this base was a secret military installation. The men who came here from Washington had a hungry look about them when they reviewed the program results and saw the Mecrats in operation. The old adage about there had never been a weapon invented that didn’t eventually get used probably described the Mecrats destiny.

  Cathy had understood from the very beginning that she was inventing a weapon, a human weapon, but none-the-less a weapon. Somewhere in the course of the program, a few of her fellow scientists and their military counterparts had conveniently forgotten that human minds were inside those weapons. Every weapon ever invented was either destroyed in battle or became obsolete and discarded when newer weapons became available. Her big question was, where did the Mecrats fit in that formula? Were they going to be treated as machines or soldiers? The problem was they were showing sign of being very good as war machines, perhaps too good for their own future existence.

  Cathy was curious. “How fast do you think you could have run today, Randy?”

  “Ninety miles-an-hour with short burst of one hundred miles-an-hour,” the Mecrat answered casually.

  Cathy knew he was giving her factual information. Since they were connected mind-to-mind, she would have sensed any deception on his part. This ability to read the true intent behind what they were saying had created the most intimate relationship Cathy had ever experienced. It both frightened her and thrilled her.

  “That’s far greater than projected, Randy. How is that possible?” Her degree in electrical engineering gave her a very good understanding of the mechanical side of her wards. She knew that all the projections had predicted a top speed of perhaps sixty miles an hour.

  Cathy watched with fascination as the Mecrat made a walking motion with his large carbon fiber fingers. “Those projections were based on the amount of energy the engineers estimated we would require to keep our mechanical bodies upright while walking or running. I’ve discovered, and I know it’s the same for the other Rats, that we are leaning how to manage the mechanical balancing aspects of our bodies better than any of the engineers projected. Every week I discover I’m using far less energy to stay upright and balanced than I did the week before. Most of my motions are becoming automatic. That excess power allows us to run faster and do other things quicker than anticipated.”

  Cathy was thrilled with his answer. Just as their human body had once run on autonomic reactions requiring no conscious thoughts, the Mecrats were learning how to do the same with their mechanical bodies. It was what she had hoped for. More than anything she wanted the men and women trapped in their large mechanical bodies to feel human, but she shared Randy’s concern about the Mecrats increased performance. “You be careful with that information, Randy. Tell the other Mecrats to keep their performances within the estimated range.”

  The big machine turned his head to look at her again. “I think I understand why, Dr. W, but explain it to me just to be sure.”

  Cathy knew that on some level what she was about to say would be considered treasonous by some members of the military, but she plunged ahead anyway. “If they learn what you are really capable of, they will send you on missions that will be at the limit of those abilities. Your chances of survival will increase considerably if your limits are not pushed.”

  Randy continued to stare at her for a moment until Cathy had to look away from his gaze. “Thank you, Cathy. I’ll tell the other ‘Rats what you said.”

  Chapter 4

  General Edward Emerson handed his brief case to his aide and walked nimbly up the steps of the G5 Gulfstream. The steward at the head of the stairs did a quick confirming count of the people coming up the steps behind him. All his passengers were accounted for.

  “Good morning, Sir. Captain Mathews tells me we’ll be wheels up in ten minutes.”

  “Thanks, Henry, what’s our weather like?”

  “Sunny and smooth all the way.”

  The general nodded and moved to his preferred seat at a small conference table located ahead of the wing area. Asking about the weather was an old habit, but it was of minimal concern to the flight crew. The Gulfstream would fly close to fifty thousand feet, far above any
weather that might conceivable give the general and his staff any uncomfortable moments.

  As predicted, ten minutes later the plane rose into the morning sky and headed west. In less than four hours they would be in Nevada. It was a routine they had performed twice a month for the past seven years since the early development stages of the top secret Mecrats Project. This trip would be different. In the general’s brief case were combat orders. It was time to put the pentagon’s huge investment to work.

  Rumors about the Mecrats Project had been appearing in the press recently and the brass had decided it was time to conduct a mission while they still had the element of surprise. The general and his staff had picked out what they thought was the perfect first target, a high profile rescue operation.

  For more than seven years, the Islamic State had terrorized the mid-east. In the instability following the Arab Spring, a radical Islamic element, urged on by hardline Sunni imams had carved out a nation from parts of Syria and Iraq and had created a sharia based government. Life in the area had descended into a thirteen century level of existence. The men in power were brutal in a way that had not seen since the genocide of the Jews conducted by the Nazi party in Germany. It was estimated that five percent of the entire population in the enclosed area had either been killed in battle or had been executed. With few exceptions every Shi’ite Muslim and a substantial population of Christians had fled the area. A steady stream of disenchanted Muslim radicals from around the world who had emigrated to the new Islamic State had kept the fires of hatred going long after they should have died out.

  The concerned nations of the world led by America had the capability of stamping out the festering sore, but after protracted wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, plus festering hot spots in North Africa and Yemen, the American people had had enough of trying to eradicate a version of Islam that seemed to have an endless supply of sympathizers and finances. America focused its attention on protecting it citizens from home grown terrorists and kept a close eye on the radicals in the Mideast. The American military reacted swiftly if the radicals took any steps to attack their neighbors or America itself. Beyond that the current administration expected the people of the area to take care of the problem, which so far they had been unable or unwilling to do.