The voice in his head scowled him back to the present. Move. Danny fingered the chest numbers one more time then tossed the jersey onto the bed and headed for the exit.
After leaving Reegan and Shotz on Overlook—neither of them having clearance to join the day’s activities—Danny hopped an early shuttle and arrived on post at Fort Manning as the first streaks of dawn flecked the horizon. He’d forgotten how gorgeous it was, all of those oranges, reds, and purples kaleidoscoping together atop the gray-and-green backdrop of Retaun’s coastal mountains. It reminded him of a Monet he’d seen once in the Pérez Art Museum in Miami.
Exiting his ship onto the pavement, Danny followed his escort—a brunette corporal named Riley according to the name strip on her mechanic’s uniform—to a topless utility truck at the edge of the tarmac. They climbed in and minutes later were rumbling down the familiar base blacktop toward Bowen Field.
“So,” Danny said from the passenger seat. “I’m guessing by your threads you work in the motor pool.”
Riley nodded, eyes fixed firmly on the road.
“Sergeant Ball still running that shop?”
She didn’t respond. For that matter, she barely even acknowledged he’d spoken.
Okay, then. Danny shrugged it off and gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was thoughtful while driving. Still, he was pretty sure she recognized him and thought him a deserter. I feel ya, Briggs.
Crossing the bridge onto Manning’s east side, Riley eased the vehicle into Bowen’s gravel parking lot and brought it to rest near the corner-field obstacle course.
“Dr. Reiser and his staff are expecting you in the observation lab.” She pointed from the driver’s seat to a canvas tent across the yard.
Danny hopped out and threw the corporal a wave. “Thanks. I think I’ve got it from here.”
Riley nodded and sped off. Meanwhile, Danny headed for the tent.
“Ah, Danny,” Doc said from inside. “Won’t you come in?”
Danny dropped the entrance flap behind him and instantly noted the old man’s outer attire: a freshly pressed lab coat. “That’s a good look for you, Doc. You ought to break it out more often.”
“That’s what I suh-said!” Remy agreed from a nearby workbench. He, too, was wearing a lab coat, although his was missing a small strip of fabric from the base—it now served as a headband.
“Remy,” Danny said.
“Bossman,” the kid mumbled past a mouthful of fingers.
Danny glanced around the tent and saw several more computer stations but no users. “Where is everybody?”
“Lee and the others will be along shortly. Katie and Jon, however, are next door.” Doc reached for the divider flap that walled off the adjoining room. “After you, sir.”
Danny dipped his head and crossed through to find Katie and Reiser on the other side. They were huddled around Mr. Black, whose chest cavity was open to expose the operator’s cocoon inside. “Morning everybody. What goes on?”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Reiser said to Katie while totally missing Danny’s greeting. “Absolutely astounding!”
“Yeah.” Danny pointed at the armor. “He gets that a lot.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Danny. Welcome.” Reiser straightened on his cane. “Katie and I were just going over some of the finer points of Dr. Khard’s data. I must say, the progress you all have made—especially given the utter lack of resources you had to work with—well, to be frank, it boggles the mind.”
“Not if you knew my guys,” Danny said.
Reiser ran a palm through his gray-flecked hair. “Indeed. Dr. Khard’s reputation does precede him. Not even I can deny that.”
Danny tilted his head. “You do know Remy was there, too, right?”
“Kuh-kaw!”
“You’re welcome, buddy.” Danny turned back to Reiser. “So yeah, it was a team effort.”
Reiser nodded. “It’s fine work. You are all to be commended.”
Katie picked up a computer tablet and showed Danny to an exam table at the back wall. “All right, slick. I know you’ve been waiting all your life for me to say this, so brace yourself…take off your shirt.”
Danny reached for his shirttail to comply.
“Seriously?” Katie blinked. “I teed that up for you like a caddy at Pinehurst, and I get crickets?”
“Just do your job, Katie, so we can get on with this.” Danny stripped off his shirt and turned his bare back to her.
Katie gasped.
“What? You wanted to see the interface, right?” Danny hung his head when it dawned on him. The scars.
“Holy crap, Danny.” Katie cupped her hands over her mouth. “Please tell me it wasn’t the armor that did this to you.”
“No.” He sighed. “Most of that happened when I fled the Axius. The rest I got during my days with the ASC.”
Katie held frozen for a long moment. Eventually, she pried herself loose to inspect Danny’s spine. “Geez, talk about unreal. Are these things fused straight through the tissue?”
Danny nodded.
“Do they hurt?”
“They itched at first, but after a while, I got used to them.”
With the gentlest of care, Katie slid her fingers to the plug under his skull. “This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, on Earth or Aura. It’s remarkable.” She stopped and turned to Doc. “I was up until three in the morning reading your work, so a lot of this is still new to me. But once and for all, I need you to explain precisely how this works.”
Doc offered a humble bow and stepped forward. “As is now known, the Kurgorians make use of biotechnology for much of their fleet and arsenal. Thus, in order to use that tech, we had to first adapt it for coupling with the human anatomy.”
“You rewrote the software,” Reiser said.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Doc said. “Once Remy cracked Mr. Black’s operating system, we soon learned that the armor is piloted from within by a neural link between the operator and the suit. The stronger the link, the higher the performance; hence, Danny’s functionality was limited on the Axius. It was tenuous at best.”
“I read about this last night.” Katie snapped her fingers. “The link process, that is. The Kurgorians call it Fopt Ze-something or other.”
“Fopt zebrikta,” Doc said. “Loosely translated, it means the bridge.”
Reiser knit his arms. “Talk to me about the chemical component. What’s that all about?”
“Ah,” Doc said. “The juice, as Danny refers to it—his term, not Kurgorian. The juice is the actual conductive solution that’s pumped into the operator by way of the spinal interface. Its functions are twofold: to catalyze and maintain bridge integrity, and to quell the various nutritional deficiencies that are a byproduct of armor usage.”
“What was the process?” Reiser asked.
“My study consisted of three phrases,” Doc explained. “Phase One involved basic exploration of the Kurgorian genome to discern how the aliens’ physiology harmonized with the hardware. After that, I ran a comprehensive screening of the juice in its native form for general toxicity, genotoxicity, carcinogenicity, neurotox—”
“Pretty much anything that could kill me,” Danny said.
Doc beetled a silver brow at him. “A morbid summation but accurate nonetheless. Once tox testing was complete, we advanced to Phase Two. This part of the process involved my isolation and alteration of those elements deemed necessary for bridging, as well as the stripping away of those needed for Kurgorian sustenance. The latter were then replaced by thiamine, folic acid, magnesium sulfate, and so forth then blended with the modified former to create a human hybrid of the formula.”
“So in essence, you broke down the solution in its native form then fused it with a banana bag.” Katie said, impressed. “Nice.”
Doc gave another bow. “Thank you, Dr. Summerston. This was far and away the most challenging part of the process, and to be honest, we still don’t have it perfected. I went through hundreds of
assays before I finally arrived at a protocol I believed safe enough for Phase Three—clinical trials.”
Reiser twitched at that last part. “Mind if I ask how you arrived at that conclusion?”
Doc didn’t miss a beat. “Each version of the human juice was tested statistically via high-throughput screening. If it achieved validity, it was tested in vitro, then in vivo in yeast.”
“Excellent,” Reiser said. “How many trials did it take to reach a viable protocol?”
“Quite a few as I’m sure you can imagine,” Doc said. “Even the P32 that we use now isn’t without its limitations.”
“Such as?” Katie asked.
“Durability, mostly. At present, the P32 gives Danny full, across-the-board armor access for up to thirty-three minutes in a high-intensity combat situation—an hour at minimal operations.”
“Thirty-three minutes.” Katie wrinkled her nose. “That’s not a lot of time under fire. Was there no way to raise that?”
Doc shook his head. “None that I could find, and believe me, it wasn’t for a lack of searching.”
“Thoughts on why?” Reiser asked.
“If I had to guess? I think we’ve diluted the original juice formula as far as we can. To modify it any more makes it, at best, unrecognizable by the system or, at worse, a threat to it.”
Reiser’s head tipped slightly to the side. “What do you mean by a threat?”
“There was one instance when I thought I’d cracked the duration issue—the P41-Z. My initial projections had its life span at upwards of a hundred and three combat minutes per dose. It tested perfectly across the board, first in stats then eventually in clinical prelims. There were no side effects, no signs of rejection beyond the initial discomforts of dosage. Nothing. Everything was fine…until Danny climbed into the armor with the 41-Z in his system and initiated a bridge.” Doc glanced at Mr. Black. “Then things were decidedly less fine.”
“What happened?” Katie asked.
Remy lunged forward in his seat and rocketed out his tongue. “Bluaaah!”
“Ooh, gross.” Katie cringed.
“If you only knew the half of it,” Danny said. “Mr. Black’s helmet was sealed shut when it happened.”
“Bluaaah!”
“Oh!” Katie buried her face in her arm. “I can’t unsee that!”
“Yep,” Danny said. “A full-chow blast, right to the face.”
“Ahhh!” Katie wailed through her sleeve.
“In fairness, part of that was my fault,” Danny admitted. “Too much juice of any kind at once tends to induce an upchuck, and I was feeling pretty zealous that day. Even so, the hurl itself wasn’t the crappy part. Wanna know what was?”
“Not even a little!” Katie insisted.
“I got to marinate in all of that for the next four hours while Doc and the others fought to get me out of the suit.”
Reiser raised a hand. “Why’s that? Couldn’t you just key the dismount sequence from your HUD?”
“Ordinarily, yeah.” Danny scratched his head. “Problem was, I didn’t have a HUD at the time. The second I set a bridge with the 41Z, the entire system redlined to crash—we’re talking Y2K, Mayan 2012 here. That’s why my helmet didn’t respond when I hurled.” He leaned back on the exam table. “Honestly, I was just happy to have life support.”
Katie shied away, her expression still one of revolted green. Meanwhile, Remy continued his faux vomiting.
“Uh-huh, laugh it up, runt.” Danny rolled his eyes. “Next time, I’ll give Shotz a pass and make you clean up the mess.”
“Okay, so back to the P32, since that’s the current standard.” Reiser shifted. “You mentioned malnutrition earlier as a possible side effect of armor usage. Were there others? Short- or long-term?”
Doc hesitated before answering. “Yes, the operator does experience a few short-term symptoms with bridge engagement, though they dissipate within seconds.”
“What are they?” Reiser asked.
“Nothing you need to sweat, Jon.” Danny patted Mr. Black’s arm. “Outside of the occasional migraine, it’s all good.”
“I appreciate that, Danny, but I’d prefer to hear that from Dr. Khard.” Reiser turned back to Doc. “You were about to say?”
“The migraines are there, for starters,” Doc said, “plus brief but intense bouts with tremors, limb stiffness, nausea, and muscle fatigue.”
“Ouch.” Reiser stood back. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“It’s not,” Danny replied. “But like Doc said, it’s over fast, then I’ve got full use of the system. In my book, that’s an even trade.”
“How about immune response?” Katie asked. “Any barriers there with regard to the foreign elements you couldn’t filter out?”
“Some,” Doc said. “Tissue inflammation and fever were problems in the beginning, but I was able to counter those with a steroid.”
“And long-term effects?” Katie said. “Anything there to worry about?”
Doc licked his lips. “At this time, there’s no way to—”
“Nope,” Danny cut in. “Doc’s torn the P32 apart from top to bottom and found no worries for long-term.”
Katie craned her neck back to Doc, looking less than convinced. “Is that true?”
The crow’s feet at the old man’s eyes crinkled. “At this time, my studies have neither confirmed nor denied the existence of any long-term adverse effects associated with armor usage.”
“See, there ya go.” Danny clapped his hands. “Everybody happy?”
Katie threw him a smirk. “Humor me for a moment, Dr. Khard. If you were to theorize about long-term effects based on the findings you do have, what would they look like?”
Doc raised his palms. “I couldn’t possibly—”
“Humor me.”
Doc shot a glance to Danny, who shook his head. “There is evidence, Dr. Summerston—infinitesimal though it may be—that suggests Danny could experience later-life outcomes stemming from the native juice elements that I couldn’t extract.”
Katie stepped forward. “What kind of outcomes?”
Doc closed his eyes and exhaled through his nostrils. “Severe neurodegeneration through gradual neuron death, eventually resulting in massive dopamine loss.”
Katie whirled to Danny. “You idiot! What were you thinking?”
“I’d ask the same.” Reiser moved on Doc.
“Everybody back the hell off!” Danny leapt to his feet and snatched up his shirt. “I was thinking, Katie, that I had a mission to do. I still do, and Mr. Black is how I do it. Now, I didn’t come here for this. Lee came to me, remember?”
“Danny, you can’t possibly—”
“Shut it, Scragly.” Danny stared at Katie. “Debate’s over. This is not your call, understand? Nor is it Reiser’s or Doc’s. It’s mine. You want to sit around here all day, theorizing about what might or might not happen based on some random set of numbers that pop up once every ten thousand tries, fine. Be my guest, but I’ve got a job to get back to. Now, the way I see it, you’ve got two options. You can get on board with my mission and learn what you need to help the ASC, or you can take your condescension and shove it up your ass. Either way, choice is yours. But make it already, and stop wasting my time.”
“Ahem.”
Danny spun to find Mac, Link, and Hamish standing at the door flap.
Lee was with them. “I’m figurin’ this a bad time?”
* * * * *
Chapter 12: Analysis Under Fire
Danny dropped his eyes as Lee and the others entered the tent.
“No, not a bad time at all,” Reiser said. “I’m glad you’re here. It means we can get started.”
Lee stepped forward and regarded Mr. Black with a mild shudder. “Frickin’ thing still gives me the creeps.”
“That’s the idea.” Danny folded his arms.
Lee, resigned, nodded. “So, we got an itinerary for this little shindig or what?”
“Indeed we do
.” Reiser shuffled to the tent’s rear exit and raised the flap, casting the floor in sunrise orange. “Right this way, everyone. I have some things to show you.”
Danny waited for Katie, Reiser, and Lee to leave then did so himself ahead of Doc and Remy.
Once outside, Reiser led them across the yard to a long table covered in a navy-blue sheet. “Dr. Summerston, if you’d be so kind?”
Katie grabbed hold of a corner and pulled the cover free. Underneath it were no less than three dozen firearms. They ranged in size from sidearms to lightweight assault rifles like the A-90, though there were a few specialty weapons as well. Among them were the SR-29 long-barreled sniper rifle and the latest class of Harbinger.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” Link ran to the table and, to no one’s surprise, went straight for the SR-29. He put the weapon to his shoulder and peered into its scope. “Hello, baby girl. Daddy’s home.”
“Easy there, short round.” Mac picked up an A-90. “Your wife might be a little jealous if she heard you talking like that to another lady.”
Link grinned as Hamish ambled past them to one of the original Harbingers.
“Hello there, love.” The Scot studied the weapon then picked it up by the straps and slung it over his shoulders, securing the barrel gauntlet onto his right forearm. He heaved a sigh, and Danny wondered which was bigger, the smile on Hamish’s face or the weapon on his back.
Then there was Lee, sidearm in hand as always.
Doc frickin’ Holliday. Danny suppressed a smile.
“Anybody else feelin’ a touch of déjà vu here?” Lee slapped a mag into his weapon then shoved it into his low-hanging thigh rig. “Anybody at all?”
“Golly, dear husband, why ever would you?” Mac cla-clacked back the slide on her rifle. “Could it be because here we are, five knuckleheads from the planet Earth, being asked to step up to the plate and test-drive an experimental piece of technology that could, in theory, turn the tide of Aura’s war with Alystier?”
Lee scoffed. “Nah, that can’t be it.”
The entire group, save for Danny, shared a laugh.
Katie leaned in to Reiser. “Is this how it was back in the original Mimic days?”
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