by David Brush
“In a short time, the entire force that we have amassed here will besiege the plant, capturing Dr. Nightrick and all of the equipment he is producing there. Hopefully we can take the good doctor alive, so that we might repay him for his treatment of our late Richard Crane. If we fail in this endeavor, then carrion crows and worms will be all that await us, but if we succeed, we will have crippled Neuro Corp and won the single greatest victory of this entire struggle. It’s a risk, I know. But with the Lord leading us in battle, what enemy can hope to prosper against us? What stone can strike us underneath the banner of the King of Kings? This will be the moment that defines us. This will be the moment in which we usher in the new era of our God. We cannot fail Him, for we are the chosen, His sword and His shield. Let us strike off the head of the beast and salt the earth of Dr. Johnathan Nightrick!”
The room went mad, cheering and chanting like James had never heard before. As he looked around, he knew that just about every single person gathered there would gladly die to see the day won, and Dante would gladly allow it if it meant winning. Despite all of his misgivings, he couldn’t help but cheer along with them, knowing that this was his moment too.
Dante stepped off the stage and approached him while the thunderous applause continued on, ignoring everyone else. “Saul, I hope you’re ready to prove your worth,” he said, ushering the boy quickly through the back door and out into a narrow hall that connected the amphitheater to the Crusaders’ council chamber. Two large black flags were draped on either side of the grand marble door leading into the usually restricted space. As the small group entered the room, James noticed Dr. Reya standing over a stone table upon which a convulsing man had been strapped down. Around her in a semicircle were the chairs of the high council, cut in the same fashion as the table they flanked.
“He’s shorting-out,” said James, recognizing the person having the seizure before him. The last time that the boy had looked into Dr. Tellman’s eyes, they had been glazed brown. Now, however, it appeared as though the glaze had melted into a thick brown soup that was swirling around the doctor’s pupils. The patient spit a glob of viscous goo up onto his shirt as more of the white foam dripped down his chin.
“That’s what I thought at first too,” said Dr. Reya, acknowledging the newcomers. “However, he’s not displaying any of the classic symptoms. Look at his irises; it has to be something else. It almost looks as if his mind is coming un-Inducted, if such a thing is even possible.”
“Mira has been attempting to solve this little problem of ours, but so far she’s proven to be unsuccessful,” said Dante in an irritated tone. “I just announced to our entire organization that the Reborn program was proving to be a great success. Don’t make a liar out of me, Saul.”
“Alright,” said James. “Let’s start with the basics then. Give me a full list of the chemicals you used to Induct him and we’ll go from there.”
“Done,” said Dr. Reya, swiping the commands into her datacuff. James looked down at his own as it chirped lightly, and pulled up the reagent list. He scanned the entries, tapping open the files to look at a projected 3-D model of each compound. One by one he searched until he finally arrived at a structure that gave him pause.
“Here’s the problem,” he said. “Look at stabilizer SB24. It’s the D variant instead of the L.”
“Speak plainly,” said Dante.
“This compound has the wrong chirality. It’s a mirror image of what it should be,” replied James. “In other words, the stabilizer is as good as missing. Everyone that you’ve Inducted so far will burn out into this if we don’t find a way to cure them.”
“You’re telling me that our entire Reborn division is as good as poisoned?” said Dante, starting to go red. “Your only job here was to synthesize these chemicals. You failed me, Saul.”
“No, I didn’t. My compounds worked just fine. You had me creating the neurotransmitters and auxiliary primers, which I did flawlessly. You’ll notice that the stereochemistry of my chemicals is correct.”
“Then who do we have to thank for this blatant incompetence?” asked Dante, turning redder with each passing second.
James tapped the compound’s file back open to find the chemist responsible. “Err…,” he started. “It looks like Dr. Tellman was the one tasked with synthesizing the stabilizers.”
A strained, gurgling laughter filled the chamber from the man convulsing before them. With all his might, Dr. Tellman stopped twisting long enough to stare at Dante with his liquefied eyes. “I’ll…see…you…in hell, Dante,” spat the doctor, launching another thick glob of spittle up onto his chest.
Dante’s face suddenly returned to its normal pale shade. His expression softened as he reached into Dr. Reya’s medical case and pulled out a thin, cylindrical object. Flicking the switch on, the zealot brought the laser scalpel clear across Dr. Tellman’s throat in one clean motion. No blood sprang forth thanks to the cauterizing effect of the heat, only the scent of burned flesh. James looked down at the long, gaping wound that now lined the former chemist’s neck and decided that it might be best to keep his opinions on the matter to himself. Dr. Reya, on the other hand, once again looked mortified.
“Sir,” she said, regaining her composure. “We need to act quickly if we’re going to save the others.”
“Save them?” said Dante. “This little fiasco isn’t about to go public. They’re all going to be incinerated and we’ll start again with the correct chemicals this time. I will not allow the Reborn program to be publicized as a disaster.”
“There has to be a few hundred of them by now. Killing them all is insane,” said Dr. Reya. “I mean… we can save them. There’s no need to kill them all.”
Dante backhanded the woman, laying her out hard against the unfurnished ground. “Mira, I keep you close because you’re frankly the most skilled physician that I’ve ever encountered, but if you ever speak to me like that again, I’ll have you praying that I show you the same mercy I just showed Dr. Tellman. Now these men and women will die so that the Reborn program can live. War is sacrifice. You should know that by now.”
She glanced down at the ground, trying her best to ignore the throbbing pain in her jaw. “I apologize, your holiness. I don’t know what came over me.”
Dante nodded, turning his gaze over to James. “Don’t look so dejected, Saul. It’s not all bad news. I received word this morning from our research division that they’ve discovered a way to chemically bypass neural mapping. Now all we need is your compound and we can truly begin transforming the Earth. God willing, we will baptize this planet in gas.”
Haley sat up in her bed and looked out the small window that served as her only remaining connection to the outside world. Based on the position of the moon in the night sky, she knew that she had about four hours until dawn. She turned her head towards the newly installed cameras that had been left to monitor her after her last breakout attempt, suppressing the small smile that had started to creep across her face. Standing up, she pulled the sheet off of her bed and quickly began winding it into a thick rope, her hands moving like lightning as she twisted the taut fabric into a makeshift noose. She pulled over her seat of choice and climbed up, working quickly to secure the sheet across the rafters. Once the knot had been pulled tight, she gave the cameras pointed at her one last glance, then placed the circle ceremoniously around her head.
3…2…1….
The door burst open as two Special Branch operatives ran into the cell to stop her. She pulled back her head and hoisted herself up off the hanging rope, bringing her foot across the black helmet of the man reaching out to seize her. The unsuspecting guard went flying into the wooden dresser nearby, knocking all of her books over onto the floor into one giant heap. She dropped off of the rope as the second man scrambled to grab her. Dodging to the left, she swung hard at the remaining guard, but he blocked with his forearm. He tried getting his hands on her once again, but she slid by him, grabbing the pistol out of his holster and
bringing her foot down on the back of his knee in one clean motion, causing his leg to fold. She rode the appendage hard into the ground, shattering the man’s patella against the tile floor. Before she could take a second to catch her breath, the other guard was back on his feet, hunched over in pain still but drawing his own sidearm all the same. By the time he got the weapon clear of its holster, she was through the door already. The operative ran out after her, firing down the long hall at the escapee as she jolted from side to side like a dog that had managed to get loose from its cage. She fired blindly back at him with her stolen weapon, sending slug after slug towards him as he tried to catch up to her. Hitting the staircase, she lunged down the first full flight of steps, landing gracefully on the clearing below. She continued to jump down each successive flight with a nimbleness more befitting a gymnast than a biochemist. Well aware from her previous escape attempts of what was waiting for her on the ground level, she rolled into the second floor landing and proceeded out into the lobby.
The foyer was empty, save the night receptionist, who screamed as the young rebel hurdled over the desk at her. Haley pulled the woman back onto her feet and pressed the stolen handgun up to her head. “Open the blast doors, now.”
Hands shaking, the receptionist typed the command into her console, causing the large metal barricade to grind open.
“Thank you,” said Haley, pistol whipping the woman. As the assaulted employee slumped over onto the ground, the young rebel continued down the long hall towards her destination, finding the stretching corridor abandoned in the dead of night. Off in the distance, she could hear that someone had realized where exactly she had gotten off of the staircase. The voices continued to get louder and louder as she found the doorway that she had been searching for, which to her surprise was wide open. Behind her, she heard the heavy blast doors at the far end of the hall grinding shut again.
She kept the stolen handgun raised as she went from room to room looking for Dr. Nightrick. Inching her way into his lab, she finally realized that she was being watched. The young rebel glanced over at the entity beaming out of the hub in the wall. The dim red glow of Edison cast its light onto the nearby panels, giving him a menacing aura as he stood there, observing.
“Hello, prisoner #15234867130,” said the AI. “My name is Edison. I am the commanding officer of this installation now.”
She frowned. “The commanding officer? Dr. Nightrick has left the Atria?”
“No. The doctor has been confined to his quarters for the time being, unaware of the full extent of what is transpiring around him. In the event of Dr. Truman’s untimely death, I have been programed to secure this installation from all threats, both internal and external. My master never trusted his employer, and as such he had the good sense to ensure a contingency plan in the event that he was unable to finish removing the nuisance himself. Dr. Nightrick’s course is not in the best interest of the Atria Plant.
“He has worked tirelessly to deliberately lure an insurgency towards the facility. The plant is now beyond saving thanks largely to his carelessness. While he has made the impending damage to the Atria imminent, I will be able to oversee its reconstruction once the dust settles, as long as Dr. Nightrick and his entourage are no longer interfering in the affairs of this facility. He is the primary threat to the long term security of the Atria Plant and must therefore be contained.”
“So you’re holding him hostage?”
“Not quite. The only way to ensure the continued survival of this installation is to liquidate those who would seek to harm it in the first place. The first and foremost offender is Dr. Johnathan Nightrick. I have allowed you access to his quarters so that you may finish neutralizing him. For my part, I have nullified whatever soldiers stationed here that I have had access to. Soon I will reinforce this position in order to finish exterminating the doctor’s cohorts and catalyzing the inevitable. However, I cannot risk allowing the primary target to escape before their arrival. Dr. Nightrick had the foresight to remove the automated squadrons from this facility prior to beginning his sojourn here, and thus I currently have no war machines at my disposal. I require your assistance.”
“Why would I help you? If I kill Nightrick, then I’ll never escape this place. They’ll execute me on the spot probably. I need him alive to get out of the factory. That’s why I’m here.”
“If you help me assassinate Dr. Nightrick, I will grant you your freedom. This facility is now fully under my control. You are of no interest to me and you are no threat to this installation. Proceed through the next two doors to your left and I will open his sleeping quarters for you. Kill him and you are free to leave,” replied Edison as he gestured down the corridor.
“Fine,” said Haley, checking how many rounds she had left. According to the readout on the back of the pistol, there were two shots remaining. She walked down the hall that she’d been instructed to, pausing again in front of the doctor’s room. “What are you waiting for?” she asked, eyeing the sealed doorway.
“It appears that Dr. Nightrick’s personal AI, Turing, is trying to block me from accessing the doctor’s quarters. I cannot open the door and I cannot see inside. He has been interfering with my plans the entire evening. Give me a moment. I should be able to override Turing. He is much weaker here than he would be in his own installation.”
She stood there for what felt like an eternity while the entities vied for control of the network. For the first time since leaving her cell, she noticed how sweaty her palms had become. She wiped her dominant hand on her shirt, trying to dry it before picking the handgun back up. The newly crowned assassin couldn’t afford to miss what might well be her only shot. Without warning, the door finally slid up, revealing an empty room.
“Edison,” she started. “Where the hell is he?”
“I am not sure. I still cannot see into the room,” he replied as she inched her way in, weapon at the ready. She looked around the room, hoping that wherever Nightrick was, he was unarmed.
“Good evening, Ms. Hall,” came the familiar voice of the doctor.
She spun around to face her victim, realizing too late that the sound had come from the second AI that had projected itself up onto one of the numerous hubs in the room. Turning from the green glow, she felt the hand on her shoulder early enough to react, but not effectively. Nightrick succeeded in getting both of his hands firmly onto her trigger arm before she could finish spinning to parry the coming blow. She tried to knee the doctor, but he caught her leg with his own before it was even halfway up. He twisted her arm to the breaking point, causing her to drop the pistol onto the rug. Upon seeing the weapon fall, he swung her as hard as he could against the wall, releasing. The girl slammed into the mirror that had been hung, bringing what was left of it down on her in a flurry of glass. She rolled, just dodging the doctor’s foot as he fired it down on her. Ignoring all of the small shards of glass now jutting out of her back, she pushed up onto her feet, ducking under Nightrick’s right slash. With the full force of her body, she lunged forward, slamming her foot into his chest. He made a gasping sound as he fell back hard against the dresser, landing on the ground not far from the fallen handgun. Haley threw herself at the pistol, getting to it before he could, but as she attempted to raise it, he was back on her again, ramming her into the wall with all of his strength. Her vision blurred briefly from the impact. She pulled back into focus with just enough time to feel herself being grasped by two arms and to watch Nightrick’s forehead drive into her own, knocking her unconscious.
Dr. Nightrick breathed heavily as his once and future captive slumped over onto the ground in his now battered apartment. He could feel a shooting pain in his chest where Haley had blasted him with her foot, and he smiled for a moment, rather enjoying his first good fight in years. Looking over at the woman laid flat on the ground, he couldn’t help but to admire her.
“Turing,” called Nightrick, wheezing a bit as he did. “I need you to lift the lockdown on the plant if you can. We
have to stop Edison.”
“Yes, Doctor,” replied the entity.
“This is what I get for not just executing Truman when I had the chance. Even in death he’s a spineless traitor,” said Nightrick, scooping up Haley’s fallen weapon before walking into his lab. “Two shots,” he said, consulting the handgun’s display. “My, she was optimistic.”
Approaching the sealed blast door that led out towards the second floor lobby, he heard the sirens deactivate. Moments later, the door slid open.
“Doctor, we have a serious problem,” came the AI from overhead. “Edison apparently falsified commands from this facility. He has diverted the entire military back towards the capital. Currently our force is engaging and destroying the CLF Coalition there.”
“God dammit!” screamed the doctor. “How?”
“He forged incoming and outgoing communications for the last few weeks. As the primary AI of this installation, he was able to effectively cut us off from the outside world without anyone ever knowing it.”
“We have to stall the invasion at all costs; we’re virtually defenseless right now. You were able to lift the lockdown at least?” asked Nightrick, eyeing the open blast door as Turing projected its visage up near him.
“Yes, Doctor, but not through any effort of my own. I have one hundred percent control of the Atria’s network. Edison has been shut down at his central hub on the first floor.”
Nightrick frowned. “By whom?”
“The Crusaders. It would appear that they initiated their attack while we were temporarily blind.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“PUSH!” screamed the distant-sounding shadow.
James blinked through the tears welling up in his eyes as he was barraged by the thick smoke bellowing out of the craters around him. While his goggles were supposed to protect his eyes from such noxious gases, one of the mortar shells that had gone off near him in the courtyard had been so close that it had cracked the glass and caused the inner vesicle to fill. As fellow soldiers continued running past him, he lay there on his back, trying to refocus his mind amidst the chaos and carnage. The young rebel pulled the damaged goggles up over his head, freeing the trapped gas. While the sensation of pain had been brief, he knew from the feeling that remained in his leg that he had been struck in one of blasts that had knocked him to the ground. He felt around until he pulled back a sticky crimson smear from across his left thigh. He pushed his index finger into the hole to gauge how deep the shrapnel had gone, and to his relief he only got past his fingernail before flesh and metal rose up to meet him. With a grunt, he rolled over onto his knee, trying to carefully test his wounded leg. The loud ringing sound continued blaring in his ear, making it hard to focus on much of anything. He kept his head as low as he could to avoid the bulk of the ever dancing smoke, but the dust being whipped up by the clash around him made breathing difficult regardless. Squinting through the tears that had been generated by the endless flow of soot, he peered out towards the factory. All he could make out were black combat boots running towards the compound and the thin light of tracers racing across the open battlefield, propelled by the railguns both sides were using to slaughter each other. He felt around on the scorched terrain for his rifle, finding satisfaction as his fingers brushed the metallic frame of the weapon. He pulled it close and put weight on his left leg, finding that the appendage wouldn’t give way. Sucking the last bit of free air that he could into his lungs, he stood up and ran headlong towards the factory, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg. The young rebel stumbled up against the outer wall of the Atria Plant, thankful to have made it across the dead land that persisted between the factory and the Crusaders’ deployment zone.