The Genetic Imerative

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The Genetic Imerative Page 20

by P. Joseph Cherubino


  She could smell the ozone in the room, but none of the warriors activated their energy sheaths. Nina hoped no one did. There would be no chance of stopping the violence once the Warriors suited up. The fact that the attempted arrest took place without raised armor told Nina she had a chance to restore reason.

  “This is wrong!” Nina shouted, “Warrior attacking warrior! Who gave this order?”

  “General Olthan,” the ranking officer stepped forward and dropped the black hood of her battle robe to reveal a misshapen, battle-scarred face.

  “And you will come with me first, followed by the rest of these cowards,” the ranking officer said with a sneer.

  Nina felt a surge behind her, and she swung her staff out to the right to hold it back.

  “No!” Nina shouted, buying a pause. “There are no cowards here, and I will come with you.

  But understand that if you follow your orders completely right now, some of us will not leave here alive.”

  “You threaten me?” the officer asked with a grin that displayed sharp white teeth.

  The look on that face gave Nina pause. This one was definitely the right Advocate for the job, Nina thought. The officer’s motions were sharp and strong and told Nina a lot about the hard body beneath the relaxed robes. The officer moved with the unmistakable confidence of a Warrior who did not lose a fight.

  “No. I only tell you the truth,” Nina replied, “The cause of violence here is an insane order. Who told you to attack your sisters?”

  “I see no sisters here, only traitors,” the officer spat.

  The response produced gasps of surprise from several soldiers who reacted as if slapped. Nina did not believe Advocates could regard one another this way.

  The sound of thudding footsteps rumbled down the sleeping chamber hallway. General Zebrak flowed into the room like a heavy tide. Beside her strode Cordelia and the soldier Tove. The soldiers had taken the time to dress in formal battle robes. The General stood at Nina’s right side and the other two soldiers formed rear flanks.

  “Your orders are cancelled. Take your troop and go home,” Zebrak boomed.

  Her voice seemed to shake the living room chamber.

  “I don’t take orders from cowards and deserters,” the officer said, taking another step forward. Her eyes did not leave Nina’s

  “Cowards? Which soldiers attacked unarmed Advocates under camouflage cloaks?” Cordelia demanded.

  Tove shifted her feet nearing a combat stance and the movement spread like a wave around the room. They were close to explosion.

  “Stop this!” Nina shouted, “This is ridiculous! There are no traitors here!

  Every last soldier here has seen hard service. You know this is true! Nobody escapes combat,” Nina paused, taking the time to look at the wounded Tove, then back to the scarred face of the ranking officer.

  “Look around you and come to your senses,” Nina continued. “We have wounded here, and we’re arguing like young trainees over a storm field game.”

  Nina had lost track of Chanise, but now saw her and another soldier had gathered up the four who were injured during the brief skirmish. Nina pointed at the wounded with the tip of her captured staff.

  “Are these the orders you really want to follow?” Nina asked.

  Nina took a slow step forward and set the staff on the floor at the officer’s feet.

  “I will come with you. You can fulfill your orders by securing a promise from these soldiers that they will also report to the tribunal under mutual terms. There is no need for applying force that will make us all lose.

  That would be the honorable thing to do. The tribunal has not met yet, so there is no judgment against anyone here. That means there are no ‘traitors’ here.”

  The officer lowered her staff and eased her posture. Muscles relaxed around the room, and a murmur went through the crowd.

  General Zebrak spoke then.

  “You can inform General Olthan that I am here. I will lead this group to the Central District. We will wait there for Olthan’s tribunal. These soldiers will be my responsibility. They will not be in your custody.”

  The Intelligence Division officer’s jaw clenched as she pondered her decision. The old General allowed her to save face. She could leave with this treacherous Captain and report that she was given an order of equal standing by a General of the same grade as Olthan. The officer could back away from this fight with her pride intact and her primary objective achieved. The Captain in question may be a criminal, the officer thought, but she had a point. There was no honor in fighting fellow Advocates. Nina stepped forward. The Commander moved to take her arm and Zebrak halted her with a single look and a half step in her direction.

  Nina stepped forward and stood nearly touching toes with the officer.

  “Thank you,” Nina said, and moved out onto the spiral chamber walkway surrounded by a dozen Intelligence Division soldiers.

  Chapter 13: Earth, Maryland, Orientation

  Lieutenant Arnold Triska woke at zero six hundred hours in the strange vintage room with dawn light just beginning to trickle through thin curtains. The house had no air conditioning, but wasn’t all that hot even on the second floor. He woke quickly after what he guessed was four hours of sleep. It was more like a nap. He stood, stretched his arms above his head, bent down to touch his toes then slowly stood to stretch again. He knocked out thirty pushups to get his heart pumping, and then splashed some cold water on his face in the basin by the door. The little sink was a great feature of the small room. He’d already showered the night before, so he threw on a fresh Army athletic uniform and made his way downstairs.

  He was hoping for at least fresh coffee, but the kitchen was vacant and just beginning to take on daylight. He found the light switch and began his hunt for coffee. He started at the pantry by the living room doorway and was halfway around the kitchen before Mike came to the rescue. The coffee was on the other side of the kitchen. They quickly assembled the large coffee pot that looked like it could hold about three liters.

  “Lieutenant Triska, I have no idea how much to put in but it will be good and strong,” Mike announced as he eyeballed the pouring of grounds into the filter basket.

  Sergeant Nichols appeared, said a quick good morning, and breezed through the kitchen to start a run through the woods.

  “I’m not that ambitious,” Mike confessed, watching Sergeant Nichols finish stretching before his run.

  While Nichols was on his way into the woods, Lieutenant Conteh was on her way out. She jogged out of the woods at a moderate clip and did a slow lap around the house to cool down. A few minutes later, the front door opened and footsteps thudded on the stairs. Mike and Arnold sat watching the sunrise through the trees as they sat vigil over the coffee.

  “Wow! You were right, this is like coffee syrup,” Arnold said.

  His first sip immediately motivated him to hunt for sugar and creamer. The fridge was stocked with fresh half-and-half. There was also a bowl of fresh cut fruit, deli meat, bread and condiments. These items were not there last night. Someone went shopping. Mike found some sugar, and they placed it with the half-and-half by the coffee pot for the others.

  Sitting at the table with their mugs, Mike said, “I talked to Lieutenant Conteh this morning.

  Both Sergeant Nichols, Lieutenant Conteh and I will take you through orientation, and that’s happening today. Lt. Conteh will give us the details, but something big is coming, so that doesn’t leave us much time.”

  “Understood,” Arnold said gravely. Mike gave him a strange smile that seemed to say ‘maybe not.’

  Sergeant Skeates grabbed a couple frozen breakfast sandwiches from the freezer and the two microwaved their breakfast. They both had a small bowl of fruit, threw their dishes in the dishwasher and parted ways. Arnold went back to his room and put on his Army fatigues in preparation for his work day. He got back down to the kitchen around seven thirty and found Skeates, Otema and Nichols standing there. Now that every
one was in uniform, formal salutes went around the room.

  Some officers wielded their authority through the physical presence they acquired or were born with. They used attributes like height, weight, a mean or stern face or a loud voice to transmit that authority. Others relied strictly on their position, standing more on protocol and expected reaction. Officers like this supported their authority with detailed knowledge and petty exercise of even the most obscure regulation.

  First Lieutenant Otema Conteh dispensed her authority with unwavering, hard-earned confidence and the abundant evidence of extreme proficiency. She was sharp. She took ownership of a scene with a sense of purpose and her command of a personal economy that wasted neither words nor motion. When she was present, she knew, it and everyone else knew it also. She wasn’t brash. She wasn’t loud. She didn’t shout or glare or menace. She was simply deadly serious when work needed to happen. It was usually obvious to even to soldiers of moderate intelligence that she was an officer who got things done. Her ready answers simply made such obvious sense to her subordinates that they followed her orders easily. It was entirely comfortable to obey orders that simply made sense. Her delivery made every order conform to reason, even those that seemed otherwise.

  With the formal greetings out of the way, Lieutenant Conteh began.

  “As you all know, I called a formal meeting for zero nine hundred. Consider this briefing right now a preliminary.

  Sergeant Nichols and I did a quick check of the inner perimeter this morning. All sensors are in place and ready for diagnostic. I brought in some supplies last night, but we have incoming dignitaries.

  Support team will trickle in. We could use a volunteer for another grocery run.”

  Mike raised his hand briefly, to say ‘that’s me’.

  “Excellent,” Conteh continued. “It will be crowded here soon, so don’t be picky. You buy it, it will be used.

  Local police will close the access road around four this afternoon. Unit elements should arrive around that time and establish proper security.

  Dignitaries are due in around midnight. You all need to think about rest. I need you on your game, so any time between now and four this afternoon will be your opportunity to grab some rack time.

  We will likely be on twenty-four hour shifts from now through the foreseeable future. Questions?”

  There were none. Lieutenant Conteh dismissed them, but called Arnold aside.

  “Again, your orientation to the Unit is ‘on the fly’,” Conteh said, “so I should let you know that this station is multipurpose.

  Right now it’s a bivouac, so we won’t stand on much formality until the dignitaries arrive. I myself plan to grab some rack time before or after our meeting, so don’t be surprised if the couches are occupied.

  I suggest you rest up. You’re going to need it.”

  Again, she gave the flash of a smile that caused Arnold a quickened pulse.

  “Understood,” Arnold replied. They parted ways.

  Arnold took the rest of that morning before the meeting to walk through the woods. He found no evidence of the ‘sensors’ Otema mentioned. He thought they must be well concealed. The woods were mostly pine, with the pleasant appearance of some mature oak and maple trees here and there. Large carpets of fern covered the ground in many places. The trail made a meandering loop around the clearing and he ended up back at the trailhead a little before zero nine hundred.

  He found them all in the kitchen again. It seemed to be a comfortable meeting place. The morning sun bounced brightly from the whitewashed cabinets and walls.

  “Well, we’re all here, so we might as well begin early,” Lieutenant Conteh said.

  She motioned with her hand to invite them to the table. Lieutenant Conteh sat last at the table’s head.

  “Lieutenant Triska,” Conteh said, “your orientation will begin immediately following this meeting. So the details here will become clearer to you afterward.

  Gentlemen, yesterday we had an unscheduled incursion at White Sands, announced only four days prior to that event. This incursion produced a major incident that is now in hand, but incident protocol is still in play.

  Unit leadership has called a major staff meeting for tonight. This is the reason we are all here.

  There will be two dignitaries here tonight, so we will operate under the highest security protocol. We have DC Metro airspace on heightened alert, and our own AWACS cordon. Local private airports for twenty miles are closed for the next two days.

  This does give us some exposure, but the cover is that there is a diplomatic mission inbound—not too far from the truth. Media is not aware. Looks just like another routine security measure in Washington, DC.

  As noted before, local access road will close at four, at which time, Unit Security will take over, so that means our team.”

  Conteh turned to her sergeants.

  “Sergeants Nichols and Skeates,” Lieutenant Conteh continued, “that means us. Lieutenant Triska, your orders will likely come from General Breslin when he arrives.

  Your orientation may take the rest of the morning. I welcome your assistance between now and this evening.

  But this brings us to the reason for this staff meeting. General Breslin has authorized me to disclose that there is a major strategic shift in motion. This change will alter the current disposition of the Unit and possibly the Program itself.”

  Otema paused. Arnold had no idea what this meant, but the Sergeants certainly did. Their faces looked grim.

  Lieutenant Conteh Continued, “These are interesting times, Gentlemen. If there are no questions, let’s go right to Lieutenant Triska’s orientation.”

  The two Sergeants were silent and looked very serious. Arnold simply didn’t know what to ask.

  The three sat for a moment and looked at Arnold. He got the vague sense that the stares were evidence of some kind of assessment. Lieutenant Conteh seemed most appraising of all.

  “I think the best way to explain something is to show rather than tell,” Conteh said. “Sergeant Nichols, get the shotgun from the trunk of my vehicle and bring it to the back yard.”

  She handed Sergeant Nichols her car keys. Conteh stood and drew from her hip pocket an object that looked like a glass coffee stir about the length of her finger and around ten millimeters in diameter.

  “Follow me,” Conteh said as she stepped over to the stove.

  She lit the stove and held the object over the flame for a good thirty seconds. She held it up where Arnold could see it, then pressed its length into the palm of her opposite hand. Arnold jumped a bit, expecting to see smoke and to smell burning flesh. Nothing happened. She held the object out to Arnold.

  “Take it,” she said. Arnold took the it.

  The object was cool in his hand and heavy. He guessed it weighed half a kilo, which was shocking for such a small object. He held it up to the light and looked through it. Although it was round, there was very little refraction. Looking at it from a close angle, it was hard to tell the object was round at all. Lieutenant Conteh held her hand out and Arnold gave her the object. She then led them into the back yard, where Sergeant Nichols stood with the shotgun.

  “This will be a bit dramatic, but will serve our purposes perfectly,” Conteh said.

  She tossed the object in the grass a few paces from them, said, “Sergeant Nichols, two rounds please.”

  Sergeant Nichols racked a shell into the shotgun, fired, pumped, and shot again directly at the object. Grass and dirt sprayed around the object but it remained exactly where Conteh had thrown it.

  “Did you miss?” Arnold asked.

  Sergeant Nichols looked a bit offended but shook his head in a definite ‘no.’

  “See for yourself, Lieutenant,” Conteh said. Arnold walked up to the object.

  He could clearly see where the shot made divots in the grass surrounding the object. The transparent cylinder even had a small divot beneath it. In fact, the object spanned that divot like a bridge. Arnold pi
cked it up. It was completely intact.

  “Huh …” Arnold said, holding the strange thing up to the sun. It was completely unblemished and cool to the touch. It was perfectly smooth.

  “What kind of shot was that,” Arnold asked.

  “Standard military load,” Sergeant Nichols replied. Arnold realized there was no way the object could have escaped the shot pellets.

  “Interesting. Is this self-healing material? Some kind of nano-tech?” Arnold asked with great interest.

  “Not quite,” Lieutenant Conteh replied,

  She held her hand out once again. Arnold gave her the object. She held the thing in her left hand, reached into her pocket with her right, and produced a small, matte-black stone. Conteh pinched the stone between her thumb and forefinger and closed her eyes. She slowly released her grip on the object with her eyes still closed. The object did not fall.

  Arnold laughed.

  “Cool trick!” Arnold exclaimed, forgetting himself for a moment.

  He asked himself when the orientation would begin. Arnold reached out to grab the object and it did not move. There was no string nor anything else to explain why the object felt as if it were attached to a solid brick wall. The thing did not move at all. A chill ran down his spine. This is getting weird, he thought. He let go and stepped back.

  “Back up ten paces and two more rounds please, Sergeant Nichols,” Conteh ordered.

  They walked back towards the house a safe distance and faced the woods. Sergeant Nichols pumped another shell into the shotgun and then ran two more rounds through it. Arnold happened to blink on the second round and managed to see a little black puff as the shot clearly contacted the object and disintegrated.

  Lieutenant Conteh led them back to the object. Arnold made circles around it. He poked it with his finger. He brought his eye close to it and looked down its length and down either end. He ran his hand around it repeatedly until he was satisfied that he was indeed completely perplexed.

 

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