Edge Of The Future

by Andria Stone

“Ah, Capt. Jackson, now that you’re here we can begin. Please take a seat. I am Colonel Wayne Harben, Base Commander. I have a lot on my plate today, so I’ll get right to it. In regards to the situation which unfolded yesterday at CAMRI, this is the sitrep. You both have new orders. These come straight from Gen. Eli Dimitrios at TMD Headquarters. As of this morning, for your own safety, both of you are being transferred out of the CAMRI facility. You will not be returning. All your personal items have been collected and are in storage. Before leaving here, you will requalify with sidearms and H2H combat training. You will also each be fitted with an ultra-high tech geolocator chip. It is classified Top Secret and you’ll be monitored for your personal safety.”

  “And may I ask, General,” Mark said, “are we being sent to Aberdeen or San Diego?”

  “You’re being transferred to Lunar Base 3.”

  “The moon?” Mark stared at him in total disbelief.

  “Yes, Captain. Some people still call it that.”

  “But, sir, I have leave coming next week. My family is expecting me in Portland.”

  “All leaves have been canceled. This has officially been labeled Operation Pandora. We have a missing spy, dead terrorists, a dead Terran soldier, and non-human cyborg combatants. Luna is the safest place for you both. Most of your time here will be spent in training and being debriefed before you’re cleared for your new location. We own you, Warren, brain, body, and soul for the next five months and twenty-four days. If you’re not careful, we can always add a stop on Mars to your itinerary. And when your tour is up you can get in the back of the line, waiting for a ride home. I hope that’s clear enough for you.” Harben turned smartly, breezed out of the room, leaving Mark and Eva in stunned silence, under the watchful gaze of the doctor.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mark. Please, please forgive me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It’s all my fault…but aren’t you excited about going to Luna?”

  Chapter 4

  The instant Axel received a commlink message to report to Buchanan’s office, he became anxious, though he gave no indication of this on the outside. While he double-timed it to her building, he prepared himself for a denial of his request—but still hoped for the best.

  Buchanan sat at her desk, looking busy with something on her vid screen. The walls of her small office held dozens of citations, awards and personal pictures of her with other officers. A small bookcase with antique looking, leather bound editions occupied the corner.

  "Good morning, ma’am, Sgt. Von Radach, reporting as ordered." Axel held the salute.

  Buchanan returned it.

  “Well, Sergeant, it seems you have a Dutch uncle, who wears scrubs.” She smiled, her eyes crinkled. “I don’t know if this is what you wanted, but this is what you get.” She stood, a tall, fit, green-eyed brunette. “Sgt. Axel Von Radach, as of this date you have new orders per Operation Pandora, whereas you will function as a security attaché to Capt. Mark Warren, for the remainder of his tour, which will be on Lunar Base 3. As a soldier of the TMD, you will be acting as an agent under the command of Gen. Yates, Lunar Military Defense. You will provide personal security detail safeguards with two primary missions: physical protection of the designated protectee, and reporting any evidence of crimes related to the CAMRI incident.”

  Axel fell speechless. Unaware he had been holding his breath, he exhaled and came to grips with the realization he would soon become one of the elite. A tour on Luna. More importantly, if it meant payback for Scarlotti, he’d follow this scientist all the way to Mars. “Thank you, ma’am.” Axel gave her a genuine smile.

  “Take a seat, please, Sergeant.” She pointed to the only other chair. “Warren is recovering rapidly due to the nanite protocol. It is now your duty to see he requalifies with weapons and in hand-to-hand combat. We want him off Terra ASAP.

  “Plus, we have an additional detail to work out regarding these security issues. A female, Capt. Eva Jackson, is another scientist from CAMRI also being transferred to Luna. She will need a female attaché. Is there anyone you know of who possesses the skill-set required to be your counterpart?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do,” Axel responded. “Sergeant Kamryn Fleming, another one of. Monroe’s people.

  A deep, guttural sound erupted from behind Axel. He spun around to see Monroe standing in the background with a sour look on his face.

  “Oh, good morning, Lieutenant…sir,” Axel remarked, hoping it sounded sincere.

  “Sergeant,” the major said, dismissing the intrusion with a wave of her hand. “How long have you known her?”

  “A little over three years, ma’am. I believe she started out as DEA in Vancouver, then transferred to an undercover unit. I can personally attest to the fact she’s proficient in weapons and self-defense.”

  “Aha. And your relationship with her would be…strictly professional?”

  “Absolutely, ma’am. You need to meet her.”

  ***

  Axel found Mark, sitting in a timeworn overstuffed chair in the hospital’s institutional green Dayroom, looking miserable. There were no nurses anywhere. Must be a shift change. First time seeing him without any women hovering around, Axel had to admit he felt a bit envious. Because Mark was muscular without working at it. That and blond. The guy must exude the pheromones that acted as an aphrodisiac on women. The nurses must have been hiding his shirt because he wasn’t even wearing it—or the sling; only drawstring olive scrub pants.

  “Captain, I’m glad to see you’re up and around.”

  Mark looked up. “Why aren’t there any windows in this place?”

  “We’re underground.”

  “The whole base?”

  “Most of it.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s classified.”

  “Touché.”

  Axel tried getting back on point. “Guess you’ve gotten your orders, right?”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “Well, I’m going to make your day.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “Oh. Hell. No.” Mark looked incredulous.

  “Oh, hell, yes. I’m your wingman, Captain, till your tour ends.”

  “Same nightmare—different episode.” Mark sprawled more out of the chair than in and stared up at the ceiling, dejected.

  “And guess what? I’m in charge of making sure you qualify in close quarter combat and weapons. Training starts tomorrow. Zero seven hundred hours. When you went through basic, they should have given you a sidearm.”

  “No. I went through a basic officer leadership course. I’m a scientist. They didn’t issue a gun to me.”

  “Well, you’re getting one now. Can you shoot?”

  “Yes. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest. I hunted.”

  “Deer?”

  “No. Pheasants and ducks. Not Bambi.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Winchester and Remington, 12-guage.”

  “Old school.”

  “They require a greater degree of precision.”

  "Can you field strip a sidearm?"

  “Will there be a test?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. You don’t understand. I can’t go to the moon—Luna.”

  Axel detected a tone in the captain’s voice indicating a real problem. He’d heard that tone—dread—in soldier’s voices before.

  “All right, let’s find a quieter place to talk.” He helped Mark up, escorting him back to his hospital room. Mark slumped on the bed, while Axel took the chair. “For right now, how about we’re not Captain and Sergeant? Just Axel and Mark having a conversation.”

  With his left hand, Mark picked at the crease in his scrub pants. The base laundry pressed creases in everything except underwear. Mark’s words came out slow. “My brother, Eric, was a couple of years older than me. And fearless. Never afraid of anything. He enlisted in the Terran Space Command. An astro engineer. He volunteered for the Europa mission.” Mark paused. “They didn’t make
it there. And they didn’t make it home. Mom took it hard. Very hard. I’m not fearless. What if I go to Luna, and I don’t make it home, either? Too many ifs.”

  “Okay,” Axel said, nodding. “You told me why you don’t want to go. Well, this is why I have to go. You remember the soldier I dragged into your lab? His name was Scarlotti. Well, he didn’t make it. He died. Those terrorists blew up your facility, tried to kill you, and did kill him. So, you and Capt. Jackson are being sent to Luna to keep you safe. If they come for you again, Mark. I’ve got your back. I owe them.”

  Axel stood. “Wait a second…after everything you experienced yesterday, Mark, you didn’t think twice about helping your coworker. You saw a guy and ran after him. Tackled him. And fought him. In hindsight, it doesn’t seem like you thought about it much. I’ve seen soldiers who trained hard for combat—and then froze when it came time to step up. You didn’t freeze. So, I’m pretty sure Capt. Jackson thinks you’re fearless.”

  Axel placed a firm hand on Mark’s right shoulder. “Consider that why don’t you?”

  ***

  In a corner of the base’s cavernous, impressively outfitted fitness center, Buchanan stood flanked by her two sergeants dressed in black running togs, newly appointed as trainers. They faced the two captains, identically outfitted, and newly downgraded to trainees.

  “We’re under a time constraint here, Captains. Beginning this morning, if you are not sleeping, eating, or in the latrine, you will be engaged in physical activity, or one-on-one personal training, all designed to make you proficient in defending yourselves. For weapons training, you’ll begin practice on a holo simulator. Hopefully, you'll almost be an expert by the time you reach the live fire exercises at our indoor shooting range. Because of the nature of this operation, you will dispense with addressing each other by rank. Might as well get comfortable with each other on a first name basis. You’ll be eating and sleeping in close quarters soon enough.” Buchanan paused, listening to a comm message. “Carry on.” She spun, jogged off toward the nearest exit.

  Mark stared at the pair of sergeants in front of him. They looked like bookends. Standing side by side, Sgt. Kamryn Fleming was tall, exotic looking, almost Sgt. Von Radach’s female twin, except with unmistakable curves under her body-hugging togs. Both had dark, piercing eyes. She had chocolate brown hair, in what he surmised was the latest style popular with most female combat troops; buzz cut sides, spiky on top. Von Radach maintained his scruffy look with close-cropped hair and a short stubble beard. Apparently, male tactical assault NCOs couldn’t spare the time to shave.

  Their trainers started Mark and Eva out with stretches, then one full rotation through the circuit training course, followed by a timed one-mile jog around the inside track. Eva didn’t say a word, so Mark didn’t either. He would not be trumped by a woman half his size, regardless of his dislocated arm, broken hand, and a flesh wound. Although at the end, he was gasping and dripping with sweat.

  There were at least a hundred other people working out, however, no one acknowledged their presence. Leaving him to wonder if they had been marked with a ‘do not disturb’ sign. Maybe this was normal, or not. Either way, it felt disconcerting.

  Next came an hour in the holo simulator for weapons training. Mark used his left hand, privately vowing to become ambidextrous.

  When they broke for lunch, Mark and Eva felt too exhausted to eat, while their trainers, the Evil Twins, polished off the caloric intake of two starving teenagers.

  Back in the gym, Fleming took the lead. “The next facet of your training is comprised of moves that are down and dirty. They are do or die moves. These are the dirtiest and most effective H2H combat moves that will save your lives.” Their afternoon was spent with instructions in elbow strikes, eye gouging, knee strikes, groin stomps, throat punches, collar grab choke holds, back kicks to wherever, and lastly—the fingers in the mouth, while not being bitten.

  The end of their first day came none too soon. Fleming addressed them both. “Today was to get you limbered up. Your real training starts tomorrow. Here. Zero seven hundred hours. I suggest you eat a hearty meal and hydrate sufficiently. If not—tomorrow will not go well for you—and you will not be excused from class because you didn’t follow these instructions. Warren, please report to Maj. Torance on your way out. If your cast is removed this evening, I’m told he will be clearing you for full H2H combat training in the morning.”

  Von Radach had a devious gleam in his eyes, and a smug grin on his face. Axel had allowed the new sergeant to take the lead, while he’d been helpful, even encouraging to Eva today. Mark decided they were playing the “Good sergeant/Bad sergeant” routine. Tomorrow they would probably reverse roles.

  “I feel ready to drop—except energized, too! You know what I mean?” Eva’s big smile lit up her pretty, bronze face. “I’m going to grab a quick shower and head to the dining hall. Do you want to meet me there?”

  “You go ahead, Eva. I need to see about my cast.” Exhausted, Mark wandered the maze of corridors. He had to ask for directions twice. He eventually found Torance’s office. The doctor wasn’t there, but his schedule was posted outside on the wall. Mark set out again, and ran smack into him a few minutes later.

  “Well, Captain, it’s good to see you up and around. I hear you started PT today. Follow me. Let’s take a scan of your hand. See how it’s doing.” The doctor led him into a small, industrial, green exam room smelling of cleaning agents. He spent several moments passing a small, handheld scanner around Mark’s translucent cast, pronounced him healed, and removed it. Mark flexed his fingers, testing the nanite’s work.

  “I have a few more things for you, too. First, where do you want this?” The doctor held an injector.

  “What is it?”

  “Vaccinations for almost everything. Can’t have you spreading Terran germs up in space.”

  “Well, I sure don’t want it in my butt.”

  “Actually, that’s the best place. Don’t be a baby.”

  Mark groaned, hooked his thumbs in the back of his pants, and bared his bottom.

  The doctor injected Mark with a cocktail of biomeds, one shot in each gluteus maximus.

  “Okay, now for your geolocator. These were specifically designed for you and Capt. Jackson. Your DNA has been incorporated in them, so they can’t be copied or duplicated—again for your protection.” He popped the tiny silver device out of its blister pack, loaded it into the injector, and shot it directly through the skin behind Mark’s right ear lobe.

  It stung like hell. Mark rubbed it gingerly. “I wish I hadn’t found you.”

  The doctor grinned. “We have an excellent cyber unit here. They’ll be monitoring you twenty-four/seven while you’re off-world. Don’t feel like you’re being singled out. It’s standard operating procedure. Terran military’s done this many times before with high-value protectees—and operatives.”

  “Does this happen often?” Mark resented being ‘chipped’ and watched like a prisoner while he was forcibly remanded to a big rock 240,000 miles above the planet of his birth.

  “Well, we don’t yet have world peace,” the doctor lamented, “or universal justice, so we do what we can to move toward the betterment of humankind.”

  “So, yes. It happens often.” Mark shook his head. “Have you ever been to Luna, Major?”

  “Yes, a couple of years ago. I did a six-month rotation.”

  “Your impression?”

  “I’ve lived on this planet far too long to be comfortable off-world.”

  “I hoped for a more objective opinion.”

  “It wouldn’t be fair to influence your perceptions.”

  “You just did.”

  The doctor shrugged, turned away.

  Mark switched to a different topic. “Does anyone know why the cyborg was in Capt. Jackson’s apartment? It must have been searching for something. It has to be connected to what happened earlier at CAMRI and Dr. Coulter, right? Have they found her? Have they found—it?
”

  “That part of the operation is still being investigated. It’s coming together. We don’t have all the pieces. My involvement is mainly related to the injuries and fatalities. You’ll both be briefed before you leave for Luna.” The doctor passed the scanner over Mark’s hand again, his shoulder, and side wound. He nodded, admiring the nanite’s recuperative properties.

  “You’re better than new. One hundred and ten percent. I’ll forward your release for H2H combat to Maj. Buchanan.” The doctor’s pale blue eyes shone as he added, “Say, I heard Sgt. Fleming’s part of the team now. She’s a peach, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, a real ‘class A’ peach.”

  ***

  Mark heaped his plate with protein, carbs, a milk, a juice, plus two large glasses of water. He went back for seconds. Flushing the meds and nanites out of his system, getting back to feeling healthy again became his number one priority. He tried, but couldn’t remember if he’d ever been ordered to do something he didn’t want to do. Maybe that’s why he was having such a hard time now. He was intelligent, resourceful, and clever. He’d find a way to get through this the best way possible.

  Eva spotted him in the dining hall. “Oh, Mark, I’m glad I found you. We have new quarters. They’re not far from the fitness center. Real convenient. Not as nice as CAMRI, but not too bad. Are you ready? Do you want to go see them?”

  He followed her to the new room, agreeing it was no-frills acceptable. A single bed that housed storage compartments underneath, vid screen built into the opposite wall over a fold-out desktop with an integrated keypad, a double-wide locker with bottom storage, plus a small private bath. It would do for a few days. The clothes were a nice touch. Neat piles of olive drab underwear, black running togs lay on his bed, with the correct size boots, three uniforms in the locker. No name or rank on the uniforms—he must be going incognito. Were Eva’s the same?

  Mark showered, then decided to hit the sack early. He fell asleep thinking of his family. He needed to let them know his leave had been canceled. Aside from getting up to pee twice, he slept like he was in a coma. The best night’s sleep he’d had in a while.