Edge Of The Future

by Andria Stone

  The blaring sound of an emergency alarm began filtering through the fog in his mind. His hearing was returning. Human screams grew in intensity. He glanced around to see the two cybers plus Kamryn’s armored guard, all running at him with guns drawn.

  A second shock grenade rolled straight for them. The armored guard shot a stream of foam at the orb, rendering it inert.

  Two new male figures in pale green scrubs appeared in the hall from a doorway about thirty feet beyond the coffee machine. They advanced in a deliberate fashion. No emotions registered on their faces. They were large. They were cyborgs.

  In close combat, your enemy’s face was a prime target. Axel aimed at the eyes of the cyborg on his left, fired both his pulse weapon and handgun. He managed to destroy one eye. After a momentary stumble, the damned thing kept on coming.

  Mark, now conscious, had risen to stand beside Axel, shooting at the eyes of the cyborg on the right.

  As their enemies approached, one tossed a couple more shock grenades down the corridor toward the armored guard. The one advancing on Axel flung a couple more at him.

  “Incoming.” Axel dove on top of the major, who had remained unconsciousness. On the floor, an acrid smell filled the air, stinging Axel’s nose, eyes, and throat. It was the last thing he recalled.

  ***

  Mark kept firing at both oncoming cyborgs until his pulse weapon died. He’d counted the shots fired from his handgun and saved the last one until the cyborg on the right was close enough to spit on. He shot it in the right eye. It stumbled. For a brief moment, Mark thought it would fall on them. It corrected, grabbed him by the collar bone, turned and ran to the nearest stairwell, dragging him along.

  As Mark struggled to get free, the cyborg’s grasp tightened like a vice. He felt pain searing through his nervous system. The cyborg hefted Mark over his shoulder while it descended the stairwell, taking multiple steps at a time. The jostling made it hard to catch his breath. He felt close to passing out.

  Everything stopped. The cyborg flopped him on a hover gurney, jabbed a syringe into his thigh and covered him from head to toe with a sheet. His pain melted away. He sensed the movement of being loaded into a conveyance, accompanied by the sounds of traffic.

  When his mind cleared, Axel was his first thought, Torance his second. Mark hadn’t seen what happened to either of them. There had been two cyborgs. If one had come for him, had the other one captured Axel? Could he be here, too?

  He tried to move the sheet away from his eyes. He couldn’t. He didn’t remember being restrained. What if the injection had been drugs—laced with a paralytic, or some sort of neuromuscular blocking agent? He tried to make a noise. Nothing more than a grunt escaped his lips. He kept trying until he uttered a hoarse whisper resembling “azo.” Hopeless. He wouldn't be talking until the drugs wore off.

  Again, everything stopped. He heard sounds of feet moving, followed by a feeling of weightlessness, which meant they were transferring him…to what? A shuttle door slid open. Oh, crap. He knew that noise. He was going airborne. Damn, damn, damn. They were transporting him to another location. On Terra? Or into space?

  Something snagged the sheet, pulling it away from his face. He caught a glimpse of another gurney being carried into the shuttle. A familiar arm dangled off the side—Axel!

  His friend’s words rang in his ears. “…abducting two people means one will be tortured and used to coerce the other—guess who gets mutilated.”

  No. He would not allow that to happen. He’d negotiate, bargain, cajole, lie, hell, he’d do anything to save Axel. Except. Even if he gave Coulter all his classified formulas for augmented human cyborgs—past, present, and future—she’d never let him go free. No. She’d turn him into one of her neural implanted marionettes. Or just kill him. Axel, too.

  Something had been bothering him. From the recesses of his drugged mind, it dawned on Mark these cyborgs hadn’t said a single word since they’d left the hospital. They didn’t converse. The first one at CAMRI hadn’t spoken. His father’s attacker hadn’t either. Maybe they couldn’t.

  No wonder she wanted augmented humans.

  How could he best use this information against Coulter? He needed to devise a plan before they arrived at their destination. Wherever that was.

  ***

  The hospital’s ER doctor had bandaged a cut on Torance’s forehead, checked his vital signs, pronounced him alive— and an ass. The hospital physician left Kamryn’s room cursing the TMD, muttering that doctors made the worst patients.

  The major rolled up his sleeve and self-injected a dose of SP-27. His color returned, as did the rest of his mental facilities, before reporting live on vid to Dimitrios.

  Flanked by the cybers, Torance stood, covered in a fine yellow power residue from the grenades, while relating the firefight, and abduction. He omitted the part about being unconscious. “We were prepping Sgt. Fleming for transport back to base, when two enemy cyborgs overpowered us with multiple shock grenades. Within seconds, they’d kidnapped Warren and Von Radach.

  “The cybers rushed to activate the embedded geolocator chips in our men. Hospital surveillance showed the cyborgs loading them into a hearse, which we tracked to a private tarmac. They’ve been airborne for sixteen minutes. We’re transmitting their geosat data to you now. The enemy shuttle’s exact destination is unknown. As you can see, its current heading is straight for Houston. If Coulter escaped our net, she may also be on that shuttle, or maybe she’s already there.

  “All TMD in Portland are hereby ordered back to your home base before something else happens. We’ll be monitoring both men’s geosat locations from HQ. I’m mobilizing a battalion out of the Sixth TMD in San Antonio as we speak. Lieutenant Colonel Maeve Sorayne will be commanding. She’ll get the job done and bring our people home—even if she has to level that damned BioKlon plant to do it.” Perspiration beaded on the general’s forehead as he tugged at his uniform collar.

  “Sir, if I may…Coulter couldn’t have known about the tracking devices; otherwise, they would’ve been removed. If they go offline, she’s found them, which puts our men in mortal danger.

  “Also, we have reason to believe there’s a large cache of highly combustible biochemicals in this facility. You can confirm it by checking shipments received from specific manufacturers.

  “And, need I remind you, they produce the neural implants Coulter’s so fond of using to control her victims. It would be insane to think a good percentage of those employees didn’t have them, wouldn’t you say?”

  The general’s face glistened. His meaty fingers curled into tight fists. “If there’s any more information you wish to share, major, a memo with bullet points would be good.”

  “Sir, we’ve been working on this since CAMRI was attacked and have a plethora of data Sorayne might find useful. Once she’s up to speed, have her contact me if she has questions.”

  “Fine. Now if you’ll permit me—Dimitrios out.”

  Torrance turned to Ohashi. “Show me this Sorayne.”

  She pressed keys, bringing up a head to toe image of a tall, striking woman of indeterminate age, with short spiky platinum hair.

  “Magnify.”

  Ohashi enlarged the face by a factor of five.

  Under his breath, Torance murmured, “One green eye. One blue eye.”

  “Oh, yeah, look at that.”

  “I recognize her. Australia. Six years ago. The APPNEX Campaign. She died on my table. Twice. Extensive damage. She underwent augmentation. She’s a…cyborg.

  “Really? First one I’ve seen. That’s what Warren designs, isn’t it? Augmentation? For humans, I mean.”

  “He does, indeed.”

  “Do you think she’ll remember you?”

  “Without a doubt.” Torance recalled the miserable conditions of the CSH, Combat Surgical Hospital in the middle of Australia, where he’d had to amputate what remained of her left leg and left arm. Sorayne opted for augmentation over prosthetics. At the time, a hero
ic choice for a female officer. And now…she was a colonel, who had garnered praise from Dimitrios.

  If she knew of Warren’s research, it might give her impetus to make sure he came out of this alive.

  “Major, our ride’s here.”

  Torance turned. “You ladies ready to get the hell out of Portland?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  "All right soldier,” he motioned to the armored guard. “Let’s take my patient home.”

  They placed Kamryn on the hover gurney, carried her through the halls, then up the elevator to the roof. Their shuttle waited, hatch open, and full of Nazarova’s armored troops. It was a tight fit, but the craft lifted off with everyone aboard.

  When the ship touched down, the door swung open to the gray frigid air of their North Dakota tarmac. Harben stood in front of the medics, who waited to offload Kamryn’s gurney. After the formalities, both cybers accompanied the officers back to the colonel's office, where Buchanan joined them for a full debriefing.

  Afterward, Torance singled him out. “Sir, how is Capt. Jackson doing?”

  “Not well. I’m glad you’re back. Maybe your presence—and Fleming’s—will be what she needs right now.” As Harben eased into his chair, a sadness crept into his voice. “This never should have happened. These scientists enlisted in the military to do research for the good of humanity. They are soldiers in the strictest sense of the word. They are not combat troops and as such were never supposed to be in harm’s way. Not only have they been attacked, but members of their families have been maimed, and now one is dead. All because of a fat little megalomaniac who’s not afraid of getting her hands dirty.” Now he cupped his head. “Give me a straight up battle and boot me to the front lines. I’d welcome that—to this—dealing with the misery brought on by greed and corruption.”

  He could see Harben was distressed. “Sir, we may have more of a tactical advantage than you’re aware of.”

  He gestured for Torance to sit. “Well, out with it. I’m ready for some good news.”

  “I know the commanding officer Dimitrios is sending to retrieve our people.” He proceeded to explain their history, which brought raised eyebrows, with a glimmer of hope to Harben’s face. “Also, there’s an approaching thunderstorm. Lightning is about to strike the Houston area at any moment.” Torance intimated a TMD shuttle might be able to assist in the electrostatic fireworks. It could deliver pinpoint damage to the BioKlon plant, forcing the evacuation of all personnel—into a trap laid by Colonel Sorayne.

  Hope had spread across Harben’s face. He commed his assistant in the anteroom. “Keller, get Dimitrios on the vid for me. We have new Intel.”

  Chapter 20

  Mark awoke in a panic, his mind in a state of confusion and his heart beating like a jackhammer. He scanned the dark surroundings. Axel’s limp arm hung from beneath his sheet.

  Oh, thank god they were still together. But where were they? Why hadn’t Axel regained consciousness? Had he been given a heavier dose or different drugs altogether?

  Mark tried to move his hands. He could, although his fine motor skills were sluggish. He started moving his extremities to increase circulation and blood flow to the brain for better concentration.

  He tried to talk. “Axel.” Yes—at least his vocal chords worked. Although it brought no response from his friend.

  A slight vibration swayed him for a second. Oh, shit. If they were in the shuttle, maybe they had landed. Where? In Houston?

  Faraway voices grew louder. His arm worked enough to drag the sheet back over his face. He lay motionless, forcing himself into a calm state with shallow breathing.

  The hatch swung open.

  “You get the one on the right,” a voice said. “We’ll get the other one.”

  Mark felt his gurney being moved.

  “How much farther? This one weighs a ton.”

  “D level, Lab 438. This way. We need to take the elevator.”

  Mark committed that information to memory. D level might equate to a fourth floor. Lab 438 implied it was one damned big place.

  He came to rest on some sort of surface. The footsteps disappeared. Mark pulled the sheet away from one eye. He saw Axel. They were each laying on island workstations in a large dark lab. Alone? Maybe. A lab meant experiments. Or in Axel’s mind, torture.

  Should he try to wake up Axel? Should they escape now, or wait? No. Axel had drummed it into him.

  I must survive at all costs. Kill or be killed.

  Mark eased off the island, making sure he could walk before moving toward Axel. After checking for a pulse, he heaved a sigh of relief. “Wake up Sleeping Beauty.”

  On command, Axel opened his eyes. He winked at Mark and flashed a big toothy smile.

  “How long have you been awake?” Mark searched the cabinets for items to stuff under the sheets.

  “Long enough to hear somebody call me heavy.” Axel followed his lead.

  “He was just teasing—you’re as light as a feather.” Mark piled lots of supplies on the islands, padded them with hand towels then draped sheets over the decoy shapes.

  “You know HQ’s been tracking us, right?” Alex pointed to his neck.

  “Yeah, I remembered about the chips. It doesn’t help us in here. Do you want to be turned into an experiment, or tortured?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Well, then it’s time to go.”

  On the way out, Axel pulled the knife out of his left boot and slid it in his belt. He pointed to Mark’s boot.

  Mark withdrew the ceramic knife from his boot, embarrassed he hadn’t remembered Axel giving it to him.

  Axel darted to a dark corner, grabbed a broom and snapped the handle in half over his knee. “Baton—comes in handy.” He opened the door, peered out, checking for foot traffic.

  “Go left,” Mark whispered.

  Axel slid out, staying close to the wall.

  As Mark followed, he could see they were on a walkway with a metal railing as the only barrier to falling four stories below. The men scurried along the passageway to the stairwell exit. Inside, they paused for a moment.

  “Were you awake all the way up here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wasn’t. Which way do we turn at the bottom?”

  “Keep turning left,” Mark said, “until we’re out.”

  “Then which way?

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t piloting the shuttle.”

  “We were on a shuttle?”

  Exasperated, Mark turned to Axel, ready to hurl some choice words, just as an enormous clap of thunder exploded overhead. “Rain?”

  “And lots of lightning.” Axel had a glint in his eyes that matched the wicked grin on his face.

  While hurrying down three flights of stairs, Axel enlightened Mark about the weather forecast and the favor Boss Lady would be repaying. His plans hadn’t counted on him being inside the building when it happened.

  At the bottom, they hesitated. Thunder rumble overhead, followed by the sharp, loud cracking noises of lightning.

  “Should we wait in here, or make a run for it?”

  Axel looked around. “This is a cement stairwell. We should be safe. If we get company, neutralize them and follow me.” He looked straight at Mark. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Mark said without any hesitation. “I’ve got your back.”

  They stood in silence behind the door to the ground floor, listening to the thunder clapping all around the building.

  “Axel…”

  “Don’t tell me you have to pee.”

  “Why bring us all the way here, then leave us up there alone?”

  “That bothers me, too.”

  “Coulter’s planning has been meticulous—until now.”

  “Shit happens. Or maybe we’re finally making some headway.”

  “I don’t—”

  Thunder crashed, drowning out Mark’s voice. Multiple electrostatic impulses filled the air with the smell of ozone and burnt hair. A few seconds
later, the door burst open.

  A group of six or eight men invaded their hiding place.

  Axel sprang into action using surprise to overwhelm them. His makeshift baton became a club to render them unconscious and his knife to disable them.

  Trying to evade Axel, one fat man made the mistake of coming at Mark instead. He slashed at the fat man. Blood spurted from the cut.

  The fat man staggered backward.

  Mark rammed the heel of his left palm into the fat man’s nose while slashing across his chest with the blade.

  The fat man went down bleeding, while another taller one circled around Mark trying to dodge his knife.

  Mark swerved just in time to see him fire a gun. He ducked, threw the knife, which landed up to the hilt in the tall man’s stomach.

  The tall man dropped the gun as he crumbled to the ground.

  Mark dove for the weapon, snatched it midair, turned, and began shooting at anything still moving.

  “Now!” Axel pulled the door open, sprang out and veered left.

  Mark trailed behind him, bending to retrieve the knife from the tall man’s mid-section before joining Axel.

  They hurried toward a stream of employees rushing for an open exit leading outside. Slowing to blend in with the others, they were close enough to see torrents of rain pouring down, when two large cyborgs appeared off to the right.

  Mark zeroed in on their faces. Damn if they didn’t look like the same two from Portland; each one missing an eye. Mark thrust the gun at Axel, pointed to his eyes, then to the cyborgs. Axel passed the baton to Mark, grabbed his sleeve, pulling him though the flow of people to the far side.

  “When I start shooting, you run like hell. Don’t stop, no matter what.”

  The cyborgs moved toward them, pushing people out of the way like they were paper dolls.

  Axel aimed at the nearest one. He fired two shots. They found their mark, blinding the cyborg. Its momentum continued driving it forward. Without sight, it listed to the left and into a terrified group of screaming employees behind them.

  Mark heard two more shots as he plowed into a tight bunch of people, trying to force himself through the bottleneck at the doorway. Out of nowhere, he felt weightless. Something had lifted him into the air. Two metal hands were squeezing his ribcage. He tried to twist around to jab the knife or baton into the cyborg’s eye. He couldn’t move. Mark heard more shots being fired. Now he was scared. He curled into a ball to avoid being hit, praying Axel didn’t shoot him instead of the cyborg. From his elevation, Mark could see people scrambling out of their way as the cyborg turned to run farther back into the plant.