Edge Of The Future

by Andria Stone

  He stood, looking through the porthole to the outside. The ship had stopped. He must hurry. “The third one is, I could tell you what’s going to happen when we take our little space walk. For instance, you might survive for about three minutes, but I doubt it—you’re in sad shape. Your tongue’s going to freeze. Your body’s going to swell to twice its normal size. You’re going to urinate, projectile vomit, defecate, then experience dramatic seizures. Then you’re going to suffer cardiac arrest and die. I could tell you all that, but I’m not going to. I’ve decided to let you experience it first-hand. Fear only exists to be conquered. Can you see, Coulter? I have conquered my fear. Willing to kill is one thing—willing to die is another. Today—it ends here.”

  Mark sealed his faceplate, helmet, gauntlets, and keyed the same numerical sequence into the pad to the outer hatch. He picked up Coulter, then withdrew the knife from her midsection, which unplugged the severed vessels, allowing the wound to bleed in earnest. He tossed the knife on the floor. It belonged to Axel; he might want it back.

  Mark pressed the button. The hatch slid into the right side of the hull. He swung Coulter out in front of him, holding on to her with one hand, while he pressed the control to the jet pack with the other. He kept his eyes on her as they sailed into vast emptiness of space together. One short spurt, a longer one, another one. He talked to her. She couldn’t hear him. He did it anyway. “My family’s free now. They can go back home to live their lives. Not worry or look over their shoulders at shadows or strange noises. Axel’s free. I hope they get to him soon and patch him up. He was a good friend. No—more like a brother.” He tried to swallow. It stuck in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, spilled out, running down his cheek, slowing as they reached his chin.

  He looked at Coulter. She was dead. It was done. He let her go.

  Pressing the pack’s control again, he sailed farther out into space. A wonderful blanket of peace engulfed him. He looked out at the stars, started humming a long forgotten lullaby his mom had sung a lifetime ago.

  “Dr. Warren.”

  “Mom?”

  “No, Mark. It’s Sorayne. Maeve. Remember me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s time to come back inside now.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Okay. I’ll come get you.”

  A small figure floated toward him growing in size as it approached. A light appeared in the faceplate. He could see part of a woman’s face. “Maeve. Sorayne?”

  “Yes, Mark. Let’s go back inside. Check on Axel, okay?” She attached her tether to his jet pack harness.

  “Axel thinks you’re hot as hell. He said so.”

  “I think he’s hot, too, but don’t tell him.”

  They sailed toward the ship much faster than he’d left it.

  ***

  Torance sat next to Sorayne. Both wore anxious expressions. They watched from the overhead viewing booth as a team of surgeons worked on Axel. His blood loss had been on the fringe of what a human could lose without dying. The damage done by the mercenary had been extensive, shattering both left humerus and femur bones beyond repair—even by nanites. Augmentation was the only option.

  Sorayne spoke softly, “When I ordered my pilot to land at the closest Combat Hospital, I had no idea it would be their home base.”

  “Good that you did,” Torance said. “We’re the best on the Northern continent. Soldiers from all over are transferred to us. Besides, they have friends here—a support system. They’ll heal quicker.”

  “How’s Dr. Warren doing?” she asked.

  “He never ceases to amaze me. It’s a wonder he’s still sane. We’ve identified seventeen different chemicals in his system. He had significant injuries to his wrists and ankles, which means he was restrained and tortured. We’ve administered a new nanite protocol for his ribs. Repaired his leg wounds in the correct manner. After ten hours of sleep, plus the breakfast of an Olympic weightlifter, he’s up walking around this morning.” Torance chuckled. “He submitted to a halo interrogation, but told the young sergeant that he’d break her ‘friggin’ arm if she came near him with a needle. Anyway, he doesn’t remember much of what transpired once Coulter had him under her control. He swears he didn’t give her any of his research. We can’t prove it.”

  “We began monitoring her transmissions before they departed the station. No data left the ship, so I’d say he’s in the clear.” She looked down at the surgery theater. “Does he know what’s happening to Axel?

  “Yes, I told him.” Torance let out an audible sigh, hunching his shoulders over, resting his elbows on knees.

  “And his response…”

  “He shook my hand and said, ‘Everything’s going to be all right, you’ll see.’”

  “Where is he now?”

  “With Capt. Eva Jackson, the other scientist, and Sgt. Kamryn Fleming, Axel’s counterpart. Kamryn was shot apprehending a cyborg’s accomplice. She’s still recovering. Sad. She won’t be returning to her armored unit. Now, neither she nor Axel will. You, along with a handful of others are the only augments still allowed to serve on Terra.”

  Chapter 25

  Mark hugged Eva like a long-lost friend. He repeated the greeting with Kamryn, Petra, even Ohashi. He was shirtless, wearing a two-day growth of beard, various contusions, lacerations, ugly bruises, with bandaged wrists and ankles. The women had gathered in his room after breakfast to welcome him “home.” Kamryn and Ohashi took chairs. Eva and Petra sat beside him on the bed.

  Because they pleaded, he gave them a play-by-play rundown on “The Harrowing Misadventures of Axel and Mark.” He tried to keep it light, making jokes, leaving out the gorier details, plus his part in Coulter’s demise. Although, he suspected they already knew. News travels fast in an underground military complex.

  In typical Petra style, she asked, “You saw her. The young Coulter—the clone?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  With a look, she urged him to elaborate.

  “Younger, thinner, following orders, in charge of the others.” In a not so typical tone, he added, “So scary, I almost puked.”

  Mark got up, drank half a pitcher of water, then sat down again. Looking straight at Kamryn, he said, “I can’t explain how responsible I feel about you being shot—now Axel too, much less what happened to my father.”

  “No, Mark,” Eva said in a decisive tone. “It was Coulter. She had my brother killed. She ordered all these other things, and more. I cannot blame myself for Dion’s death. I won’t allow you to bear the guilt for what she did to your dad, or anyone else.”

  “She’s right,” Kamryn chimed in. “How dare you try to take credit for my war wound. I could have gotten this on foreign soil. Instead, I got it here, keeping people safe in my own country. If you try this with Axel, he’s going to kick your, ah… well, you know.”

  “You can’t go back to your unit. Axel can’t either.”

  “We are soldiers, Mark. We wear our wounds with honor. They make us who we are. We are warriors.” In a softer tone, she added, “Let it go. I have.”

  Every tablet pinged.

  Kamryn read the message aloud. “Axel’s out of surgery. We can see him in a couple of hours.”

  A collective sigh of relief filled the room.

  “Well, I would’ve eased into this, but I’m sensing a deadline. Here’s my news: When my tour is up in two months, I’m leaving the military. I was planning on opening a business back in Oregon. Not any longer. Santa’s coming early this year.” He tried but failed to hide his smile.

  The ladies looked at each other, their eyebrows raised.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  They giggled.

  “Back in college, I started investing in the stock market. With the new tablet they issued me this morning, I accessed my private accounts, and found I’d been contacted by some attorneys who represent a company that wants to purchase a certain stock I have.”

  “Are you going to sell it?”
Petra ran a hand though her new indigo blue tipped hair.

  “Yes…and my proposition is: I want you to join me in a business venture. The startup capital is not a problem. For this to work, I need all of you onboard with this—as partners.” He made eye contact with each woman, emphasizing the serious nature of his proposal, remaining silent to let it sink in.

  “On Luna, Eva and I began to compare theories about Coulter, and why she wanted our research. We pooled our knowledge, devising a plan to seek out information from a network of our colleagues who also had suspicions about how the Europa Mission might have been destroyed. That’s when Axel and Kamryn became full partners. From there, we sifted through clues, finally coming up with a working hypothesis. Then you—Petra and Ohashi—became integral to tracking down the leads. You also pulled our asses out of more than one fire until we tied Coulter to BioKlon. This is astounding. The TMD had been working on it for a year, yet we came up with answers in a fraction of the time.”

  He stood, limping as he wandered around. “We’re excellent at what we do, but together—as a unit, a team—we’re better. So much better.”

  “A team…to do what?” Kamryn asked, showing some interest.

  “Coulter had the plant in Malaysia—now closed. The plant she intended to open in India—now closed. Both BioKlons—now closed. Her corporate ship flew us to Amsterdam to pick up clones. We need to start there. Search for holdings, chemical shipments, genetic engineering or cryopod purchases. I’d bet my life there are more plants. We’ve no idea what kinds of research she was using them for. How many more ships did she have? Where are they now? Could there be another Coulter clone ready to take over?” He stopped, taking in the grim expressions on their faces. “Too much?”

  The women exchanged glances.

  Eva squirmed around to look at him with a Mona Lisa smile on her petite bronze face. “I know you, Mark. You already have a plan. What is it?”

  “I negotiate an agreement with the TMD, buy the BioKlon ship taken into custody, plus every future ship which is confiscated—there’s no way to retrofit them for military use—including my pick of BioKlon research equipment. Selling this stuff at auction would be their only option, except it’s a lengthy process. Once we have the ship, next is the equipment, then we need a location for a Lab. Then we’re in business. You ladies choose a location. Anywhere is fine with me. Eva, if you’d rather handle the Terran side—be in charge of research—great. Petra and Ohashi, you both have cyber specialties. You get to choose your own titles. Kamryn, Axel and I will hunt down the leads—boots on the ground stuff. We just need a pilot.”

  No one said anything. It dragged on.

  Kamryn stood.

  Mark thought she was going to walk out.

  Instead, she extended her hand in a dignified, solemn manner. “I’m in.”

  The other women stared, taken by surprise.

  Eva asked, “What should we call it?”

  “Wait…” Petra closed her eyes, tilting her head toward the ceiling. “I know: M.A.V.R.E.K. an acronym, or a portmanteau. A combination of Mark, Axel, with an E added—for Eric.”

  “Perfect,” said Ohashi.

  ***

  Axel and Mark were wrestling in the gym. Transparent sleeves protected the new skin growth on Axel’s left arm and leg. They had stripped down to trunks. At the mat’s edge lay a heap of exercise togs, towels, water bottles. Axel was healing fast, due to the nanite protocol, boosted by his extreme self-imposed exercise regime. Nowadays, he’d rather have his brain flooded with endorphins than battlefield drugs. Although officially discharged, Orthopedics’ would not sign his release until he finished rehab.

  They spotted a familiar figure walking toward them.

  She waved.

  They waved back.

  The gorgeous, platinum-haired woman wore a colonel’s uniform. She, with the one blue eye and one green eye, walked with a military stride that was so sexy it raised Axel’s libido.

  “I happened to be flying by. Thought I’d stop to check on you two.” Her gaze rested on Axel. “I see you’ve been exercising more muscles besides the ones you sit on.”

  Axel stared at her.

  “So…you’ve officially been discharged, Sgt. Von Radach?”

  “Yes, ma’am. They’re keeping me here until I finish rehab. Orthopedics wants to make sure I’m good to go before they release me.”

  “Well, then, why don’t I take you to lunch.” She leaned closer, whispering in his ear, “And maybe I can find you a pilot.”

  He fought the urge to pull her close.

  Mark whistled.

  Axel turned around in time to catch the clothes Mark pitched at him. He stepped into the pants, and pulled the t-shirt over his head.

  Sorayne picked up his sleeved arm, draping it over hers while they walked out of the gym together. As they started toward the dining hall, she stopped him. “Didn’t I tell you? We’re having lunch in Winnipeg. I have a meeting. I’ll bring you home afterward. Not to worry.”

  No way was he going anywhere outside with a fine-looking female colonel in sweaty exercise togs.

  “My ride’s on the tarmac. See you in ten minutes?”

  He ran to his quarters, took a two minute shower, dressed in leather clothes, then broke the land speed record for making it to the exit in time.

  A sleek silver ship with the requisite blue Space Command insignia hovered on the tarmac.

  Axel jumped in, closing the hatch. They were the only passengers. He eased into the seat facing her.

  “I haven’t seen you awake since my people boarded the Star of Jaipur. Why don’t you start from there? Bring me up to date…Axel.”

  He did as she requested. He didn’t leave anything out. From one soldier to another, one augment to another. The unvarnished truth. Period. He spoke. She listened, like kindred souls who had known each other for a long time, but had only just met.

  In Winnipeg, they parted when she entered a skyscraper downtown, with plans to meet there in two hours.

  Axel took out his tablet, found what he wanted, then called to make sure the tattoo artist could do what he asked. He hailed a car for the drive, showed the tattoo artist the image, got it done, and was back in front of the building with five minutes to spare. He watched the traffic until she approached him from behind, threading her arm through his.

  “How about some lunch?”

  He nodded, staring at her again.

  She walked him into the next building, up to the desk, and received a card. They went up to a suite on the twenty-fifth floor with a breathtaking panoramic view.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, leaving him at the window. In a bit, she returned wearing a white towel.

  He walked over and kissed her as he had never kissed another woman, and she kissed him back. Maeve Sorayne looked, felt, and now tasted different than any of the others. She was unique.

  The towel slipped to the floor.

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

  ***

  Under a clear noonday sun, Mark stood on the icy tarmac, gazing at his first spacecraft. He was certain there would be more. Petra had used coercion, in the form of chocolate cake and a case of beer, for the privilege of designing the logo, which she ordered emblazoned on both sides: Royal blue outstretched eagle wings fifteen feet wide, with three-dimensional gold letters spelling MAVREK, superimposed over them. A dramatic visual against the pale bronze hull.

  True to her word, Sorayne had recommended two pilots; one male, the other female. Both were former Space Command who’d suffered wounds requiring augmentation, as such, were no longer certified for military spaceflight. Conversely, Mark considered it a fringe benefit, not a drawback.

  He’d scheduled a test flight of their new ship, using the male to pilot and female as copilot on the outbound trip, and reversing roles for the return. This weekend was the maiden voyage in their new ship to Lexington, Kentucky. They were on a scouting mission for the home office of MAVREK Enterpri
ses. The TMD Headquarters were 350 miles east, in Richmond, Virginia. Close enough, without being too close.

  Once everyone arrived, the pilots boarded first. The women followed, sending out squeals of delight with comments on the posh blue interior, the meeting room, and both Lavs; a world apart from what they were used to in the military. Although it held six passengers today, it could carry fifty or more if necessary.

  A male voice announced over the ship’s comm, “Test flight of MAVREK One, ready for liftoff.”

  Everyone applauded. They strapped in while Mark produced a chilled bottle of champagne with plastic cups. He toasted them, “To my friends.”

  They bubbled with excitement about the new venture, new location, and this new direction for their lives. Mark sat back, watching his colleagues—partners—his family, enjoying a blissful moment after experiencing more than their share of sad ones. He reflected on his own life. He was a scientist who had become a soldier, a path he would never have envisioned. Although he’d taken some lives, he’d saved some as well. He chose not to dwell on the past. He heard the echo of his father’s voice, “Deal with it—and persevere.”

  Back in Portland, his dad, mom, and sister were happy, healthy and back to work.

  Gina had bought a condo, which in a strange twist of fate, coincided with a series of events that shocked Portland to its foundation. A law enforcement probe originating in New Zealand had tied the Sheriff, Harold Blackwell, along with a couple of his old friends, to an International Child Pornography Ring. They were behind bars awaiting trial. Alas, the media had already tried and convicted them.

  Karma’s a bitch.

  Mark relaxed, leaned back, closed his eyes, listening to the jovial chatter.

  Mid-flight, Ohashi screamed, “Holy crap! Facial recognition software just identified an image of a young Coulter on the Space Station. What should we do, Mark?”

  “Don’t lose her—whatever you do—don’t lose her. She’s an engineered psychopath who enjoys killing—believe me.”