by JN Chaney
Terry thought about his fight with Zika and the other priestess. “Even if it’s not a lot, that’s gotta be better than nothing.”
Vivia shook her head. “We have no way of tracking each and every shard the natives have in their possession, nor do we have the time for such an undertaking. Unlike the Leadership, we have no satellite uplink or floating citadel to guide us in our search. For that matter, we do not have the paralyzing toxin to subdue the natives, should they resist our requests. Only the Leadership has access to that.”
Jinel sighed. “Besides, a few dozen knives would hardly be enough. We need the source.”
“What would you build with all of that?” asked Terry.
Morgan raised her hefty rifle. “Bullets,” she said with some eagerness. “Fastest way to shut them down.”
Her tone was unsettling, but he ignored it. “So, what’s your plan? Attack Tharosa and hope they have the metal?”
“We would never wage war against anyone but the Leadership,” insisted Vivia. “What kind of organization do you think this is?”
“Since you don’t talk to me about what you’re doing, I don’t really know, now do I?” he asked.
They dismissed him, and he returned to his room to rest. Maybe these people were on the right side of this war, but they sure didn’t act like it sometimes. There was a hunger here for vengeance, for blood. He didn’t blame them for that, but as long as they kept him in the dark, there wasn’t much he could do to help them.
CHAPTER 2
Ortego Outpost File Logs
Play Audio File 1301
Recorded: March 21, 2351
MITCHELL: Based on the research notes acquired by Doctor Curie from Simon Landis’s team in Central, I am certain the inoculations will prove successful. Having been a student of Doctor Archer’s work, it seems fitting Landis should be the one to develop a proper deterrent to the Variant gas. Compared to the rest of his peers in the genetics department, he is certainly the least useless of the lot, though perhaps a bit self-indulgent, having named the drug after himself in a shallow attempt at immortality.
Regardless, the inoculation remains only a temporary fix, so more work will be needed soon if it is to act as a true and long-lasting treatment.
Currently, the medication will allow the user to breathe the atmosphere for approximately eight days without hindrance, requiring periodic renewals every six to seven days to maintain immunization. I find this to be most impressive, but it is only a step forward, not a solution. Landis explains in his notes that the process has been refined to the furthest possible extent, lending his doubts to the notion of any future adjustments.
For this reason, Curie has suggested we continue on with Landis’s work ourselves, searching for whatever gaps he may have overlooked in his own research up to this point. No doubt, Landis will reject the idea outright, claiming perfection, but he would do well to read his history carefully.
Innovation often requires more than a single perspective if it is to achieve its true goal. We build our future on the backs of yesterday’s giants. It is the only way humanity knows how to move forward.
It is the only way in which we can survive.
End Audio File
Central
March 21, 2351
Sergeant Johnathan Finn stood at attention inside the office of Colonel Avery Ross, the head of the military and one of the most powerful people in all of Central. He’d been called here for a single reason: to discuss the current situation in Everlasting, an advanced city on the planet of Kant, and how it could potentially affect the future safety of the rest of humanity.
“At ease, Sergeant,” acknowledged Ross. She motioned for him to take a seat, so he did.
Another man was standing to John’s side. Captain Thistle, his direct supervisor and former team leader. “We’ve already covered the basics. Let’s hear what you think, Finn. What’s the assessment?” he asked, taking a seat next to John.
“It’s rough over there, but things are easing down. The Leadership’s got those rebels on the run, last I heard.”
“That’s Garden, right?” asked Ross.
He nodded. “They pop up and attack, but disappear before the military can move in on them. Their tactics make it hard to predict where they’ll go next, but the city has been wired with surveillance cameras, and the Leadership has stationed soldiers everywhere. It seems like every attack Garden makes, it only gets less effective.”
“Terrorists,” muttered Thistle, almost in disgust.
“Maybe, but we don’t know the situation. It wasn’t that long ago that we had our own little insurrection, if you’ll recall, Captain,” explained Ross.
“That was different,” said Thistle.
Ross took a moment before she continued. “I wouldn’t be so quick to condemn them. Not yet, anyway.”
“Ma’am?” asked John.
“Terrorists never think their cause is unjust. It’s all a matter of perspective. George Washington fought against a government he believed to be tyrannical and wrong. He attacked the enemy at night on Christmas Eve, slaughtering them like cattle in their sleep, and it was hailed as a great victory by the American people. Had you asked the English, they might have told you otherwise. They might have said that what he did was cruel and cowardly, since it was customary for each side to set down their arms on this holiday. If the American rebellion had failed, the history books would likely have called Washington a traitor. But as we know, that’s not how it went, and Washington became a great figure in history. You see my point. It’s all about perspective. Maybe Garden is the same as Washington. Maybe they have a cause worth fighting for. For all we know, there’s something else going on inside that city. Something corrupt.”
“You think the Leadership is hiding the truth?” asked John.
“You’ve been there. What’s your opinion?” she asked.
It was a tough question to answer. John had met with the Leadership several times, but had learned so little about them. The only real friend he’d made during his time in Everlasting had been Lena Sol, one of the city’s analysts, but she’d all but disappeared a few weeks ago. The last he heard, she was promoted and transferred outside the city. “I honestly don’t know,” he finally admitted. “They kept us pretty isolated when we were there, except during the attack. Even then, none of us could speak the language.”
“That shouldn’t be much of a problem now that we have a few of their translators,” said Ross.
“Not enough for everyone, but it’s been useful,” said John.
“The Science Division is working on their own. We should have something ready in a month or two. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I know that’s not helpful, Sergeant.”
“No, please, I appreciate it,” said John, giving her a bright smile. It wasn’t Ross’s fault that these things took time, so he wouldn’t bother getting upset. He’d deal with the situation as it unfolded. The translators he already had at his disposal would have to do.
Besides, Mei and Sophie were already working on learning the alien language on their own. It might be slower than using a device, but it was still progress.
“Before you leave for Kant, there’s one last thing,” began Ross.
He paused. “Is something wrong?”
She held up a hand. “Nothing like that. I just need you to understand something.”
He looked at Thistle, who gave him a knowing nod. “Of course, ma’am.”
“The situation placed before us is unprecedented, so I would caution you as we move forward. Assisting Everlasting with their medical research is the primary mission here. If it can be avoided, you must do your best to abstain from any confrontation with one of these foreign organizations. That means both the Leadership and Garden. Of course, the future is never entirely predictable, so I will expect you to use your own judgement. If a situation arises in which you have no other choice, then do what you must. Your job, as always, is to ensure the safety and security of Central and all its
people. At the end of the day, nothing else matters.”
******
Ortego Outpost
March 22, 2351
John stood patiently before the portal, waiting for the latest shipment from Central to be moved into place. It was the second one today, actually, and came with several crates of inoculations for the Variant gas. Additionally, it contained a great deal of provisions, extra CHUs, and even a few special requests from various personnel, making for one of the largest orders since this mission began.
It was also long overdue. The Science Division’s disorganization after the loss of their director had resulted in a strange power gap. Unlike the political revolution which took place within the ranks of the military, back when Colonel Ross managed to replaced Colonel Bishop, no one was around to do the same for Doctor Tremaine. Instead, the board took control.
As Mei had explained it, the board wasn’t very organized and liked to avoid making decisions whenever possible. Without someone to oversee the flow of responsibility, the board let most of the power trickle down to the department heads. This allowed Mei to handle her team as she saw fit, but it also meant she wouldn’t receive the added assistance from Central that she so desperately needed. Not at first, anyway.
Another woman by the name of Doctor Breslin Harper managed to step in at just the right time and do what needed to be done. She didn’t become the new director, by any means, nor did she seem to want the title, but she did manage to get things moving again. Harper was the reason Mei’s team grew in size, and she also opened communications between the military and the Science Division. This allowed the two branches to better develop and coordinate their operations on the other side of the portal, saving both John and Mei a bit of work. It made things significantly easier for everyone involved, but perhaps more importantly, it meant that somebody in the Science Division actually gave a damn about what Mei was trying to do. For so long, John had watched her work and toil to near exhaustion, all without any thanks or appreciation. It was good to know someone in Central had her back for a change.
“We’re all loaded up, sir,” said Meridy, a member of John’s squad.
“Sounds good,” replied John. He stepped next to the crates, which were resting on a large transport platform. Two flippies stood idle in front of the cargo, waiting to proceed through the portal. They would handle all the heavy lifting in the tunnels.
“Fire it up!” called Meridy to one of the scientists. A man named Arthur.
John was still acquainting himself with all the new people under Mei’s supervision. He hadn’t spent much time on this side of the portal since the influx of personnel, but he planned on learning all their names in time. Sure, it wasn’t something he had to do, necessarily, but John had always found value in connecting with people and getting to know them. It’s like mom always used to say, he thought. You can never have enough friends.
The portal came alive at once, swirling into a cloud of chaotic darkness. Seconds later, it slowed and faded. Now John stood before a door, brought forth out of nothing. Like Alice and the looking glass, he peered through it and into another world. Another universe.
“Time to go,” he said, and in response the flippies began to move. They passed through the rift and into Kant, and John soon followed.
On the other side, Mickey and Track waited to greet them. “Welcome back!” shouted Mickey.
“Sorry to keep you boys waiting,” said John.
The portal closed once everyone was on the other side. Meridy disembarked from the ramp and proceeded to guide the flippies to the outer hall, and then he gave Zoe permission to take over. She would handle the little robots now, remotely controlling them from the camp outside.
A few of Mei’s people worked diligently on some of the nearby consoles. John greeted them before continuing.
He walked into the hall with Mickey and Track at his side. “We’re heading back to Everlasting, along with this shipment,” said John.
“Another trip to the big city? You spoil us, boss,” said Mickey.
Track groaned. “Can we walk this time? That ship of theirs makes me sick.”
Mickey scoffed. “You’re crazy. Did you already forget about the monsters? Those ain’t no razorbacks or gophers out there, you know.”
“I’m not stupid,” said Track. “I wouldn’t go alone.”
Mickey laughed. “It’d be suicide if you did! Right, boss?”
“Sure,” said John, nodding slightly. The thought stuck with him as they went, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the dangers of the jungle. As they made their way along the ancient corridors, John began to think about Terry. A picture of his friend, bloodied and torn, buried in the mud of this foreign place, forced its way to the forefront of his mind. No, stop it, he thought, shaking the feeling away. Dwelling in those fears would accomplish nothing. That wasn’t how John did things.
Terry wasn’t dead, he told himself. Not until he found a body. Not until he turned this planet over on its head. He would remain optimistic, the same as he always had.
******
Bravo Gate Point
March 22, 2351
“Stay still and this shouldn’t hurt,” said Mei, holding a needle between her fingers.
“Are you sure?” asked Mickey, a frightened look in his eyes. He wore a breathing apparatus over his nose and mouth, a soon-to-be relic of technology, should the inoculations prove effective. “What if something happens? How do you know it’ll work?”
“Relax,” said Track, standing near his terrified friend. “Doctor Curie knows what she’s doing. Ain’t that right, Doc?”
Mei looked her patient in the eye. “Trust me. I wouldn’t give you something dangerous. The inoculation is designed to be harmless. Regardless of its effectiveness, it will pass through your body in little more than a week.”
Mickey slowly nodded. “O-Okay.”
Mei pressed the needle into the soldier’s arm, injecting the liquid while keeping pressure on him. “There,” she said, pulling it out and dabbing the puncture with a piece of cloth.
“I guess it wasn’t so bad,” muttered Mickey, staring at his arm.
“You’re such a baby,” said Track, smacking his friend on the shoulder. “I’m next, yeah?”
“Have a seat,” said Mei. Each of the soldiers were set to receive the inoculation by the day’s end. Barring any unforeseen side effects, the dose would provide them the ability to breathe the Variant gas, ultimately replacing the need for an external machine. Instead, their lungs would now be capable of filtering the gas directly, nullifying its toxicity completely. It wasn’t a permanent solution, since the inoculation would only be good for a week, but it was a massive leap in the right direction.
Mei opened a small black box, which had six doses enclosed in it. She placed the empty needle inside and took out another.
Track grinned and presented his arm to her. “Can’t wait to taste some of that air.”
Mei remembered the moment she took her first breath of Variant, back when she was thrown into that awful chamber. She also recalled the second she stepped out of the Sling and onto the Surface, tasting pure Variant for the first time. She and her friends had spent their whole lives in Central, never fully understanding what awaited them up there, never knowing what was missing. That first breath was like a rush of life, filling her lungs with something new, and for the first time in her life, she felt fully alive. She felt like herself.
Mickey and Track would probably not experience any of this. They weren’t genetically engineered to process Variant in the same way that she was, so it was unlikely that any strong changes would occur. No enhanced reflexes, eyesight, or strength. Nothing to make them into super soldiers, but that was fine. Simply being able to breathe freely without the use of a device was its own reward.
“Here you go,” said Mei as she injected Track with the needle.
“When can we take the breathers off?” asked Mickey, referring to the device on his mouth that kept
him from suffocating.
“An hour, at least,” explained Mei.
He frowned. “Aw, man. That’s so long.”
“Deal with it,” said a familiar voice from behind Mei. A man she knew so well.
“Boss, you come to check up on us?” asked Mickey.
John placed his hand on Mei’s shoulder as he stepped beside her. He looked at her and smiled. “I gotta make sure my boys are squared up. Who else is left?”
“I’ve taken care of everyone except Short and Hughes,” said Mei.
Track motioned toward one of the CHUs. “Pretty sure they’re in there.”
“Guess we’ll have to bring it to them,” said John.
With the case of inoculations under her arm, Mei got to her feet. “You’d think they would want to get this done as quickly as possible.”
“Pretty sure those two have other things on their mind.” He gave her a wry smile.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
He started walking. “Let’s find out.”
The camp bustled with activity, thanks to the new arrivals from Central. Doctor Harper managed to convince the board to expand the size of Mei’s team from a mere four to a full twenty. This allowed the Ortego outpost to stay fully manned without taking away from her mission on Kant. Even better, it allowed her to bring Sophie and Tabata to the new location, much to their delight.
The new additions were surprisingly useful, too. Having them around let her accomplish more without straining herself with the minutiae. Looking back, Mei never realized how overworked she’d been during her time at the Ortego outpost. All those late nights and long hours seemed to blend together like a dream. Still, she wouldn’t trade those months for anything. Bart, Zoe, Sophie, Travis, and even Tabata had become like family, each of them pushing the rest to succeed. Each believing in the dream.
When they arrived at the CHU, John gave three knocks on the door. “Open up!”
Mei could hear some hurried shuffling coming from the other side. “Ouch!” said a woman’s voice, trying to whisper, but failing.