by T. C. Edge
Martha hid her cringe at his loud, boisterous voice. It spread right across the stretch of earth between them, and all over the base by the sounds of it. It was a sometimes unfortunate side-effect of being so popular and committing to such a friendly demeanour. Every man and his dog wanted to talk to her. And Martha didn’t like dogs.
“Morning, Brian,” Martha spoke back, though with far more control over the volume of her voice. “I’m just popping off home for a little while. There are a few things I need to see to.”
It was a non-committal reply, but a lowly man like Brian, the aircraft technician, didn’t require anything more. In fact, no one really did. All the councillors had free reign to return to their homes when they saw fit, and no one was required to stay on base if they didn’t wish it.
“Ah, well it’ll be a shame to see you go, Councillor. Your smile brightens things up around here. Never the same without you.”
Martha lifted her signature smile in response, and bowed her head in thanks, hurrying on over. She was keen to cover the ground quick enough to shut Brian the hell up.
She arrived a moment later, the aircraft now just about in position. It didn’t require a runway or stretch of land to take off. Most modern airborne transports had the capability of lifting vertically, though some of the larger troop carriers still needed to adopt older methods of beating gravity.
“There you are, m’lady,” said Brian, waving his hand to the plane as it stopped in place. “All ready for take-off.”
A man exited the plane, dressed in overalls. He tipped his hat at Martha and hurried off into the hanger and out of sight. He’d been the one to drive the plane into position. The duty of flying would now be taken on by Kurt.
Knowing his role, he climbed into the small plane, leaving the other bodyguard, Rick, outside with Martha. She obeyed one final pleasantly with Brian, a habit she’d worked so hard to cultivate that she found it impossible to now ignore.
“Thank you, Brian,” she said, still holding her smile in place. “I’ll see you my return.”
She glanced around the courtyard. No soldiers were incoming.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Brian said merrily. He was probably about her age, though given her anti-ageing treatments, looked a great deal older. He smiled affectionately, and stepped back.
Martha turned to the jet as Rick reached out to help her on board. She had just told a final lie on this base, and she’d told a number beyond count in her time. She’d said to Brian that she’d see him on her return.
That was a lie.
She was never coming back.
17
“You’re kidding. You are actually kidding.”
Tanner was shaking his head, smiling broadly in disbelief, and reiterating his point again and again. Ragan was shaking his head too, half in denial himself. He stayed silent until Tanner finally went quiet.
“I wish I was,” Ragan said. His face was flat as a pane of glass. “But…I don’t think I am. In fact, I know I’m not.”
The four were now fully awake, gathered outside of the jet around the dying fire. It glowed with embers only, a similar colour of the horizon, and wasn’t going to be brought back to life. Given the state of things, they weren’t likely to stay here long.
A few minutes ago, Ragan had gathered himself enough to bring his teammates up to speed on what he’d discovered. He’d taken a few moments to himself, going over things several times, before coming to his final conclusion.
It was Martha Mitchell on the other end of the line.
He’d been largely suspicious before he made the call. During it, the manner in which the modulated voice spoke strengthened that suspicion significantly. It held a rhythm and flow he knew, but more than that, it was the wording that convinced him. He began to fear, even before he uttered her name, that it was Martha he was dealing with. And when he said her name, and heard the line immediately sever…well, it was all the evidence he needed.
He returned to the camp, gathered them round, and informed them of what had happened. And now, Tanner was suggesting it was all a joke.
It wasn’t.
“Have you had any sleep at all, bud?” Tanner asked, committed to debunking Ragan’s theory.
No, it wasn’t a damn theory. It was the stone cold truth, horrible as it was to admit.
“No,” Ragan said.
Tanner nodded as if he’d won some victory.
“Well, maybe you should have stuck to the roster that we decided upon,” he said. “Some sleep might have done you good. You didn’t need to stay on watch all night.”
“I wanted to,” said Ragan.
“You didn’t trust me with Mikel?” said Tanner. He considered his own statement, pursing his lips. “Actually, fair enough. I wouldn’t trust me with that freak either.”
“We’re getting off-topic,” said Nadia. All eyes turned to her. “So, I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Ragan, but…why on earth would Martha want to steal the data from under our noses? She’s been part of Project Dawn for years, hasn’t she?”
“By appearances, yeah,” said Ragan. “Far as I see it, we have spies all over the continent, from the WSA to the NDSA. I mean, I was one right at the heart of the CID for years. They never knew what I was up to, who I was really reporting to. There’s no reason at all why Project Dawn should be exempt to such infiltrations. Unfortunately, that person seems to be Martha.”
Tanner made an audible huff. Ragan turned to him, eyes blazing.
“Look, Tanner, if you’re not going to see reason here, then you’re not getting back on that damn jet when we set off. Stop being so goddamned petulant and grow the hell up.”
“I’m not getting on the jet?!” Tanner stormed. “And who’s gonna stop me? You?!”
Tanner flew to his feet from a log he’d been perched on, fronting right up to Ragan. The latter stood taller, but only by a little. The bout would be an intriguing one.
“Boys, boys,” came Nadia’s sultry voice. “Much as Chloe and I would like to see you two duke it out, your bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
She moved in, prising the two apart. Chloe, hovering to one side, felt she needed to contribute somehow. She stepped forward and put a calming hand to Ragan’s arm. His eyes turned, and their fire was doused.
“I’m with Nadia,” Chloe said, addressing the group. “Stop with this macho bullshit. What’s the main aim here? To get the data, right? So, Martha’s betrayed us…who cares! Why does it matter now? The only thing that matters is that we find out where Mikel hid the disc before anyone else does, and destroy it. Wasting our energy on anything else is totally futile.”
“Hear hear,” exclaimed Nadia. “It’s so nice to have another logical person around. You boys need to stop trying to outdo each other and focus on the main task at hand. Or damnit, Chloe and I will take the jet ourselves, and leave you two down here to continue your pissing contest.”
It was an empty threat, though had the desired effect. The two young men looked at each other, and took a couple of steps back, giving them some breathing space.
“Good,” said Nadia. “Now, Chloe’s right. We need to get the data, and nothing else matters. And, Ragan, for the record, I do believe you about Martha.”
“So do I,” added Chloe quickly. She looked at Tanner, almost apologetic. “You have to admit, it does make sense.”
Tanner’s eyes flitted about before settling at his feet. He shrugged.
“I guess,” he murmured. “It’s just…Martha’s such a doll. She’s always adored you, Ragan, above all Hard to believe she’d give you up to Mikel to be eaten like a damn cheeseburger.”
“Cheeseburger?” said Ragan, raising a half smile. “Is that how you see me? I always considered myself more of a prime steak.”
Tanner laughed lightly.
“Nah, cheeseburger’s being generous. I’m the prime steak around here.”
The girls exchanged an amused glance. Even now, the two were sparring.
/> Still, the little exchange did manage to break the tension, and served to align everyone in their thoughts.
“OK,” said Tanner, turning serious. “So, Martha’s Mikel’s secret employer, and probably working for someone else…”
“Certainly working for someone else,” cut in Nadia. “Nothing she can do with the data alone.”
“Right,” nodded Tanner. “But, as Chloe said, she’s kinda failed, right. That’s if we trust Mikel on his word. And you know my thoughts on that one. I’m averse to believing anything that springs from that creature’s ugly trap. But, for the sake of acting as a team, I’ll get on board with that. So, what now? How the hell are we gonna get the information off of him?”
The four looked around at each other, as if hoping someone would come up with a bright idea. In the end, Chloe was the one to speak first, though on a slightly different topic.
“Shouldn’t we call in to Colonel Slattery?” she said. “If we know who the mole is, then we don’t have anything to worry about. We could use the help.”
“We don’t need the help,” said Ragan. “There’s nothing the Colonel can do that we can’t right here. This is our responsibility now. I’m not going back to base until we’ve found and destroyed that data, understand?”
His expression darkened for a moment, swaying around the group.
“And, Martha?” asked Chloe hesitantly. “If she’s worked out it was you on the line, she’ll escape the base. We need to tell Slattery to take her in for questioning.”
“No, we don’t.” Ragan’s visage remained somewhat in shadow. “She doesn’t matter anymore.”
“But she betrayed us…she betrayed you! Are you just going to let that slide?” Chloe couldn’t quite understand it. This woman had given them up to be killed, drained white by a nano-vamp. She couldn’t forgive that. How could he?
“We can’t spare thought on that right now,” said Ragan. “And I don’t want to call in to Slattery and muddy things up. Who knows, maybe there’s another mole. Maybe Martha isn’t working alone.” He looked around the group. “We have all we need right here. We deal with this problem together, and alone. I trust you all with my life. Yes, even you, Cliff. Now, let’s put our heads together and figure this out. Nothing else matters but us, right here.”
He eased up his expression, trying to show the group that he remained in his right mind. That his lack of sleep wasn’t the reason for his surly single-mindedness. Really, he was like that a lot when involved in a mission. Ragan was aware that he could be difficult at times, that he always knew best. It was a part of his personality that often served him well, though didn’t always endear him to fellow soldiers.
Yet right now, the stress was getting to him. The burden of responsibility, taken upon his own shoulders when he chose to save Chloe, and not complete the mission, was wearing him down. He had what he needed right here, and didn’t want to deal with Slattery’s interfering voice. The Colonel would surely order them to return to base immediately, wasting time, and would no doubt take charge of the operation from there.
No, Ragan wasn’t having that. He’d created the mess. He was going to clean it up. And his expression made that evidently clear to his teammates.
Thankfully, he got some measure of agreement. By some rare twist, Tanner was first to step up in support.
“Agreed,” he stated loudly, caressing his fists. He’d been itching to have a good go at Mikel since they captured him. “We don’t need old Slattery sticking his oar in. Nothing they can do back there that we can’t do here.”
“Yep, sure, I’m in,” said Nadia. “Why the hell not.”
Everyone looked at Chloe.
“You don’t need my agreement,” she said.
“But we want it,” said Nadia. “We’re a team, honey. Teams work together.”
The concept remained alien to Chloe. She didn’t work in a team. She worked in a partnership only, with Remus. She looked at the little drone now, chilling on her shoulder.
“What do you think, buddy,” she said. “You agree with them?”
Remus leapt to his skinny bird-like feet, as if ready for action.
“You get used to his little animations,” smirked Chloe. “That one’s a very enthusiastic ‘yes’.”
The group smiled in unison, and turned to the entrance to the falcon.
“Now comes the hard part,” said Ragan, looking on. “We need to figure out how to get him to talk.”
Mikel sat, wrists bound behind his back and ankles shackled to the legs of his chair. His body was draped in its normal black suit and similarly coloured cloak, the very same attire he’d worn since he first started hunting Chloe and Ragan back in LA.
Most normal people would need a shower by now. Not Mikel. His body produced small amounts of sweat, but it was genetically designed to be odourless. When hunting and tracking nano-augmented soldiers, particularly those with powerful senses, it was rather useful to not have to worry about your scent being caught.
He was also quite capable of regulating his own body temperature, meaning sweating was a rarity anyway. Only on hot days when he was required to be rather more active than he’d like, did his skin begin to dew. That hadn’t happened for a while, and thus he often went some time without ever changing his garments.
Sitting in the rear of the jet, he looked towards the open doorway ahead, and the pale sunlight streaming in from outside. He could hear voices in conversation, brisk words spoken. The little team who’d taken him were debating something, bickering like children. He drew an almost sympathetic grin.
How unprofessional they are, he thought. What a useless group…
Mikel had, of course, an artificially designed requirement to despise nano-augmented soldiers. So, really, his opinion of the group’s proficiency couldn’t be heavily counted upon.
Still, he listened closely, trying to decipher their words. They were just out of range, hidden off in the woods somewhere outside the jet. Their desperation to retrieve the data disc was rather amusing to Mikel. It was, however, something he understood. They craved what he held in his possession like he craved the nanites in theirs. He understood full well.
But, what of this Martha Mitchell? That was the name Hunt had growled when he woke him not long ago. Mikel had been entirely honest in his response. He’d truly never heard the name before.
It was an interesting turn, that was for sure. Another joyous one, really, for Mikel. He’d inferred enough from Hunt’s stark eyes and sudden, pouncing energy to know that this woman was clearly well known to them.
She was part of their little group.
He licked his lips as he listened to the jumbled words outside. His fangs just wouldn’t go in, canines still partially extended. The smell, the taste. Oh those nanites were unbearably alluring. They forced the teeth to extend with such proximity, and wouldn’t let them back in. Only when sleeping might they retract, though Mikel never knew whether that was the case, for obvious reasons.
It was hard, certainly, to be so close to the feast without being able to feed. But not as hard as these foolish people thought. It was like sitting at a banquet table filled with succulent dishes, ones favourite in the world. You could smell the food, but you couldn’t eat it. For a time, that would be just fine, and perhaps quite pleasant. The scents were something to themselves, an appetiser so to speak. But give it hours, days, and the stress would start to tell. The hunger would build and swell. The stomach would demand to be fed.
And eventually, it would drive you wild.
That was how it was for Mikel and his unquenchable thirst, yet as of now he found himself only in the early stages. He was enjoying the smell, anticipating the meal to come. And though he knew his lust could only be contained for so long, he knew something else too.
He knew these people couldn’t contain him either.
He smiled at the thought, curving his pale lips. The grin widened as the voices outside suddenly stopped, and he heard footsteps replace them. Moments lat
er, all four of his captors were marching up into the jet, eyes widening as they took in the dark space in which Mikel dwelled. They all centred on him immediately. They all came marching on.
“What are you smirking at now? What is it with that ugly grin?”
It was Tanner who spoke first, his face coiled in disgust. Tanner, with his blond hair and tanned skin. Tanner, with that handsome face Mikel so wished to ravage and mutilate. He’d feed on the others, but not Tanner.
No, he’d keep that one alive. He’d make him the freak.
“I told you all before,” Mikel answered. “Sometimes I just like to smile. I’m a happy person.” His grim grew wider.
“Well knock it off,” said Tanner. “I can barely stand to look at you as it is.”
“Then please, be my guest and don’t. As you can see, I’m shackled here where I sit. I have no choice of where to go, but you do.”
“He’s got you there, Cliff,” said Nadia, nudging her buddy and stifling a laugh.
“It would appear so,” grumbled Tanner, unable to think of a suitable response.
He didn’t get the chance, however, as Ragan came forward, drawing Mikel’s focus. The others stayed back, hovering in the background and cloistered to the rear beyond the briefing table. Ragan took up another chair from the table, dragged it in front of Mikel, and sat down. He didn’t speak for a moment. He just stared into Mikel’s eyes, as if trying to understand him.
Mikel chose to look back. He enjoyed these games.
“Certain things have come to light, Mikel,” Ragan began after several moments. He was calm, assured. Completely unlike he’d been only fifteen or so minutes back when he’d woken Mikel so suddenly. “I mentioned Martha Mitchell to you, and have since discovered that she is, in fact, your employer. Of that I have no doubt. Now, I do actually believe you when you tell me you didn’t know that was the case. After all, why should you? And more to the point, why would Martha have revealed herself to you if there was no need to do so?”
Mikel listened carefully, trying to maintain his concentration despite the enticing smell.