“Zane, I was hoping we could take a few minutes to talk.” Dr. Stevenson took a seat beside him on the couch.
Zane swallowed. This didn’t sound like it was going anywhere good, but nothing too terribly bad would be said in public. He erased any fear from his face by returning to his usual blank mask that the run stripped from him. Not having to hide his thoughts while he ran had been such a relief.
“Of course. What’s up?”
Dr. Stevenson looked around like he was trying to make sure they were alone. “Not here. Let’s go to my office.”
Damn, that wasn’t good, but Zane had no choice but to comply. He forced his legs to move, following the doctor.
They left the training floor together and made their way to the elevator that took them down one floor to the medical facility. Dr. Stevenson threaded his way around all the medical staff and AI helpers. His office was on the farthest corner of the building.
Zane examined his surroundings, trying not to focus on the little voice in his head telling him to get the hell out of there. He had never seen Dr. Stevenson’s office, but that was mostly because, unlike today, he avoided the medical area at all costs.
The office was a large windowless room kept neat and tidy. The doctor’s desk was made completely out of glass, making it easy for Dr. Stevenson to access his patient’s information. Dr. Stevenson sat down behind the desk and quickly swiped away whatever charts he had previously been looking at.
Zane continued to watch as he took a seat on the hard chair positioned in front of the desk. He stifled the urge to run while Dr. Stevenson began pulling up new images on his desk. When the doctor found the documents he wanted, he looked back up at Zane and cleared his throat. “Zane, I wanted to meet with you privately because I ran into some irregularities in your blood work.”
Zane felt sick.
The doctor knew.
He wasn’t ready for his new life to end. Wasn’t growing up alone in an orphanage enough? How much more would he lose?
Oblivious to his thoughts, Dr. Stevenson continued. “We routinely do a DNA genetic screening on all of our cadets toward the end of the training year, but I selected to begin your testing a little early. There were some things that intrigued me about you, and I just couldn’t help myself.”
Dr. Stevenson glanced down at the display on his desk and then looked back up at him as if astonished by something. “After watching your physical training and your training in the hypobaric chamber I began to realize you were different. Your body reacts differently from any other cadet we’ve trained.”
Zane was confused. This didn’t sound like it was about his anomaly. “What are you talking about?”
Dr. Stevenson placed his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers together. His eyebrows arched. “Zane, how do you feel during your physical training exercises?”
He shrugged. “Um, just fine, I guess.” He was overly conscious of his body during every physical training exercise, but he had never seen a problem. Never.
Dr. Stevenson smiled. “I would guess you felt great, that you could keep going, even when others began to tire.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” He had an anomaly that would cause health issues. What did it matter if he was in better shape than anyone else?
Dr. Stevenson ignored his question. “Have you ever monitored your heart rate or breathing rate during extreme physical exercise?”
“Yeah, they were under control.” Besides, his techiwatch also monitored his heart rate, and it had never indicated a problem.
“And how about in the hypobaric chamber? You felt good, right?” Dr. Stevenson persisted.
Zane still didn’t know where Dr. Stevenson was going with this. He had made sure his body was functioning properly during all of his testing because he was too paranoid not to.
“Well, I felt fine, but I can’t be really sure of that because that’s what oxygen deprivation does to you. It distorts your actions and emotions. I thought I felt fine at the time, but it was a false feeling.” He knew he was rambling but wasn’t sure if he could stop himself from explaining further.
Dr. Stevenson’s forehead scrunched in disbelief, as he fidgeted awkwardly in his seat. “Zane you are a very intelligent young man. Are you actually telling me that you truly believe your performance so far has been normal?”
Zane’s confusion must have shown because the doctor decided to spare him further questioning.
“Zane, your heart and breathing rate remained calm and steady during your twenty-six mile run this morning. If that wasn’t phenomenal, then your hypobaric chamber performance time certainly would have been. I watched you that day. You didn’t seem to be affected at all by the lower oxygen level. As a doctor, I became curious and watched you closely. In fact, you intrigued me so much that I ran a few tests on you.”
The doctor sheepishly smiled as if in apology for taking such liberties, but he was obviously pleased with the results. “I’ve never seen anything like your genetic sequence. At first glance, I thought you had a defect in your DNA for heart failure, but because I’ve personally witnessed you function under high physical and mental stress, I knew I needed to look further.” The doctor leaned forward, excited. “When you look more closely at the irregularity in your DNA, you can see it’s not a genetic disposition for heart failure, but something entirely different. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Zane could no longer hold a straight face. He jumped to his feet and rounded the desk, towering over Dr. Stevenson. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’ve been perfectly healthy for the past nineteen years, and I’m here to make something of myself. You can’t take that away from me.” He looked down at the doctor and stared into his eyes, willing him to understand.
Dr. Stevenson, not fazed by his domineering stance, placed a hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Zane. I’m not going to tell anyone what I’ve discovered, and you’ll still be given the opportunity to graduate and gain status in the WRD. Please sit back down, and let me try to explain without getting ahead of myself again.”
Zane reluctantly took a step back and resumed his seat across from the doctor, trying to calm down. He believed Dr. Stevenson when he had said he would be safe; there was honesty in the doctor’s eyes that couldn’t be faked. Granted, he also saw a drive to understand something he found fascinating, which was kind of creepy, but he didn’t see cruelty. Zane settled back into his chair and waited for the explanation he’d wanted for years.
Dr. Stevenson leaned back in his seat. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. I think your DNA was altered.”
“Okay. That happens all the time now, right?” Zane didn’t see what the big deal was.
Dr. Stevenson nodded. “In a sense, yes. We can decide a person’s physical attributes before they are born and remove some genes that are predecessors for certain diseases. However, your genetic alteration goes much deeper than that.” He paused as he thought over how to explain. He must have come to some sort of conclusion because the doctor’s face cleared, and he looked directly into Zane’s eyes. “Someone has added inhuman genes into your DNA.”
Zane was thrown back into a memory that he never wanted to live again, but the smell of alcohol and disinfectant dragged him under. He was in a flimsy cotton nightgown, feeling utterly exposed and scared as he held onto a robotic puppy for security. The little dog barking and wagging its tail was the only good part of the memory; it was the only thing that kept him sane.
He was supposed to be saved that day, but that dream had been crushed as easily as an old tin can. “Zane,” they told him, “we think you are the most beautiful, kind-spirited little boy there is. I’m so sorry, but we cannot afford to take on your medical condition.”
“Why? What’s wrong with me?” Zane whined.
“The doctors found a few anomalies in your genetic coding.”
He’d never heard that word before. “What’s an anomaly?”
“It just means
that you’re special. And you’ll need special medical care that we cannot afford.”
“I don’t understand,” he whispered.
“You’ll need special care, and we want you to have the best life you can, which means waiting for someone who can meet all of your needs.”
At the age of six, Zane learned life was totally unfair. He’d never seen any visible symptom of this so-called condition in the past thirteen years of his life, but here it was in front of him again. The only thing he wanted to keep from that memory was the puppy, which was a ridiculous notion. Zane rationalized his attachment to a robotic puppy as his six-year-old mind coping in the only way it knew how, imposing his need for someone to care for him onto anything, even a lifeless object.
When Zane finally refocused, Dr. Stevenson’s eyes were alight with discovery.
“What does that mean exactly?”
Zane always knew deep down that he was different, but he never imagined he was a genetically-altered freak. This was the reason for his anomaly? The reason he wasn’t adopted? Maybe why he was abandoned to begin with?
Thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of thunderous activity. If Zane were a more normal person, he would probably have screamed in rage.
“Well, I don’t have all the answers yet.” The doctor spread his hands wide.
Zane shook his head and finally voiced some of his thoughts. “I was turned down for adoption because the doctors thought I had an anomaly that would cost lots of money to fix. What a joke.”
The excitement in Dr. Stevenson’s eyes died down a little bit at the reminder of his childhood. Zane knew he was concerned with his welfare and not just his discovery of a new type of genetic alteration, but it was still odd being looked at like a miracle. “I’m sorry, Zane. They were wrong. But it was probably hidden intentionally. In fact, it’s probably why you’re an unknown.” Dr. Stevenson began patting his jacket pocket, as if he was looking for something. “Would you allow me take some more blood samples and conduct a few more tests?”
Zane wasn’t sure what he wanted, whether he should forget this entire conversation and go back to being a semi-normal person or explore who he truly was. He wasn’t one to hide from difficult things, but what if he didn’t like what he found out?
Clearly sensing Zane’s internal debate, Dr. Stevenson added, “It will help me determine exactly what has been added into your DNA. And I’m going to do everything I can to find out who did this. It may even lead me to your parents.”
Yeah, he would like to have a nice long talk with whoever had done this to him, but he desperately hoped this person and his parents weren’t one and the same. Hesitantly, Zane agreed. “Okay.”
Dr. Stevenson’s techiwatch began beeping an urgent message, halting their conversation. He looked down and with a frown read the message. He quickly jumped up, knocking his chair over. “I’m sorry, Zane, but I’ve got an emergency down at the SpacePort. We’ll talk again soon.” He grabbed his bag and ran from the office. Zane had never seen the doctor so flustered or in such a hurry.
Zane’s tumultuous thoughts were torn from his inner drama to what could have caused the doctor to leave in such a hurry. It took a moment before the words sank in. In horror, he remembered that Aurora was training at the SpacePort.
AURORA
The sky was perfectly clear this high up, and Aurora had to look down to see the cirrus clouds that dotted the lower atmosphere. She was cruising at twenty-five thousand feet, and the world seemed like such a small place from this viewpoint. The towering buildings that covered the ground blurred away in patches of gray. Up here, just as she’d always hoped, she felt completely free. She could go anywhere, and nothing would tie her down.
So far the flight was going smoothly, but she should have known that wouldn’t last. She was almost finished with her training for the day and was taking a few moments to enjoy the view. She’d left the autopilot disengaged for the majority of the flight in order to manually recover from all the emergency procedures she had been told to simulate. She wasn’t actually experiencing a real emergency because that would be too dangerous, but she was following the procedures as if she really had.
The XT-101 performed beautifully with only the slightest touch on the joystick. Sitting inside such a powerful machine that was pushing her forward at four hundred miles an hour was invigorating.
Aurora was thankful that no one had yet designed an autopilot or artificially intelligent pilot program that was one hundred percent reliable. She couldn’t imagine a time when aircraft would be flown without a live pilot, like the driverless hovercars.
Sky’s voice boomed over her headset. “November Five Five Niner Tango Charlie, climb and maintain FL 420.”
“Roger, FL 420.” She pushed the throttles full forward, pitched the nose of the aircraft up into an eight thousand feet-per-minute ascent. The engines thrust her back into her seat. The Gs on her body were comforting because her flight suit allowed her to maneuver with no ill effects. She couldn’t help but laugh in delight.
She leveled the aircraft off as she reached her designated altitude of forty-two thousand feet and cruised straight and level, waiting further instructions. The only things she heard were the slight sounds of the engines humming behind her and her constant breathing through her mask. She felt totally alone up here but in a way that was refreshing. There was a sort of freedom in being so far away from the prying eyes that watched her. Up here she was confident. The desire to continue her ascent right on out of the atmosphere so close above her was overwhelming.
Despite her straying thoughts, she kept up her constant scan of her primary instruments that were displayed not only on the glass instrument panel before her, but also on her heads up display in order to maintain situational awareness. Everything looked in order.
Interrupting her comfortable solitude, Sky’s voice came again over her headset. “N559TC, climb and maintain FL 550.”
Aurora was a little uncomfortable with this new altitude directive, but she increased her speed and pulled the nose of the aircraft up. Usually for safety a pilot above fifty-five thousand feet would need to be in a pressurized suit, but she knew she wouldn’t cross the sixty-two thousand foot Armstrong Line, where her blood would boil without the suit. She considered questioning Sky, but really she had no choice other than to complete the exercise. It was a high-altitude training unit meant to test her abilities.
Aurora was very careful to ensure that she maintained the best airspeed and angle of attack for her ascent. She was entering the extreme limits for the aircraft and was brushing the threshold of stall territory with this higher altitude.
“Roger, N559TC up to FL 550,” Aurora confirmed when she leveled off again. They really needed to give call signs before graduation. She couldn’t imagine spitting out November Five Five Niner Tango Charlie for the next year and a half.
Aurora left thoughts of call signs and concentrated on maintaining the proper airspeed, trying to keep from getting too close to the XT-101’s stall speed. From her studies, she knew that she was trying to fly in conditions very close to what was known as Coffin Corner. The flight controls at this altitude were so sensitive that Aurora had to barely put pressure on the joystick to change pitch. In fact, she should probably place the aircraft on auto-pilot, but that would defeat the point of her lesson. She needed to prove to herself and everyone else that she was capable of handling the aircraft without help.
She was so focused on her main instruments that it took her a second to understand the yellow warning light that began flashing in her peripheral vision. Once the light registered, she looked over to see what was causing it. Just a cautionary alarm indicating that the aircraft had lost touch with the ground pilot system. It wasn’t anything to get too worried about because she would only need the UAV to take over if she were unable to handle an emergency situation.
Although the warning was not a dire one, it was standard procedure to notify someone of the situation. Her partner probably saw the
exact same warning flashing on his screens below, but she needed to maintain communication with him.
“N559TC Ground, I’m getting a warning that the UAV is off-line.”
“Roger that, N559TC. I have the same warning. Stand by. I’m determining the cause of the malfunction.”
While she waited to hear back from Sky, Aurora scanned her instruments, trying to find an indication as to what caused the failure.
She blinked her eyes. The edges of her vision seemed a little blurry, and her focus was too narrow, as if she were in a hallway looking toward a fixed point. Everything around her was dark and distorted, but her focal point remained clear. She shook her head. She thought she noticed her electronic display of instruments on her HUD beginning to significantly dim.
Her UAV link and now her instrument display were going out? “N559TC Ground, there must be some sort of an electric failure. My instrument panel is dimming.”
This wasn’t going to be good. She needed her instrument panel functioning properly in order to maintain her precarious position. This had better not be a part of her training; she wasn’t supposed to be put in any real danger. She needed to descend, but before Aurora could request a lower altitude, her instrument panel blared multiple red warnings right before everything blinked out.
With her instrument panel no longer functioning on her HUD, she tried to focus on the instrument panel displayed on the glass screen in front of her, but again focusing was difficult and her breathing felt laborious. With a squealing hiss, her oxygen unit quit pumping air into her lungs and in horror she realized that she wouldn’t have any air to breathe this high up. Her hands went ice cold. She’d only have a few more seconds to take action before—
“Mayday, mayday,” she choked out. “Experiencing a major electrical failure and loss of oxygen. Get the UAV link back up before I black out.”
With shaking hands, she yanked the mask off her face because it was inhibiting her sight. She tried taking a breath, but the air was just too thin, and coldness swept over her body. She quickly breathed in and out, trying to get enough oxygen to her brain.
The Apollo Academy Page 13