REV

by T. R. Harris

  He set off in a light snowfall, towing the sled behind. He made good time over the twenty-mile hike. This was the farthest out he’d gone in a while; his wolf pack was territorial and stayed within ten miles or so of the cave. That was convenient. But now he enjoyed working his muscles harder. He wasn’t cold and the load was light for a REV. He was actually humming to himself when he reached the camp of the second REV.

  The man obviously hadn’t had time to get his act together. The supply crates were scattered chaotically in deep snow drifts, left where they fell after being pushed out the back of the shuttle the day before. The REV did manage to find the tent, which was now erected on a solid sheet of ice, with the glow from both the solar heater and lamp illuminating the interior.

  Zac stepped to within ten feet of the canvas shelter.

  “You in the tent! It’s Zac Murphy.”

  All the 351-Cs knew each other, if by name only.

  A shadow moved inside, and the zipper came down half way. A bald head appeared, highlighted by brilliant blue eyes, tight lips and a frown.

  “Murphy…there goes the bloody neighborhood.” The man’s eyes locked on Zac’s. “I thought you were dead.”

  “No hardly.” Zac looked around at the mess that was the camp. “Listen, mister, I’m in charge of maintaining the grounds around here, and I certainly can’t allow you to litter like this. I’m going to have to ask you to organize your camp better. Otherwise you’ll have to leave.”

  “Bite me. I kinda like it here. And you couldn’t kick me off this planet even if you tried.”

  The zipper came all the way down and the huge man stepped from the tent wearing a thick winter coat. Zac stepped up to him and they gave each other a heartfelt man-hug.

  “Staff Sergeant Angus Price, fancy meeting you here.”

  “That’s Gunnery Sergeant Price to you. I made E-7 about a year back.” The man’s thick cockney accent seemed more pronounced through the chattering of his teeth.

  “Congratulations,” Zac said. “I see your new stripe got you choice of duty station. Wait until you see the ski lodge. Hot totties and even hotter snow bunnies.”

  The smile vanished from Price’s face. “Seriously, gunny, let’s get back in the tent. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

  They crowded into the tent and Angus zipped it close. The tiny heater was working overtime and barely making a dent in the freezing temperature. Clouds of breath filled the air.

  Zac reached out a hand and ran it over the winter coat Price was wearing. “I didn’t get one of these in my welcome kit; I had to make my own.”

  “You do realize that thing stinks to high heaven.”

  “You’ll get used to it. I have one for you, too.”

  There was a cot in the tent. Angus pulled it to the center and the two men sat down, straddling it at both ends.

  “Okay, Zac, what the hell is going on?”

  “What did they tell you?”

  “Nothing! All I know I was pulled off my ship and put through a lot of tests. Arnie Patel—he was your doctor, wasn’t he—he did the tests. Then all of sudden I’m told I have new orders. I’m loaded on a ship and the next thing I know I’m being kicked out the back of a shuttle and up to my waist in snow. No explanation, no nothing, just a bunch of nervous looking sailors pointing guns at me as they tossed a bunch of crates out the back. Hell, I barely time to get away before being roasted by the lift-off jets.”

  Zac huddled near the heater, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He smiled. “Well my friend, have I got a story for you.”

  They spent the rest of the day with Zac relating the story of natural NT-4 and of events that led them both to become residents of beautiful and exotic Eliza-3. When he was done, Angus stared at him for a full thirty seconds, his jaw hanging slack. There were frown lines on his forehead.

  “And this natural NT-4 will keep us alive?”

  Zac knew his friend was concerned with the fear every REV lived with, that of their bodies burning up without the maintenance boosts.

  “It’s been over six months since I had a combat dose, and I’m still here.”

  “Yeah, but you’re different from the rest of us.”

  “Not really. You wouldn’t be here unless the same thing was happening to you. When was the last time you went on a Run or had a boost?”

  “It’s been over two months now, and that’s what’s worrying me.”

  “Relax buddy, I think your days of having to worry about getting your NT-4 fix are over.”

  Angus looked around the tent. “I hope you’re right, ‘cause we ain’t be gettin’ no Rev around here,” he said using his best American slang. Then he turned serious. “So they’re just going to leave us down here until they figure out what to do with us?”

  “It’s a test, Angus, a test to see if we can co-exist without killing each other.”

  “If that’s the case, then I’ll go first.”

  Zac snorted. “Getting cocky since you put on the extra stripe, aren’t you?”

  The smile vanished from the face of the huge Englishman. “And Manny…damn.”

  Zac shook his head. “I swear I don’t have any recollection of what happened.”

  “But they have a video?”

  Zac nodded. “You know we’ve never been held responsible for any psychotic breaks or for accidents during a Run. I think this is just more of the mind-games they’re playing.”

  Angus had a small stack of rations resting on the floor of the tent. He picked up two and handed one to Zac. A small flask of melted snow activated the packets.

  “So what now?”

  “First we cuddle here for the night and then head back to the cave in the morning. It’s a pretty sweet set-up, so we’ll be fine.”

  “For how long?”

  “That, Gunnery Sergeant Price, is the million-dollar question.”

  “I thought it was the six-four thousand dollar question?”

  “That’s in adjusted-dollars, my friend. You really do need to keep up with current affairs.”

  Angus was impressed with Zac’s cave once they returned the next afternoon, towing an overloaded sled with a new supply of rations. They would be welcome, if unnecessary. It was always good to vary a diet, and a helping of even processed mash potatoes and gravy would hit the spot.

  A few days later—after Angus became a little more acclimated to the weather—Zac took him hunting with the wolf pack. The skittish animals were weary of him at first, definitely apprehensive of the new alpha male and his strange smell. He stood back as Zac collected a double helping of hibernating rabbit before leading the nearly-frozen Englishman back to the cave.

  “Three months…amazing. You’ve done quite well for yourself,” he said as Zac expertly prepared the rabbits for the fire.

  “All I did was improvise, adapt and overcome. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

  “And the seasons changed almost overnight?”

  Zac nodded. Then he turned serious.

  “They let me know you were here with the sonic boom, which proves we’re under surveillance. They wouldn’t be watching us unless they have plans. Otherwise just let us rot.”

  “So it’s just a matter of time,” Angus said. He looked around the cave. “Shouldn’t be a problem. So what do you do around here for entertainment?”

  “I whittle a little.”

  “That’s it? Do you play chess?”

  “We don’t have a chess set.”

  “We can whittle one.”

  Zac grimaced. “It’s been years. Even then I wasn’t very good.”

  Angus flashed a wide smile, his blues eyes alight in the flickering camp fire. “Then we’ll play for money.”

  “We have no money either, unless you suggest we whittle that, too.”

  “I’ll take a marker. I’m sure you’re good for it.”

  When the second sonic boom came two weeks later—and much closer—Zac was relieved. He owed Angus twenty-four thousand a-dollars from
his chess losses. Maybe this new arrival would give Angus a better game.

  The shuttle dropped barely ten miles away; Zac hoped it didn’t scare his wolf pack away. They were a REVs best friend during winter on Eliza-3.

  Zac repeated the same story for the new arrival; another E-7, 351-Charlie, named Mike Brickey. He was a twelve-year veteran of the program, third in seniority to Zac. He had been put through the same routine as Angus, arriving confused and mad as a hornet.

  “This is crazy! There are three of us now…and we’re not tearing each other’s throats out. How much longer are they going to keep us here?”

  Zac smiled. Mike had only been on Eliza-3 for four days and already he was getting impatient.

  The next morning, Zac went out on the ledge outside the cave and began to yell. The other two REVs joined him, first out of curiosity, and then with understanding. They screamed and made obscene gestures for about fifteen minutes until they got bored and their throats raw. Three hours later they were at it again.

  For the next two weeks, when not hunting with the wolves or losing at chess to Angus, the REVs went through the same ritual. If anyone was watching they would get the message: Enough is enough! Let’s get on with it.

  The next time a shuttle landed, it came without sonic boom and set down in the clearing at the base of the mountainside below the cave. After the smoke cleared, a side hatch opened. Zac and the others took nothing with them, not even the animal-skin coats. They walked down the steps and into the waiting spacecraft.

  Thirty seconds later they were up and away, heading for space.

  It was always my hope that NT-4 would allow for increased abilities without the horrible side effects. It doesn’t look like this version of the drug will do it. In fact, we seem to be getting further away from that reality. I’m getting too old for this.

  Journal Entry, August 10, 2073, Dr. Clifford Slater

  15

  As Zac suspected, the shuttle—and the starship it docked with—were remotely piloted. No one was going to risk a crew with three REVs onboard, especially when they were producing their own version of NT-4.

  The transport ship was a Birmingham-class frigate that normally carried a crew of twenty-five, so Zac, Angus and Mike had plenty of room to move around. They also found a fully-stocked galley, ample water for long, hot showers and lockers with clean uniforms in their sizes.

  They showered, shaved and slept, and then on the third day out, a video screen flashed on in the small mess hall attached to the galley. All three men were there at the time, which told Zac they were being monitored.

  The always smiling face of Colonel David Cross gazed down at the seated trio.

  “Welcome, my friends,” the Marine doctor said jovially, as if greeting co-workers over for an informal dinner. “I’m glad to see you are all well.”

  Seeing the Marine officer only infuriated Zac more. It was his experiments which resulted in Manny’s death and left Zac stranded for three months on a savage world.

  “Excuse me, but what was all that crap about?”

  “You mean the planet?” Cross asked sincerely. Did he really not know what Zac was talking about? “It actually started out as people said, as a place to hold to you until we figured out a use for your new newfound abilities.”

  “Abilities, and what are those exactly, sir?”

  “That depends on who you talk to,” Cross said. “For me, it was your ability to survive without NT-4.”

  “You knew that before you sent me down,” Zac countered.

  Cross shrugged. “It was a theory, now confirmed.”

  “And we’re like that, too?” Angus asked. He still hadn’t bought into the idea of not needing maintenance boosts.

  “That’s what the tests confirmed…as far as your ability to produce natural NT-4. We’ll know more when you arrive at the camp.”

  “What camp?” Mike Brickey asked.

  “Camp Slater, a research and training facility on Silamon—you might know it as ES-6.”

  “Training facility?” Zac said. “Training for what?”

  “To become a team, gunny, what else?” Cross was beaming with pride. “I spent quite some time trying to convince the higher ups about the unique opportunity we have to create the most powerful and effective special operations unit ever. Never before have REVs been able to work in conjunction with one another. Image what you can do as a team.”

  Zac shook his head. “We’re not full REVs, colonel. You know that. We’re just a handful of men with a different kind of Rev in our systems, and not anywhere near combat strength.” Zac tensed. “I hope you’re not thinking about activating me again. I don’t think I’d like that very much.”

  Cross shook his head. “We’re not advocating that at all, sergeant. We would prefer if you operated on just the natural NT-4. It really is quite remarkable, something we envisioned the synthetic to be many years ago. Unfortunately, artificial NT-4 never allowed for the level of control we now see with the organic version.”

  “I’m glad I could help,” Zac said. “But aren’t you forgetting what Colonel Diamond said, that we can’t be allowed to think on our own? That would be too dangerous. What changed in three months?”

  “Diamond—and the others—were speaking from a position of ignorance. We have had more time to consider the possibilities. I assure you attitudes have changed. Now we have a second chance to study this mutation more closely. Have patience, gentlemen. As with most things having to do with you, we are learning as we go.”

  “That’s what you said the last time you jacked me up. What did you learn from that experience?”

  “I understand you’re bitter—”

  “I killed one of my best friends…and then was accused of doing it on purpose!”

  “I am working on getting the records expunged, sergeant.”

  “Thanks for that. Be sure to put in a good word for me at my courts martial.”

  “There will be no charges Sergeant Murphy. I assure you.”

  “And why should I trust you—”

  “How long until we get to Camp Slater?” Mike asked, stepping into the conversation in an attempt to defuse the flaring tempers.

  Cross continued to glare at Zac for a moment, before shifting his attention to Mike. “You have another six days. So try to relax. There are videos and books in the computer. There’s even a very challenging chess program for you, Sergeant Price.”

  Zac grew even more furious. So they did have a camera in the cave. And still they kept me on that planet for three months…and for no good reason.

  “Is there anything else, colonel?” Zac barked, tiring of the officer’s irritating voice.

  Cross’s expression changed. Gone was the goofy smile and giddiness, replaced now with a stern, square jaw and piercing gaze. Zac had never seen such a hard look from the lab geek before.

  “I will tell you when the conversation is over, Sergeant Murphy.” The voice was cold as ice. “You fail to understand that I’m on your side. You think I only see you—all of you—as just lab rats, good only for study. You’re wrong. I see so much more, so much potential for what you can become. I only wish to understand the process better, for all our sakes. So a little fucking gratitude would be nice…sergeant!”

  Zac was taken aback by the outburst. Here was another side to David Cross he didn’t know existed.

  “Forgive me, sir. I’m just tired and frustrated. I appreciate your help.”

  Cross didn’t back down. “That’s better,” he growled. “Now there is nothing more. I will see you on Silamon. Until then, try not to fuck anything up.”

  The screen went black.

  Mike and Angus were looking at him, stunned.

  “That went well,” Mike said. “Nothing like pissing off the inventor of Rev.”

  “Slater invented Rev,” Zac corrected, timidly.

  “Slater’s dead. All we have left is Cross, so play nice. We might live longer if you do.”

  Although their society is
based on a devote belief in their religion of the Order, the leadership of the Antaere is centered on the Zaphin bloodline, which can trace its origins back over two thousand years, to a time even before the introduction of their religion.

  High school textbook, Austin Unified School District, 2069

  16

  All ES worlds were nearly exact twins of Earth in terms of size, gravity, length-of-day and more. They also had the usual variety of climes. Camp Slater was located in a desert.

  Zac thought it appropriate. Over the last three months he’d experience tropical rainforest, harsh alpine winter and now desert. Why not? It keeps a person guessing.

  The remotely-piloted frigate came to a dusty landing in a wide valley expanding out from the confluence of two barren mountain ranges to the north. The three REVs where on the bridge, looking out the main viewport during the landing. As they descended, they spotted a row of Quonset huts with a larger building placed between them to the north. Farther south was what looked to be a firing range, along with other compounds housing a variety of other structures. Dirt roads ran between the components of the camp. No other settlements could be seen nearby.

  When the dust settled and the side hatch of the starship opened, Zac and the others stepped out into the brilliant light of mid-day on this world. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hot. This must be winter on this part of the planet. Still, it was a lot warmer than winter on Eliza-3. Zac pushed away his observations of the weather to concentrate on the two men who just climbed out of an open-air transport and were approaching the shuttle.

  One was a Marine officer—a major—while the other was a muscle-bound black man towering well-over six-feet tall and wearing the chevron of a master sergeant. He had the look of one: stern and confident. Zac and the others were wearing uniforms and covers; they saluted the officer.