“This is also of interest, sir.” The tech trooper was examining a long table equipped with several microscopes. He pointed to some small, misshapen chunks laid out on metal trays. “These are all brain tissue samples, and all are in some sort of regenerative stage.”
“Get to the point,” the colonel said as he walked over to the table to take a look, his curiosity now piqued.
The tech trooper continued. “You can see that some of the samples are inactive, but some—.” He pointed to several that were hooked up to various machines via wires and electrodes. “Well, some seem to be active.”
“Active?” The colonel now listened raptly.
“Yes. Perhaps they were working on some form on neurogenesis: in other words, the reanimation of dead brain tissue. We have a limited capability to regenerate damaged, living tissue, but dead tissue—this is revolutionary.”
“I want all of this prepped for movement. It goes with us.”
Captain Cruwell followed the trail of puddles into the corridor. His excited voice made everyone turn toward a side door, left ajar. “There’s a footprint here!” he shouted. He ran back inside the laboratory elated at his discovery. “It’s barefoot, not one of ours,” he continued.
“A footprint? What?” the colonel replied confused.
Scotts and Matthias hurriedly made their way to the footprint and examined the tank again more closely.
“Colonel, these are indeed pieces of flesh. And here we have a handprint on this tank.” He indicated the side of the tank closest to the large puddle. “That evidence leads me to believe that there was a life-form in the tank,” Scotts said matter-of-factly.
“Perhaps they have some new healing technology?” the colonel said absently, more to himself than anyone else, as he stroked his stubbled chin.
The colonel walked purposefully over to lab coated prisoners sitting on the floor under armed guard. “What were you working on here? Tell Me!” said the colonel.
The prisoner looked up in the colonel’s face and uttered, “Go to Hell. We will never tell you anything.”
The colonel grabbed the prisoner by the throat and lifted him off the floor with one hand. The prisoner kicked his feet wildly and grasped the colonel’s gauntleted hands, trying in vain to free himself. The colonel squeezed with all of his might, crushing the man’s larynx, and lowered him slowly so that his feet again touched the floor. Within moments, the body went limp, and the colonel released his grasp. After wiping a bead of sweat from his face, the colonel turned to Cruwell and said, “Captain, secure the rest of this complex. The faster the better, but be thorough. We need to find out what they were doing here.” The colonel turned to the other prisoners, briefly contemplating another interrogation, but quickly lost interest. “And make sure these prisoners get topside. We will let the Auger-Seers pry what they will from their brains.”
“Yes, Colonel, understood.” Cruwell turned toward Sergeant Matthias and pointed to the three prisoners now sitting on the floor, with their hands bound behind their backs. “Take them up topside to the drop pod and prepare them for interrogation once we get into space. Start loading as much as can from the genetic labs also. See to it yourself.”
“Consider it done.” Sergeant Matthias motioned for the trooper guarding the prisoners to get them on their feet. He addressed the prisoners, looking them each in the eye. “I would suggest you cooperate. We have some rather terrifying methods to extract what we want.” The prisoners said nothing as Sergeant Matthias and the lone trooper escorted them to the surface.
Cruwell turned to the remaining troopers still in the laboratory, who were busy collecting samples from the tanks and removing lab equipment, tissue samples, memory drives, and main boards from the smashed computers.
“Careful with those samples,” he instructed. Cruwell did an abrupt about-face and strode out of the laboratory. Back out in the corridor, the captain walked up to Scotts and the colonel who were trying to manipulate the controls to open the sealed door. The sign above the corridor read “Testing”.
Scott’s was turning a large spanner set in the door, forcing it open slowly inch by inch. The door finally groaned open fully, the interior pitch black. Scott’s fished out a hand held torch from his assault vest and switched it on. What it revealed made him gasp. The room was nothing more than a metal walled rectangle, half the size of the genetics labs. Stacked in a large pile on the right side were at least twenty to thirty corpses wearing nothing but their underwear. From what Scott’s could see, each had a single bullet hole in the forehead.
Feeling nauseous, he stepped back and grabbed the far wall for support. The colonel stepped into the room and a second later a dim light illuminated the grisly scene. In addition to the pile of bodies, four bodies in various stages of dissection laid still on gurneys. While the genetics lab was relatively clean and orderly, this room had blood splatters on the wall. The air held the stench of death. Scott’s and Cruwell entered cautiously. Scott’s spied a video camera mounted on a tripod against the far wall, pointed at the corpse pile.
Scotts rewound the tape, the hit play. “Sir, you should see this,” he said. Scott’s backed up the video and hit play again as the colonel and Cruwell peered over his shoulder. There was no sound, but the image was clear. An underwear clad male stood in front of a smaller corpse pile, his arms at his side. An older looking technician produced a small pistol and fired, hitting him between the eyes. As soon as the body hit the floor, two lab technicians quickly picked him up and placed him on the gurney. After strapping the arms and legs down, they backed off. The older technician proceeded to inject a large syringe filled with a pink liquid into the body on the gurney. Within seconds it began to thrash and strain against its bonds. The video stopped abruptly.
“I don’t have any words for this,” the colonel said as his voice trailed off.
Eventually, the transport cart emerged into a vast cavern, carved from within the plateau itself and leading deep underground. Hundreds of rectangular storage containers were stacked along the walls; in addition, the cavern held construction equipment planned for use in the expansion of the base, which now was not very likely to occur. An open double door at the far end of cavern was manned by a squad of six heavily armed security officers. As the transport carts came to a halt, the elderly scientist got out, and the security leader approached him.
The pale, slime-coated figure had ceased its screaming, and it appeared it was no longer losing chunks of its fragile flesh. The figure was approximately six feet, four inches in height and appeared to weigh a bit more than two hundred pounds. The hairless body lacked visible reproductive organs. Numerous incisions across the chest cavity and the head had been stitched up, evidence of recent surgery. The facial features were unmistakably that of a human male. Chunks of flesh that had fallen off seemed to be regenerating, but in the commotion, no one noticed. Solid black eyes squinted at the bright lights in the cavern.
“Your shuttle is ready, Dr. Keitel. The pilots are already on board,” the security leader said in a quiet tone, so the others could not overhear.
“Of course, I understand,” Dr. Keitel replied. “I must go, do what you can to defend the base. I thought out here in fringe space we would have enough time, but I see I was wrong. No one must get out. Understand?” Dr. Keitel spoke rapidly, anxious to depart. The scientist got back into the transport cart, putting it in motion approaching a set of double doors.
Beyond the double doors, a long tunnel led upward to the surface, in a small clearing in the jungle. In the middle of the clearing sat a small, sleek silver craft capable of pulse-speed travel. The craft was camouflaged to be nearly invisible from the air.
Dr. Keitel supervised the loading of the hairless figure as it was helped inside by two technicians. Dr. Keitel noticed that he appeared to be moving mostly under its own power, with a minimal need for assistance, something he thought it would not be capable of this early. So far, this specimen had responded well to the solution and proce
dure. Dead tissue had been regenerated effectively. Most important was the brain. Most of the internal organs had been replaced with simpler, synthetic versions, the brain was the original. Parts of the body not deemed necessary were removed, such as the genitals. The two technicians came back out of the ship after getting the specimen inside. Dr. Keitel walked up behind them and brandished a small caliber pistol from within his white lab coat. He raised the pistol. Before either technician could react, Dr. Keitel shot them both with a pair of well- placed shots in the back of each one’s head, fired less two seconds apart. They died instantly. Another transport cart suddenly emerged from the depths of the complex, stopping just inside the entrance to the cavern. Dr.
Keitel’s young assistant saw the technicians’ bodies fall to the ground and cried out, “What are you doing?”
Dr. Keitel spun around, aiming his pistol at his assistant. “What is the meaning of this?” the young assistant cried out once more.
Dr. Keitel approached his assistant. “I am very sorry and deeply saddened by this, Seth, but I have no choice. We must protect our research, whatever the cost. This is much bigger than you or I could have imagined, and this solution we have now is the key.” Dr. Keitel now stood in front of the cart. He looked dispassionately at Seth, and fired a single shot which impacted him between the eyes. The body slumped forward against the dashboard of the cart. Dr. Keitel walked away, toward the shuttle. As he entered the shuttle, he took one last look at the bodies of the slain technicians. He closed the door to the shuttle. The engines began a slow, steady whine as the pilot increased power for liftoff.
“I am so sorry,” Dr. Keitel said to himself as the shuttle lifted off into space. He shook his head slowly, a genuine look of sadness on his face.
“OK, let’s get this thing out of here,” he said to the pilots. His seat was behind those of the pilot and copilot. He gingerly lowered a black case from his lap to the floor between his feet. He opened it slowly, revealing a dozen vials of his precious solution, packed tightly together. Smiling, he closed the lid and stowed the box under his seat. He looked out and window. Already the complex looked like a tiny speck on the desert planet’s surface.
The craft hurtled toward the relative safety of space. The hairless figure was seated in the rear of the craft. No special attempts had been made by the technicians to restrain it when it was led on board; only the life belt on the seat was utilized. Still, it managed to hold itself upright and steady against the motions of the shuttle.
The figure began to become cognizant of its surroundings. It observed the occupants of the front of the craft with keen interest as the craft rapidly gained altitude. It stored the data bombarding its senses, and it began to think of how to survive. It thought about quenching its ever-growing thirst. It could smell the flesh of the other three shuttle occupants. It vaguely recalled a time when it was a killer of men, firing weapons of flame, much like the scene it had just witnessed.
CHAPTER 6
“Has Lord Sabis transmitted a progress report?” The question penetrated the Auger-Seer’s mind. His master did not use his voice to speak; he no longer had a need for it. The Auger-Seer was deep underground beneath his temple in a giant rocky chamber, monitoring half a dozen Auger-Lords who were connected permanently to the consciousness of the ancient master. They were arranged in a circular pattern around a mist-filled globe on cobweb encrusted grav-beds hovering five feet off the ground. They constantly muttered and murmured incoherent thoughts their minds received from other Auger-Lords on the planet above and other locations throughout space. The Auger-Seers job was to make sense of these utterances and keep the master informed. The ancient master felt the fatigue of his years and had lost the energy to keep tabs on his minions long ago.
“Lord Sabis has confirmed that the doctor succeeded in completing his regenerative solution—”
“My solution. He completed only the human factor,” the master’s thought interjected.
“Of course, my master,” the Auger-Seer spoke aloud. Although he had been gifted certain powers of the mind, he was not yet capable of projecting his thoughts. “There is a complication. The doctor is escaping with his research. Admiral Raus was unable to stop him from leaving.”
“He will not escape in totality,” the master replied telepathically. “I underestimated the doctor, but it will work out in our favor. Soon he will arrive on a new world, and we can continue our expansion with our own legions, devoid of the humans above. The visions are become clearer. You must instruct Lord Sabis to compel Raus to go after the doctor.”
“Of course, my master. There is one more thing—the contingency plan in case Raus never made to the facility. The mercenary force I hired is approaching and they will carry out their orders.”
“That is of no longer of any consequence. They arrived too late. Inform Lord Sabis that The Emperor’s Fist is not to leave until that research facility is razed to the ground. I do not want any survivors, lest some remnant of the research survive and fall into unintended hands.”
“Of course, my master.” The telepathic link was severed. The Auger-Seer placed the palm of his gloved hand on the globe surrounded by the Auger-Lords. He shuddered briefly at the grotesque sight of them. Once vital beings, they were now just withered husks. Tubes snaked from where their eye sockets and mouths used to be, connected to the base of the globe that occasionally emitted a blast of steam.
A pulse of energy surged through him as the consciousness connected to him. He issued his commands, which were translated into psychoenergy and boosted across space to Lord Sabis, one of the six Auger-Lords who were similarly connected to the consciousness on board Admiral Raus’s flagship.
His commands were simple: “Destroy all ground forces and structures, and pursue the doctor.”
“We have a problem, colonel.” Static slightly obscured Matthias’s voice as it came over the tactical net.
“What is it, Matthias?” The colonel stood outside the complex, having just observed a small craft take off into space from within the forest. Its vapor trail remained visible as it streaked into the upper atmosphere.
“Our sniper team at the base of the plateau reports a small armored column heading this direction from across the desert.”
The colonel pondered this information as he stroked his chin. “What? Can you identify the force?”
After a brief pause, Matthias responded, “No sir. We cannot positively identify the column.”
“Interesting,” mused the colonel. “It seems another player may be seeking our prize. Very well. Recall all elements to Level One. If Captain Cruwell is ready, prep for liftoff.”
The colonel walked to the edge of the plateau, where he opened his helmet’s visor. Producing a set of binoculars, he scanned the area and soon spotted the approaching armored column.
“Matthias,” he said into his wrist communicator, contact Raus and see if he can track that craft that took off from the forest.”
“Understood.”
“Let’s get that door down!” Captain Cruwell yelled to his cutting team, which had nearly cut through the blast doors. “We’re running out of time! And watch your fire; stick to your zones!”
He watched as light appeared in small holes which formed into jagged cracks in the door. The team leader signaled to the others, and they put aside their torches. They put their shoulders into the door and pushed with all their might. With a loud boom, the cut out section of the blast doors fell to the ground with a deafening roar. The cutting team was shot down in seconds as a hail of small arms fire hit the assault force. At Cruwell’s signal, the rest of the team rushed forward and entered the vast cavern. They took positions behind any pieces of cover they could find. Cruwell could make out only five or six defenders, but they were doing a good job of keeping his element at bay. The defenders had a belt-fed projectile machine gun and were putting up a lot of fire.
Cruwell could not get all of his force inside. “We don’t have time for this,” he grumbled
. He moved around the rock of the cavern wall that provided his cover and brandished two frag grenades. Without hesitation, he charged toward the gun crew and threw both grenades perfectly at the stack of crates they used for cover. He rolled behind an earth mover fitted with a giant drill bit just as the grenades detonated. The blast destroyed the crate barricade and the machine gun, dazing the defenders. Before they could regain their composure, the assault element rushed them, gunning down the first defender who tried to stand up.
As they realized that their primary defense was out of commission, the small contingent of defenders dropped their weapons and raised their hands, resigning themselves to be prisoners of war rather than facing certain death in battle. Cruwell emerged from behind the earth mover determined to get answers.
“Where is the exit here?” he demanded of the nearest prisoners.
Hearing nothing he said, “I’ll ask one more time.” Cruwell slung his rifle over his shoulder and withdrew his pistol from its holster. He switched it on, and it emitted its characteristic low whine. Still, there was no answer.
Cruwell aimed the pistol at the nearest prisoner and fired. The man’s head exploded in a flash from the subatomic projectile, sending skull fragments and brain matter in a wide arc and onto some of his fellow prisoners. Cruwell stiffened briefly, in shock at what he had just done, executing a prisoner with no hesitation. After a few seconds, he snapped out of his trance.
“That blast door behind us leads to the surface,” a wavering voice spoke from the end of the line of prisoners. “But you will never catch them; they have an escape craft outside.”
“Thank you,” Cruwell said. He activated his wrist communicator. “Colonel, this is Cruwell. We have a situation down here.”
The static broke and the colonel’s voice came through. “Get your ass topside and prepare to repel an attack.”
Dawn of the Mad Page 6