Between Two Minds: Revelation

by D C Wright-Hammer

  The brakes of the transport truck squealed, and the gravel below crunched as the vehicle slid to a halt. Sierra jumped out of the truck bed and headed straight for the med bay where her crew had been taken. Once inside, she found a doctor.

  “Will they make it?”

  “Their numbers are low, but stable. We’ll know more once the decontam team gets back with a sample.”

  Sierra shook her head. “I’ve got a sample. I’m going to drop it off now.”

  She stormed off and went down the hall to the chemical weapons lab. Through the window, she saw a man in a white coat sitting at a computer. Behind him was a thick glass chamber used to analyze weapons and chemicals.

  As she walked through the door, the man in the white coat stood up, snapped on rubber gloves, and met her halfway. “You have something for me?”

  She nodded, pulled her pack around, and gave him the sealed canister.

  “Thanks. We should know more in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

  Sierra shrugged and walked away.

  The chemist waited for her to leave and went to work immediately. He put the bagged canister into a drawer in the front of the chamber and pushed it closed. He rolled off his rubber gloves and threw them in the garbage, then tapped the tag on his chest to begin recording and put his hands into the chamber gloves that allowed him to safely interact with the canister. Viewing the chamber through an ultra-definition monitor, he began his research by tearing the bag open.

  “Item number three-oh-six-oh-three-one. Description: weapon. Classification: chemical. Name: RPS-X2. Analysis: Canister is made of two pieces of crimped lacquered tinplate, likely for quick and cheap manufacturing.” He began to squint but then gave the chamber computer an instruction. “View finder, zoom in two times.”

  The image increased in size, and he continued describing the find. “The usual pin-activator is hanging from the top of the canister. We’ll need to pull that before we know more. Computer, lower the hook.”

  A mechanical arm appeared from above and extended down toward the weapon. He positioned the canister so that the ring attached to the pin was on the hook of the arm, and he pulled his hands out of the gloves.

  “Computer, prep for blast.”

  Intermittent clinks gave rise to metal plates that lined themselves along the interior of the chamber. The view finder was his only way to see inside.

  “Activate weapon in three…two…one…”

  The mechanical arm zipped up, bringing the pin with it. Seconds went by before anything happened. Finally, the canister puffed out a small cloud of yellow smoke, followed by a steady stream.

  “Computer, run initial analysis.”

  The chamber buzzed. “Initial analysis: Undetectable amount of unknown substance number one and unknown substance number two, undetectable amount of barbiturate derivative, opiate derivative, and chlorofluorocarbons.”

  The young chemist simply logged the analysis from the newly discovered weapon and provided his results to the medical team. But as the first scientist to get his hands on a canister of this nature, fate had a plan.

  He instantly became the resident expert of the latest chemical weapon used by the enemy, and top officials leaned on him to continue to serve. He’d initially joined the military for one tour. As the months and years went by, more and more canisters were found. Before he realized it, he’d been deployed for over two tours. It was then, nearly a decade after receiving the first canister from Sierra, that the final canister turned up and changed everything.

  Over the years, dozens of marines handed similar sealed bags to the chemist, and he just smiled and thanked them. But inside, each canister brought the chemist more and more anxiety. It all came to a head when he received a very particular canister, and he was forced to make a decision.

  With a benign expression, the chemist accepted this familiar bag and nodded to the marine to leave. When he was finally alone, his face immediately melted to reveal grave concern. He ran it through the analysis, sealed it in a new bag, and hurriedly walked to a large storage chamber on the other side of the lab labeled “Chemical Weapons.” He grabbed the hazmat suit off the wall and nervously put it on as fast as he could. He punched a code into the number pad next to the chamber door, and with a beep, click, and puff of cool air, the door popped opened slightly. The chemist gripped the door handle and stepped back to pull it open all the way. In doing so, an automated light turned on, revealing the airlock between the lab and the actual storage area. Walking in, he let the outer door close behind him and mindlessly grabbed the handle of the inner door before the air neutralizer had finished. He was disciplined by a loud buzz. Red light overtook the small space. Jumping back from the door, the chemist gathered himself before waiting the thirty seconds to try again. Finally, the airlocks turned white and then green, giving him permission to proceed. Stepping in quickly, the chemist rushed the several steps to the other side of the chamber to a large vertical refrigerator with a glass door and another code pad.

  The cooler had three rows of similar canisters, all with different labels of letters and numbers. The very first canister he’d analyzed nearly ten years prior was at the beginning of the top row. All the rows were filled except for the last one, which had exactly one space open in the bottom right-hand corner. It was as if he had expected this particular canister to complete the set.

  The chemist frantically typed on the code pad of the cooler, and it popped open. He looked down one last time, staring menacingly at the canister. He maniacally ripped it from its sealed bag and shoved it into its place, then stepped back slowly, letting the cooler door close on its own. He turned around and sprinted the few steps back toward the airlock. Exiting, he grabbed the large chamber door, slammed it, and then fell back against it. He sunk down, pulled the hazmat helmet off, and softly wept. The chilling recognition of what had been found on the latest mission was enough to turn the normally calm and collected man of science into an emotional wreck. In his fragile state, his mind raced not only between his past and his future, but also those of the war. He remembered years of experiments that he had run leading up to this night, hoping that the direction they were pointing to was somehow incorrect. The chemist was even more concerned about the outcome of the presentation that he had given to the other field scientists and high-ranking military officials just a couple of years prior.

  He’d said, “With each new canister, the RPS chemical weapons series has returned positive results for barbiturate and opiate derivatives in varying concentrations. There are other ingredients to increase the potency, which are needed given the airborne vehicle they’ve chosen. The only barrier to replication is the concealing agent they’ve implemented to obscure our analysis. Our latest trials are close, but it’ll take more time and canisters to be sure. Regardless, the enemy’s intent is clear, and it appears to be much more insidious than simply killing civilians and troops.”

  With the spotlight on him, the chemist had cleared his throat as the slightest hint of distress came over his face. “Once they’ve perfected the weapon, it’ll be capable of anesthetizing an adult male with as little as a microgram. This deep slumber, as we’ve dubbed it, places its subjects into a comatose state where the central nervous system is completely shut down and the heart rate is slowed. However, the most interesting and alarming aspect of the weapon is that higher brain function is almost entirely uninhibited. It can be manipulated with little or no risk to the patient in this state. This would enable the enemy to capture fully intact and alive specimens…prisoners…for interrogation and possibly experimentation.”

  The crowd had audibly shuttered before the chemist proceeded.

  “You’ve all undoubtedly read journal upon journal speculating on the exact goal of our enemy regarding this weapon. But their specific plan isn’t fully understood at this time. We’re doing additional research in that area to connect the dots, but suf
fice it to say that the implications are not good. That’s all for now. Thank you for your time.”

  The crowd had murmured as the chemist walked off the stage. He’d gone into his routine of gathering his bags and trying to squelch the morbid thoughts that always followed his speeches. He had every intention of going to lunch, but as he stood up, the light had been eclipsed by a colossal silhouette. His eyes focused to find a brawny military official standing before him with his massive hand extended.

  “Hello, Dr. Pearce. General Hammond.”

  The chemist had instantly gone on alert since high-ranking officials only talked to scientists when they needed something. With confidence, he’d shaken the general’s bear paw, even though the vice grip that it produced made him feel inferior.

  “Afternoon, General. How may I help you?”

  “Can I have a word with you in my office across the base?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  The general had led the way, and in just a few minutes, they were sitting down. With all the medals, plaques, and trophies throughout the office, it had seemed more like a museum than an office. Just as the scientist was settling in, the general had set the tone.

  “Nothing we discuss here today leaves this office. Understand?”

  Pearce had nodded, and the general turned his head up slightly.

  “In addition to advanced interrogation, what other purposes could this weapon have once it’s perfected?”

  Pearce’s eyebrow had gone up as he was somewhat taken aback by the question. As a result, he had to hypothesize out loud. “Well…I suppose, if modified slightly, it could replace many of the commonly used anesthetics. Optimistically, it could revolutionize surgery.”

  The general’s expression had remained unchanged. “Surgeries…like organ…replacement?”

  The answer should have been obvious, so the doctor had nodded and went along with it. “Yes, of course.

  “Can it be used for anything else?”

  Thinking hard, Dr. Pearce hadn’t been sure what the general was getting at. “Did you have something in mind, sir?”

  “If we put someone under with it, could we digitize their mind?”

  The shock of the question had instantly rattled the chemist. Although he knew that the digenetic field was picking up, he’d thought it was still years away from what the general was suggesting. “Digitize? A mind? I don’t understand.”

  The general’s impatience shone through. “Could someone’s innermost memories, thoughts…personality traits, be downloaded if they were put under with it?”

  The chemist had slowly shaken his head in disbelief and, again, tried to reason through it. “I mean, hypothetically, subjects given the correct dosage of the perfected formula would be in a favorable state to attempt to analyze their minds, if that’s what you’re asking. But my understanding is that we’d need several…many breakthroughs in that area to actually download the entire contents of a person’s brain. So, I would assume the answer is, not yet.”

  The general’s gargantuan mitt had grabbed his pronounced chin as he went into deep thought. After a moment, he’d nodded. “How far off is the enemy from perfecting the weapon?”

  Dr. Pearce had shrugged. “At the rate they’ve been modifying it, maybe four or five canisters. Could take them six months or a year. Maybe two. Possibly longer. Let’s just say I’m hoping this war is over before that happens.” He’d let out a nervous laugh.

  The general had only squinted at Dr. Pearce, like he’d told a bad joke. “From now on, when we find a new canister, I want the analysis forwarded to me immediately.”

  “Absolutely, sir, but I don’t see where this is going.”

  With ire, the general had stood up. “Doctor, our enemy is waging protracted psychological warfare against our troops and their own kind! I have every intention of fighting fire with fire, and our fire needs to be bigger and hotter!”

  Coming out of the memory, Dr. Pearce had the unsettling realization that once the military went down the same path as the enemy, there wasn’t any turning back. Any number of human rights violations could be committed with the perfected weapon, and while he knew that taking a job as a military chemist would mean compromising some of his morals, what he was being asked to research was pure evil. He quickly began to brainstorm ways he could compromise the canister to stop the progress of the assignment he’d been given. But he knew that if anyone found out, he’d be arrested. Or worse. Also, it would only delay their plan since another chemist would eventually figure it out.

  So, in that moment, Dr. Pearce made a decision. If he was going to help reverse engineer this weaponized sedative and there was a potential for it to be used for anything other than saving the troops, he’d want to get someone involved who had experience both with the brain and with data transfer, someone who he knew would do his best to keep things as ethical as possible. He pulled out his netphone and dialed. Seconds later, a voice responded.

  “This is Dr. Martin.”

  The chemist couldn’t hide the anxiety in his voice. “Doctor. It’s John Pearce.”

  “John, is everything okay?”

  “You need to get to Pakistan ASAP!”

  Chapter 1:

  Over and Out

  “You need to get to Pakistan ASAP!”

  “Sir, yes, sir. What are my orders?”

  “The best and brightest in their respective areas are being assembled into a super team to once and for all squelch the enemy presence in the mountainous region. You’ll be leading that team in all things stealth and infiltration. The role is of the utmost importance since they’ve perfected the new weapon against us. I don’t want any more POWs or MIAs happening on my watch.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  Getting off the phone with my old commanding officer, my instincts kicked in. I suited up in my trusty fatigues as my mind ran through how to get to the destination. As I put on my boots, I thought Sam might be able to help me the quickest, but Chris might be a little quieter about the whole situation. I’d need to take at least two planes. The first one would get me to the United Republic of Korea, and I would have to figure it out from there. Once on the ground, I knew exactly how I would bring the team up to speed in my area of expertise.

  The problem most marines had with stealth ops was that they would try too hard. Devoting too many mental cycles to infiltration usually caused one of two different problems. Most commonly, people tended to move too slowly, and the mission would stall. The likelihood of being detected goes up immensely with each minute that passes. On the other hand, some troops moved too haphazardly and believed their brawn would get them through if detected. Both mistakes were quick ways to early graves.

  Instead, stealth had to be second nature. Like a chameleon, you had to program yourself to immediately inherit the look and feel of your surroundings. Your breathing had to be in sync with the wind or ventilation system, and your movements had to be fluid as to not disturb the barometric pressure of the given space. The angles of all light sources had to be calculated to within a tenth of a degree, not only because you were hiding from the light, but because your shadow had to remain hidden as well.

  In thinking about how tough the mission was going to be, part of me knew it would be even harder to break the news to Sarah and the kids. But I knew it had to be done.

  I left the bedroom in full gear and headed down the hallway into the living room. Lucy and Joey were playing Sweet Treat World on the floor. They both looked older than I remembered. Sarah was putting in extra hours calculating a new bio-solution for work.

  I went straight toward Sarah. “Honey, there’s something we need to talk about.”

  Sarah turned her head slowly with a smile, appearing unusually happy to see me, then stood up from her chair and walked toward me. “What is it, babe?”

  I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her in the
eyes. “They’ve called me back into the war. I have to leave right now.”

  Her face initially scrunched up but softened just as quickly. “Well, Charlie. When duty calls, you have to answer.”

  She leaned in for the most passionate kiss we’d ever shared, and I hugged her tightly. I pulled back, shocked by her reaction. “Aren’t you mad that I have to go?”

  “Absolutely not, Charlie! We need more people like you to serve our country. Now, tell me. Where will you be spreading freedom this time?”

  For someone who was against the war from the very beginning, she was awfully supportive in that moment. I muttered, “Pakistan.”

  Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Ah yes! That country has been a mess since they began bringing troops home—since they brought you home. It’ll be good to get boots back on the ground, especially experienced boots like yours.”

  More than relieved, I hugged and kissed her again. Then, I turned my sights to Lucy and Joey.

  “Ah hah!” Joey got in the face of his sister. “I got a bubble gum card. I get to move six spaces!” He’d grown so much in the last couple of months. He was clearly winning at the game.

  Lucy frowned and pushed him. “Hey! That’s cheating! You’ve gotten a bubble gum card the last four games in a row!”

  I had to interrupt their fun to say goodbye. “Now, kids. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  They both dropped their game pieces and looked up at me with doe eyes.

  “Daddy has to go fight against the bad people across the world.”

  Lucy scowled, recalling my last deployment. “Will you be gone for years and years like last time?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think it will be that long.”