by CJ East
“What do you want to happen?” he continued. “I want to go to complete my training, go to Mars.” he stopped. That was the script from last time. What did he want this time? “I want my body to heal and rejoin my peers at the Colony.” Good enough, he thought.
He sat the dagger on the table, its gilded hilt towards him. Now for the final stage. Construct a safe framework for the dream you control - a well written script. He began to the think of the farm when she interrupted his thoughts again.
He felt the feminine presence again. A strange impression of someone leaning over your shoulder. “Kinch, you simply must listen. You are exposing yourself to grave danger with your mind open and unprotected. Please stop and listen to my warning.”
He leaned into the table, trying to block the voice. He recited the training. “Ignore the distractions and concentrate on.”
“You will listen to me or you will die!” her voice roared.
He flinched at a force much stronger than her previous outburst, blunt and heavy, slamming into his mind like a white avalanche crashing through a forest. The impact stunned his senses, blinding him with sudden white light. His ears rang. His extremities shook with tension.
It was silent. He peeked inside his thoughts for her voice again. She demanded his attention, and she had it.
“I truly apologize for my aggression, Cullum McGrath. Please forgive me,” the now gentle voice lamented.
He looked to the left and right. He placed the first two fingers on his right hand to his temple and rubbed in a circular motion, a nervous habit of his. “No problem,” he said aloud to the empty room. ““You can call me Kinch. I assumed I would be less formal when talking to myself.”
“Thank you Kinch. I assure you this is not a conversation with yourself. You may call me Amica. You have placed yourself in a great danger of which you seem to be unaware. I am one of the Coccino of the Small Dome. You have met some of our Elders, or at least they have met you.”
Kinch closed his eyes and rubbed his temple slower and harder. Could he let this rogue dream run roughshod over him?
She continued with a hint of displeasure, “I assure you we are very real, Kinch, as real as you are. We were able to feel your thoughts. Your mind portal is open to all whom wish to enter and examine your innermost secrets. This openness is not modest, prudent, or safe. The tonic you were given has amplified your mind and broadcast it for all to enter.”
“The Neuromorphine?” Kinch thought. “This couldn’t be true.”
“I attest to you it is true, Kinch,” Amica implored. “Please listen and do as I say. Timeliness is my primary concern. You must close the door to your mind for your own protection. Close your eyes, concentrate, and listen to me, you haven’t much time.”
Kinch raised his other hand and pressed hard into both temples. “Amica? I’m going out on a limb here. Let’s take this slow as I try to sort everything out.”
“I accept you do not understand, but you must trust me. I fear we may be too late. Now, with your eyes closed, rub your eyelids with your fingers. Quickly. Do not hesitate. In the darkness you see the two burning spheres, do you not?”
Kinch moved his fingers to his closed eyes and began to massage them in slow rotation. In the middle of his vision glowed the two circles. He had seen them before with little interest. “Locked on.”
Amica reassured him. “Good, you are doing well. You need not answer, your inner voice is very loud - I hear you. Focus on the two spheres and force them to merge into one circle. Excellent, I can see them merging into one stronger circle. Now concentrate on shrinking the circle. This will seal the portal to your mind and protect you.”
Kinch saw the fiery sphere start to contract. He concentrated on squeezing it with his thoughts as the circle started to close. The portal seemed pliant. He focused, and the sphere contracted. When he relaxed, the elastic edges snapped open.
“Good, Kinch. Keep going. Concentrate on the very center now, not on the edges.” A rush of excitement tinged her words.
Kinch strained forward in his chair. He buried a fist into his hand and pressed until his arms shook. His nose flared and his lips clenched as the tiny circle tightened slower and with more difficulty.
A sound like a distant explosion reverberated. Amica rejoined with a new urgency and not a small amount of fear. “Keep going. You must not delay. I have to leave now. It is no longer safe. Do not stop for any reason until your portal is closed. When it does close, you will hear a word. This is your key. Only you can hear it. Remember your key, Kinch. Good bye.”
The portal shrank into a small hollow ball as he felt the presence of Amica depart, like someone taking their hand off his shoulder. Another presence pushed forward like faraway rolling thunder. It charged with force and danger, invading his mind. It grew in volume, stronger and more intense. He leaned into the closing circle with renewed seriousness, envisioning it being closed.
The approaching sound became intense and visceral, like standing near the tracks as a train brought the sound, speed, and vibration of immense power. He heard a malevolent growl closer and clearer. He concentrated on the now tiny burning portal. It grew more intense in an orange brightness the smaller it became.
He held his breath and leaned forward until his head hit his knees. He leaned into the circle with his body and soul. A sensation of imminent dread approaching. The thunder advanced, shaking Kinch’s body. His face vibrated as he exhaled a labored groan, exhausted. The tiny red dot quivered, pulsed into a huge orange explosion, and disappeared.
“Eyasha,” a long whisper echoed as his portal closed with a brief and beautiful silence. A calmness came over him and replaced every sound except for his labored breathing. He leaned back in the chair and opened his eyes. He had pushed himself a considerable distance from the table in his struggle. He inspected the white room. Everything was still.
A thundering explosion erupted in what seemed like an adjacent room. A successive explosion physically shook the table. A series of rapid banging echoed like the violence of a madman raging against an asylum door. He leapt to his feet as a feeling of danger washed over him. His body tensed, anticipating violence. The banging continued as he spun around trying to discern the source or direction. He paused as he realized this rage was also inside his head.
It continued for a few more blows. It stopped with the trailing echoes of the last boom. Silence came again. Kinch noticed he had moved to the middle of the room. He was in a defensive combat stance - feet staggered, knees bent, hips square and fists locked. He exhaled and let his arms fall to his sides as he walked over to the chair, moved it to the table, and sat down.
“They didn’t cover this in training.”
Awakenings
Kinch awoke to a harsh burning light. His eyes blinked open as if for the first time. He squinted, finding he could not move his hands to shield his face. As the sensitivity to the light faded, he recognized the few medical machines of the infirmary. The bed inclined at his waist giving him a good vantage point of the focusing room.
The room was a long, wide hallway carved by removing the natural basalt columns formed from the lava plug of a dormant volcano. The International Mars Colony was carved by robotic excavators years ago, burrowing through the vertical honeycombed tubes of volcanic basalt.
His body didn’t respond to the attempt to move his head. He strained to speak and managed a futile groan.
He heard a girl’s whisper. “Kinch? Kinch! Are you awake?”
He moved his eyes to the sound of the voice. There, a girl’s tennis shoes, crossed at her ankles, shifted in the corner of his eye. She leapt up and threw her head on his chest.
“Oh, Kinch! You are awake!” Sashenka said in her thick Russian accent. Her head popped up and searched his face. “Can you hear me? Do you hurt? Can you speak?” She fired in rapid succession with no possible time for a response.
Kinch soaked in her presence with relief. He knew Sashenka would be waiting for him. She glowed wi
th anticipation. Her eyes were wide and alert, darting over his face studying every signal. He clinched his teeth trying to move his mouth. His lips felt like someone else’s. His tongue seemed too big and cumbersome for his mouth.
Sashenka’s brow lowered and her mouth mimicked the movement of Kinch’s puckered mouth like an attentive young mother feeding her toddler with a spoon. Kinch forced a smile.
A stark expression of concern stole the color from her face as Kinch struggled. She bent over him and whispered, “Everything is fine. Don’t try too hard. There is no hurry.” She pulled his hand down to hers.
“Did.” Kinch whispered in a gravelly croak.
Sashenka’s eyes widened. She watched his mouth, hanging on every movement and sound.
“Did TED made it back alive?”
Tears flooded her eyes and flowed down her blushing face. She leaned forward and placed a playful kiss on his forehead. “This is the first time one of your awful jokes has made me happy.” Her eyes burned into his with joy.
She looked up with a distant expression. “Wait here, I will get Pushpa…” She jogged through the door and called, “Dr. Singh! Grace, come quickly!”
Kinch tried to move his fingers. “Where am I going to go?” He stared at his unresponsive hand Sashenka placed on his chest.
Grace Chen was the first person to rush into the room. She beamed a large smile on her young, Chinese face as she floated in front of his bed and circled to his side. She didn’t say a word but turned to the machine next to his bed. He heard the women talking in hushed whispers before they entered the room.
Sashenka gushed to the women. “See? You see? He is awake and can speak! He made a stupid joke. It is a miracle.”
Dr. Singh stopped at the foot of the bed and crossed her arms with a playful smile. “A stupid joke from Mr. McGrath is far away from a miracle. I do see our friend has returned to us from his long slumber. And how are you feeling, Kinch?”
“Feeling like I want to get out of this bed.” Kinch contorted his face into a wince. “You must have me pretty doped up, Doc, I can’t even move.”
Pushpa unfolded her arms, walking to Grace Chen and peering over her shoulder at the medical dashboard. Grace heard her approach and offered the information she sought. “Doctor, brain activity is trending downward, but still elevated.” Dr. Singh sat gave a long, thoughtful gaze to Kinch. She sat on the side of the bed.
“I’m going to be straightforward with you Mr. McGrath. You did not look attractive when Colonel Sullivan delivered you to us. The cable almost split you into two halves. A compound fracture, punctured lung, cerebral edema were our main concerns.” She paused giving him time to understand as her expression softened.
“You have been unconscious for over three months. We have administered growth supplements for bone and muscle mass as well as electrode stimulation to all major muscle groups. Your body has almost recovered. In fact, you have added mass and grown stronger.”
Kinch looked down his body. His chest did seem thicker. “Three months? It seemed like I’ve been out for five minutes.”
Pushpa nodded. “There were many issues as I have mentioned. The challenge we are having is the intra-cranial pressure, or the swelling of the brain. Your brain activity was dormant in the more primitive, motor skills areas. It was concerning to me. Areas not normally used were unnaturally high in activities, even for a Neuromorphine session.”
“So what does all this mean? My motor skills being dormant?” He asked
“I believe your brain was damaged and repairing itself.” Her voice lowered, a tenseness in her lip betraying her concern. “The high growth activity in new, unused areas of your brain indicates your neural pathways are building new routes to repair the damage, much like how one would reroute travel around a traffic accident to reach one’s destination. Do you follow? It will be taking some time for the recovery so soon after regaining consciousness...”
“How long?” Kinch interrupted.
“It is not possible to say.” Dr. Singh said in her rhythmic Indian cadence. She hid a painful expression under her professionalism. “Some brain injuries are having hours or days, others are having weeks or months. It is a positive signal your brain activity is on a downward trend to normal. Kinch, you have a good chance at a full recovery.”
Kinch lowered his gaze. A silence filled the room, hanging over his bed. He turned Pushpa’s words over and over in his head.
Rumors of War
A pair of heavy boots stomped confidence down the hall and into the infirmary. “Well, good morning Sunshine!” Colonel Tom Sullivan bellowed with a huge grin. His flattop boxed his ginger hair at sharp right angles completing the geometry of his squared jaw.
Dr. Singh delivered Sully a cold glare. “I have heard it said, good news travels fast. This news has traveled quickly indeed.”
“Well, this is outstanding news, Dr. Singh.” Sully flashed a polite smile with a nod of deference.
Pushpa always got on well with Sully, thought Kinch. Something is up.
Sully stopped a few feet from Dr. Singh, peered at the boy, then turned back to Pushpa. He asked in a low whisper, “How much has the patient been told, Doctor?”
“Mr. McGrath has been briefed on his situation. He has not had the opportunity for asking questions.” She continued in a dry, professional manner.
Sully turned his attention back to Kinch and assessed him like one of his Oklahoma horses he loved to tell stories about. “The boy is a quick study and I expect he can fill in the gaps as he goes. Would you ladies be so kind as to give us a moment alone? I need bring him up to speed on how his beloved Indianapolis Colts played the worst season in NFL history. I’d hate for you ladies to witness all of his bitter tears.”
A subtle smile crossed Kinch’s face. Sully owned the gift of gab. The women surveyed Kinch with a protective hesitation, then turned and sauntered to the door in a reluctant protest. Sully projected a cheerful smile until they reached the door.
Kinch was ready with his first question when the Colonel’s attention snapped back. “You must be carrying a heavy burden to drop such a load of crap, Sully. Considering the Colts folded three years ago and it is baseball season. What is it? I’m not going to walk?”
“Slow down, boy,” Sully smiled. “Singh says you are going to recover better than ever. She’s a little riled at me at the present time for waking you up, but she’ll get over it as soon as you jump out of this rack and take on your new duties.”
“New duties?” Kinch asked. “You pulled me out of a coma because you are short-staffed?”
“That’s an affirmative. Very short-staffed,” he answered as he surveyed the outline of Kinch’s prostrate body. “Those advanced growth stimulants and supplements beefed you up quite well. You aren’t as scrawny as a few months ago. This may have even given you an advantage. We will need to get you some gym time and you’ll be full-tilt boogie.”
Kinch didn’t like be assessed like livestock by Sully’s critical gaze. He admired Sully, but the man’s political side angered him when he manipulated people. “Then cut the crap. What’s going on?”
Sully’s face grew stern, “Listen kid, you know I like you. Even though you are on the Google team and I’m leading team USA, I’ve never treated you any different if you were my direct report. So listen up. It hit the fan pretty hard while you were catching rack burn. Tensions escalated on Earth, and I was instructed to initiate a contingency plan to insure the security of United States interests here in the IMC. The contingency was to counter a Russian and Chinese alliance attempting to gain control of the IMC.”
Kinch stretched his neck to the side, his tense muscles burning. “Gain control of the colony? Earth wouldn’t allow it.”
Sully took a deep breath and held it, releasing with a thoughtful sigh, “We lost contact with Earth two weeks ago.”
He rocked back on the balls of his feet and scowled into the opposing wall. “There have been a number of incidents in the past few days i
ndicating the Sino-Russian alliance is executing a contingency strategic initiative.”
“You guys had plans for this?”
Colonel Sullivan swiveled an intense gaze at Kinch, “Battle lines are being drawn, Kinch. Wheels are in motion that cannot be stopped. My team has about a 30 percent chance of survivability as is. Curtis and I need to acquire assets. Your friend Chang is estimated at a 40% likelihood of rolling over to our side. Your other buddy Venkat is an 80 percent probability. I need you to bring them in.”
Kinch felt his shoulders tense at the command. He closed his hand into a shaky fist as he locked eyes with Sully. “And what is my percentage to sign on?”
Sully started with his ‘aw-shucks’ tone. “Well, you know how bean-counters are… You can’t quantify a percentage on a man doing the right thing for his country.”
“What is it Sully?” Kinch insisted.
“25 percent - now, not that you are a 75 percent to join the other side, mind you. The analysis was you wouldn’t pick a side until the window to influence the outcome closed. It appears you have some trust issues.” Sully frowned in thought.
“But damn it boy, this got real and things are moving fast. We are finding tactical supplies missing every hour. There is intimidation and coercion of free assets. You are well positioned to tip the balance. Your Grandfather is a founding member of the Warrior Guild and my friend. He made sure you are expertly trained in tactical combat and well-versed in military history. You don’t have much real combat experience, of course, but what you lack in experience you make up for in guts. Your country needs you, Kinch.”
“My country didn’t need me so much when I was washed out of their Mars program,” Kinch said. He regretted the words as they left his mouth.
“But you made the Google team, thanks to some pulled strings - you’re welcome by the way. And if you are wondering, there is no corporate contingency alliance. No one on your team will risk their neck for shares of stock.”
He scrutinized Kinch’s face, upset his appeal was not having the desired affect. “I don’t have to lecture you on the history of what Russia and China have done to their opponents after a coup d’etat.”