REV- Renegades

by T. R. Harris

  “Come along, gentlemen,” said Cross. “Let’s get you settled in.”

  Zac stepped up to the senior officer. “Sir, the whole Temple of Light mission was a setup,” he announced. “It was a sham, designed for us to fail. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Qwin destroyed their own temple—”

  “Please, lieutenant, let’s save this subject for a future discussion,” Cross said, turning serious. “There’s a time and place for these things.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  The various buildings in the complex once had other functions, but now they served Cross and his medical team. Zac and Angus were led to the first of four buildings set within three long corridors that had been converted to barracks. The medical team lived at the site most of the time, parking their cars in the vast underground labyrinth and with only passive security on the outside. To the casual observer, the complex would appear to be mainly vacant, with only a token maintenance crew in attendance. That was intentional. This was a secret facility, and Cross was going to keep it that way.

  The huge, three-story barracks buildings were connected to the others by small walkways and segregated into individual rooms. The REVs were each given private suites, complete with separate bathrooms and sitting areas. There were no kitchens, so everyone had to eat at the communal mess hall. The medical staff—of which there were forty-eight—had shared rooms, two people for each. And much like the makeup of the staff at Camp Slater, there seemed to be eighty-percent females to males, with a noticeable predominance of good-looking women; young, healthy and vigorous. The security staff bunked in another part of the complex.

  Zac and Angus arrived on Earth with nothing except the clothing they wore. Not even a toothbrush had made the trip. To his relief, Zac found laid out on the bed three sets of khaki uniforms, a pair of white tennis shoes, two dark blue t-shirts and various other items of underwear and toiletries. Cross gave each man an hour to get settled in before he wanted to meet them at his office. He left a small diagram on how to get there and then left them alone.

  Zac stripped down and took a long, hot shower. The suite was by far the nicest accommodations he’d had in a while and he was going to make the most of it. He was hungry, but that would have to wait until after the meeting with Cross.

  As expected, the uniforms fit him to a tee; they even had the single gold bar of a 2nd Lieutenant already affixed. The tennis shoes looked a little odd with the casual uniform, but he didn’t complain. Forty-five minutes later he was out the door and exploring the complex on his way to the doctor’s office.

  The corridors were exceedingly large—forty-five feet across and ninety feet high. There was a maze of pipes and electrical conduits running along the ceiling, held in support brackets every twenty feet or so. The rough granite walls glistened with moisture and the asphalt roads were lined with tiny streams of constant runoff. It was cold in the huge chamber, but not excessively so. Zac found it refreshing.

  He followed the crude map to a long metal stairway that climbed up the side of the cavern to a doorway at the top covered by a peaked canvass awning. There was a star insignia on the awning, signifying that this had once been the office of the commanding general of the complex at one time during its long history. Cross hadn’t bothered changing out the insignia.

  Angus was waiting inside the anteroom, appearing just as impressed as was Zac when he entered. If anything, Cross liked his creature comforts, and this was obvious by the clean, modern look of his outer office. He’d spared no expense when designing the room. There were polished tile floors, soft, off-white walls with tasteful objets d'art placed on floating shelves, along with an assortment of futuristic furniture looking pristine and hardly used. A pleasant-looking, middle-aged receptionist sat at a large teak desk, behind a computer keyboard and video monitors fully integrated into the overall design of the room.

  The woman greeted Zac and told him Dr. Cross would be with them in a minute. She asked if he wanted something to drink. He declined.

  David Cross opened the door to his office a moment later, greeting the two REVs with a warm, genuine smile. Zac remembered the video conference he had with the doctor on the trip from Eliza-3 to Camp Slater, and the abrupt change of personality he witnessed. For all the time he’d known Cross he’d always come across as a nerd—brilliant, but goofy. In the blink of an eye, the man turned vicious and assertive, the forceful nature of his voice and demeanor a complete surprise. It had come on so suddenly and with conviction that Zac felt he was seeing the real Dr. David Cross for the first time, and his portrayal of the stereotypical nerdy scientist was just a façade. This would be Zac’s first face-to-face meeting with Cross since the revealing broadcast. He was curious to see if his hunch was right.

  “Gentlemen, please have a seat,” Cross offered. He moved behind his desk and leaned back in a high-backed leather chair, scanning the faces of the two senior REVs. “I have so much to learn from the two of you,” he said.

  “Forgive me, sir, but is this the time to talk about what happened on Iz’zar? It’s great that you want to study us, but right now we have all the known galaxy after us. Shouldn’t that be our priority?”

  “I understand your concern, lieutenant, but I can guarantee you’re safe here in the complex. And as I learn more about the process of the NT-4 mutation, I’ll be able to go to others and explain how unique you are, and how the last thing they would want to do is turn you over to the Antaere.”

  “But the whole thing was a setup, sir. We were played from beginning to end. We have to prove we didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?”

  Zac looked at Angus. They had discussed the subject at length during the trip to Earth. “General Smith,” Zac announced. “He’s the one who gave us the assignment. And he had to get the information from somewhere. I say we track him down and find out who told him about the Final Corollary.” Zac unbuttoned his shirt and pulled out a folded sheet of yellowed paper. He opened it and set it on Cross’s desk.

  “Is that what I think it is? And you had it stuffed inside your shirt this whole time…and folded. You know how rare this document is?”

  “I don’t think so, sir. I think it’s a forgery.”

  Cross took the sheet and scanned it. “You know I can’t read Antaere.”

  “It says all the believers of the Order will be treated equally at the Final Glory, the time of unification for all life in the universe,” Zac helped. “That’s the opposite of what we were told it would say. It was supposed to make the Antaere look like genocidal maniacs, bent on killing everyone but themselves at the time of the final unification. It was supposed to be the final nail in their coffin, proving to all their alien followers what the Antaere really think about them. It was supposed to turn all the colonies against them and to our side. Instead, this document makes everything out to be a kumbaya-moment of universal peace and love. And then about the temple, I swear to god we heard explosions going off—”

  “That was said to be buckling support members.”

  “Yeah, but it was a dome. There aren’t a lot of support beams holding it up. And Mike’s tiny airplane couldn’t have caused enough damage for the whole thing to collapse like that. You take that—plus how wrong the source was about the Corollary—and it all adds up to a setup. We’re innocent, sir, and we need to prove it.”

  Cross was shaking his head. “I haven’t heard from General Smith since he abandoned Camp Slater. And with how confusing things are in the Grid he could be anywhere.”

  “We have to try.”

  “And you will. Just not now.”

  “Bullshit…sir!”

  That look of steely strength returned to Cross’s face, the same as Zac had seen on the video screen aboard the transport ship to ES-6. This time, however, the doctor maintained his composure, even as his grey eyes bore into Zac’s.

  “We have priorities, lieutenant, and for the time being, I set them. Your job is to submit to all the damn tes
ting I deem necessary and for as long as I say. After I’ve squeezed every ounce of information from the two of you, then I might consider letting you go off on your quest for redemption, which will likely result in your getting caught and dealt with by others who don’t understand your true value. I cannot have that happen, not before I have my data. You’re too important. Is that understood?”

  “Perfectly, sir,” said Gunnery Sergeant Angus Price.

  “And you, Lieutenant Murphy?”

  “Yes, sir, but will you at least let us do research while we’re here? General Smith has to be somewhere.”

  “I will, once the panels begin. Right now, I need your undivided attention.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And speaking of the panels, they start tomorrow morning,” said Dr. Cross. “Unlike at Camp Slater, we will dispense with all the unnecessary military training and concentrate only on your medical condition. It’s vital that we establish baselines compared to the others—”

  “The others?” asked Zac. “I thought Gunnery Sergeants Ross and Johnson were stuck off-planet?”

  “They are. I refer to the other positives we have at the facility.”

  “What others…sir?”

  Cross appeared reluctant to answer. Then: “You’re going to find out eventually,” he said with a sigh. “We have six other REVs who have tested positive to natural NT-4.”

  Zac did the math in his head. There were only nine advanced REVs of Zac’s caliber—the 0351-Charlie’s. Five had been on his team, and with Mike Brickey and Arturo Garcia dead, that meant most of these new naturals had to come from the junior ranks.

  “That would mean the Bravos are testing positive.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But I thought the mutation was a result of prolonged use of the drug?”

  David Cross sighed. “And that’s why we need the studies, Mr. Murphy. At first, we thought it was tied to the dosage a subject has received over time. Now…not so much. It could be a combination of that, plus the body’s natural susceptibility to the mutation. To date, six of the Charlie’s have tested positive, leaving three who haven’t. All the subjects we have here—other than you two—are Bravos.”

  “What’s the youngest?” Angus asked.

  “Eight years, nine months in the program.”

  Zac had over fifteen years of NT-4 injections under his belt, yet here was a REV with a little more than half as many, and he was testing positive. That destroyed any of the previous theories regarding cause and effect. Considering this latest information, Zac decided to cut Cross some slack. He could understand how a man of the doctor’s intellect and longevity with the program would be desperate for answers. Was the mutation something nearly all REVs would eventually experience? If so, then that would change the program forever. And probably not for the better.

  “I understand now, sir. We’ll do our best to help.”

  “Good.” Cross stood. “Now, go find the mess hall and get something to eat.” He smiled, the nerdy scientist back once again. “As REVs, you’re always hungry, so eat up. It’s on the house.”

  10

  As the pair entered the open bay bottom floor of Building Nine—that served as the mess hall—Angus recognized one of the nurses from Camp Slater, sitting by herself. He hustled over with Zac in tow.

  “Sylvia, it’s great to see you.”

  The woman looked startled and embarrassed.

  “Angus, I…I didn’t know you would be here,” she stammered. “The last I heard you were out in the Grid somewhere.”

  “I’m here now. You remember Lt. Murphy, don’t you?”

  “Of course, sir. You’re Olivia’s friend. She’s here, too, by the way.”

  Zac felt his pulse quicken—a mild form of cascading for a REV. If there was anyone in the galaxy Zac considered he had a relationship with, it was the internist Olivia Contreras. They’d known each other for over four years, hooking up on occasion when the time was right. She was an amazing woman, and in another life, she would have been the one. But with his erratic REV lifestyle, a long-term relationship was out of the question.

  Angus gasped when he glanced down and saw the prominent bulge in Sylvia’s belly. She noticed his shocked expression.

  “Yeah, it came as a surprise to me, too,” she said.

  “Is it mine?” Angus blurted out, immediately embarrassed by his reaction.

  “Pretty sure,” Silvia said with sarcasm.

  “I thought…I thought we used protection.”

  “I did too, but I guess your REV-enhanced swimmers had other ideas. Don’t worry; Dr. Cross has offered to let me work here through the birth. He’s also setting up a support program for me and the others, including a monetary stipend and childcare.”

  “The others?” Zac asked.

  “Yeah, it seems that for the brief time you guys were at Camp Slater, you were busy. Six of the women are pregnant. Dr. Cross has all of us here.”

  Zac was afraid to ask, but Silvia could see the panic on his face. “Relax, lieutenant, Olivia isn’t one amongst the mothers-to-be.”

  Zac pursed his lips. He had no response, other than to point awkwardly toward the serving line, pause a moment, and then walk away. Angus slipped onto a seat across from Silvia. Zac would let them talk in private.

  So, Olivia was here; that suddenly changed his impression of the quasi-prison he found himself in. That also meant Dr. Arnie Patel might be here, as well. He had been Zac’s doctor aboard the battle-carrier Olympus at the time it was discovered his body was producing its own form of NT-4. Zac considered him a friend and a confidant. If he was here, Arnie could be a source of information, information Dr. Cross would be reluctant to disclose….

  Zac took a plate of various cooked meats to an empty table and dug in. He had to relax and accept things as they were. He was safe—at least for the moment—and as a REV, he was used to doctors poking and prodding his body. This would be no different. But Zac was also determined not to let his quest for innocence be placed on the back burner. All the answers in the world regarding his medical condition meant nothing if he remained a pariah to both his own people and all the alien races in the Grid. Although Zac wasn’t the most sensitive guy around, he still didn’t like being hated…by everyone.

  11

  The testing began early the next morning in Building Eight, next to the mess hall. Zac contributed every conceivable sample of bodily fluid he could, including blood, urine and even sperm. Then he was hooked up to a variety of electronic instruments to measure his heart, blood pressure, brainwaves and more. He was allowed a light lunch before hitting it again in the afternoon.

  During the day, Zac met a few of the other REVs in the facility, the Bravos who inexplicitly had begun producing their own NT-4. He didn’t know any of them, although they of knew him. For years, Zac Murphy had been held up as an example to many of the REVs who questioned their decision to join the program, especially after the mortality rate was disclosed. They’d say, “Look at Murphy. He’s been doing it a lot longer than you and he’s still going strong. Just live through the next mission—and the next—and pretty soon you’ll be just like him.”

  The men eyed him with suspicion—or what Zac took as suspicion. They seemed to be blaming him for their situation, either because of the Temple of Light incident or for the natural NT-4 in their blood stream. Zac shrugged it off. He knew neither was his fault.

  It took nine hours of constant testing before his day was over and he was dismissed.

  When he returned to his room, he found Olivia Contreras sitting on the floor of the hallway, waiting for him. They embraced warmly before entering his room.

  “So, we meet again?” she said without humor.

  “It’s almost like we were destined to be together.”

  Olivia sat in a utilitarian chair in the outer room, while Zac sat on the couch. Without a kitchen—or even a mini-refrigerator—he couldn’t offer her anything to drink. There was a moment of awkwardness before
Olivia started the conversation.

  “Has your system changed enough that they may let you live out a normal life from now on?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Zac replied. “But even if they did, until I get this Temple of Light thing sorted out, it would be a very short normal life, whatever the hell that means?”

  Olivia nodded. She had been at Camp Slater when the mission was first assigned, although he told her it was a shake-down assignment for his new team of REVs—the first of its kind. He didn’t tell her they were going out to potentially win the war for the good guys.

  Unfortunately, the mission turned out just the opposite.

  “How long have you been here?” he asked, trying to fill the silence.

  She blew out a big puff of air from her mouth. “Let’s see, a month…maybe. Arnie’s here—of course—as is that asshole Jack Diamond. He seems to think I like him. He won’t leave me alone.”

  “Now that I’m here, maybe he’ll back off,” said Zac with a wicked grin.

  “He outranks you, so don’t count on it.”

  Zac smiled. “Yeah, but I’m sure I can beat him in arm wrestling.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? I can handle him.” Her eyes locked on his. “So, it’s down to the same old question: Should we, or shouldn’t we?”

  “I say we do.” This time Zac’s smile was on the nasty side.

  “You know what I mean. This is more than just a physical thing, and each time you run off to change the universe—for good or bad—I’m left worrying about you, while realizing we really don’t have a future together.”

  “It’s different now, Olivia. Eventually, Cross is going to take all the blood samples he can, and he’ll let me go. And I’m bound and determined to clear my name of the temple debacle. After that, it’s adios Marines. They’ve taken about as much from me as I’m willing to give.”