by T. R. Harris
“Better than Fowler,” said Zac, sarcastically. “He activated all on his own, and apparently over a girl.”
Cross looked at the shattered body of the young REV. “He always was borderline.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean, sir? If he was borderline, you made him that way.”
Zac recoiled from the look Cross gave him. It was back: the savage Dr. David Cross.
Cross turned to the gathering crowd of staff and REVs. “Get back to your quarters…all of you!” He addressed the senior guard next. “Clean up this mess, lieutenant, and get me a body count and identities. And lock down the facility, full security blackout. No one goes in or out until I say so.”
Angus was at Zac’s side, his face swollen and his mouth bloody. He tried to smile but grimaced instead.
“So that’s what it’s like being hit by a REV. We should go into prize-fighting, mate. There’s a lot more money in it than what we currently do for a living.”
14
All toll, twelve people died that day, including Staff Sergeant Steven Fowler. A few hours later, Lt. Zac Murphy bounded up the metal stairs to Cross’s office, angry and determined to get some answers. The secretary could read Zac’s body language. She didn’t protest when he opened the door to the doctor’s private office, but she did get on the intercom to warn him.
David Cross was pacing along the side of his desk, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for this, Murphy. I’m trying to keep the news from leaking out. If it does, it could kill the REV program.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” said Zac.
Cross glared at him. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ll survive without the maintenance sessions; almost two hundred others won’t. Is that what you want?”
Zac returned the angry look. “Cut the bullshit, Cross. You don’t give a damn about the REVs. All you want is to continue trying to create the perfect warrior. What happened to Fowler? How could he activate so easily?”
“He was always borderline. That was obvious during the electroshock sessions.”
“That doesn’t answer the question—”
“Watch it, lieutenant. I could already charge you with insubordination.”
“And then what, drum me out of the Corps? Please do. I’ve had enough.”
The two men stared at each other. Zac didn’t detect any fear of him from the doctor. Most people cowered from an angry REV. But not David Cross.
Eventually, Cross broke the gaze and sat in his chair, motioning for Zac to take a seat on the other side of the desk. “You want answers; I’ll do my best.”
Zac sat down. “Fowler?”
“It was his level of residual synthetic NT-4 combined with his natural production. He—as well as most of the other Bravos—are much closer to activation just as a baseline.”
“That doesn’t make sense. No one has more residual Rev in their system than I do. And combined with the natural NT-4, I’m sitting at around eighteen percent total. Fowler couldn’t have had more than that.”
“He didn’t, but his body wasn’t as conditioned for the additional level the natural drug produced. In recent years, your activation dosage had to be steadily increased, even before the natural NT-4 was discovered. You’ve been building up a tolerance to the drug that the younger REVs don’t have. When you add the natural NT-4 to the Bravo’s systems, you have the ingredients for the tragedy we just experienced.”
Zac absorbed the information, but all it did was raise more questions. “But why are the Bravos producing the natural version in the first place? Have their bodies had enough time to mutate?”
“Obviously they have,” Dr. Cross answered.
“But how…why?”
Zac was expecting an answer like we don’t know. Instead he was shocked by Cross’s next statement.
“It’s the new version of NT-4.”
Zac recoiled. “What new version?”
“We call it NT-4 (e). We’ve been working on it for the past year, essentially since we discovered what your body was doing.”
“You changed the formula?”
“That’s what I just said. It may come as a surprise to you, lieutenant, but NT-4 has gone through nine major modifications since it was first introduced. With so many iterations, the next variation will officially be designated NT-5.”
“Modifications? Is that why I mutated?”
“No, you came about it naturally.”
“And the Bravos…they’re being engineered?”
“In a way, yes.”
“Twelve people died today because of your engineering.”
Cross set his jaw as a vein pulsed in his neck. “That’s the cost of progress, lieutenant. If you haven’t noticed, the REV program is on its last legs. Unless we find a new use for the REVs, we will be shut down. And after that, do you think the suits in D.C. will care about what happens to the remaining REVs? The fact that they’ll all die off without maintenance sessions would be a convenient way for the whole matter to just fade away. Yet if more of the Bravos can be converted to naturals, then I’ll have something to justify the program’s continuation.”
“As long as they don’t go berserk and start killing everyone.”
“We’re still in the infancy stage of the naturals program. There will be safeguards employed.”
Zac was still angry. He understood the logic of Cross’s argument, but it seemed just another deceitful way the REVs were being used by the military.
“All you want is your perfect weapon. If Cliff Slater was still alive, it would be different.”
Crossed slapped the surface of the desk with his hand. “Now look who’s talking bullshit,” he yelled. “Slater was embarrassed and distraught over what the REVs had become—out-of-control killing machines, a danger to both friend and foe alike. That was never his vision for the program. All I’m trying to do is turn his true vision into reality.”
“By artificially inducing a dangerous mutation in dozens of young men, a mutation they have very little—if any—control over? It’s one thing for people like me and Angus to go through it; you said it yourself, we’re better conditioned to handle it. But not the younger guys. Isn’t that obvious?”
“Like I said, we’ll have safeguards in place.”
“Like what…neuro kill-switches, ready to fry their brains if they cascade to a certain level?”
“That’s one option.”
“And of course you won’t tell them.”
“That’s only until we can rework the formula where the precautions aren’t necessary.”
Zac laughed. “Slater must be rolling over in his grave at what you’ve done to his dream.”
“His dream?” Cross was red-faced with anger. “You speak of a dream. Well, do you know what Slater’s worst nightmare was? It was you, Zac Murphy. You were his greatest disappointment, his greatest failure.”
Zac knew Dr. Clifford Slater before his death. That was long before Zac began setting longevity records within the REV population. He had considered Slater a friend.
“Bullshit,” Zac said with little conviction.
Cross continued. “Even back then, we marveled at what little adverse effect the drug had on your system. We graded the REVs, so we knew early on that if you didn’t get yourself killed-in-action, NT-4 wouldn’t do it either. Your body thrived on the drug. And with each year you survived, and each successful mission you ran, Clifford’s dream slipped farther away. The military loved the simplicity of the program…the wind-them-up and let-them-go strategy. And you helped keep that alive. What I’m doing here is moving beyond that, to something greater, not only for the military, but for mankind. Let me explain more,” said Cross, his growing anger loosening his tongue.
“You mention engineered REVs,” he began. “It may come as a surprise to you, but all REVs have been engineered to one degree or the other. The elaborate screening process at the beginning isn’t reserved exclusively to finding those who can tolerate the drug, but rather who�
�s genome can be altered by it. We found out long ago that NT-4 is not a drug that can be used over time without severe consequences. The DNA of those using it must be modified for the drug to become effective. That’s also the only way a person can survive. You think it’s because of the residual amount of Rev lingering in your body that gives you the ability to withstand the destructive side effects of NT-4. That’s only part of it. The body must also mutate. With you, your body has mutated not only to the point where it can withstand stronger doses of the drug, but also to where its producing a substance that has the same general benefits—and negative consequences—of the synthetic. So, you see, Lieutenant Murphy, mutation within the REVs is something that’s necessary for them to survive. We help that along through specific modifications to the formula which affect the mitochondria in the body, as well as a vector device to introduce the gene-editing substances we need.
“But it goes beyond that. In the past, performance-enhancing drugs were all the rage, however, they were often illegal, dangerous and worked over a much longer duration. We needed something that would enhance the subject immediately upon introduction. There were products that could do that, but the human body couldn’t tolerate the sudden changes they produced. That’s where gene-editing comes in. During training, all those who advanced to the second phase are subjected to the process. You thought we were simply testing your tolerances to NT-4. Instead, we were modifying your DNA to accept it and to use the drug for its intended purpose. The bottom line, Mr. Murphy: REVs aren’t only a special breed of soldier…they are an altogether different breed of man.”
Cross leaned back in his chair, relief from the rant evident on his face.
Zac was stunned by the revelation, doubting if there were more than a dozen people in the world who knew what Cross had just told him. It put the REV program in a completely different light.
“I didn’t ask to have my DNA modified so I could become a mindless killing machine—”
“Of course you did! You volunteered, just like all the others. You knew what the REVs were when you signed up.”
“Only what we were told. You made it out to be some heroic career choice, the saviors of mankind against the alien threat.”
“And that you are…or were. Yet you were so wrapped up in the machismo of the moment that you didn’t look beyond the recruitment posters. The truth was out there; you just refused to see it.”
Zac was deflated. He was fighting forces greater than himself, and David Cross seemed to have all the answers. His body—and the bodies of all the REVs—had been irrevocably altered to where NT-4 was required for life. Indeed, it was life. He was also wise enough to understand the military and political ramifications of all that had happened, now and in the past. Everyone wanted their super weapons, be they inanimate or flesh-and-blood. Cross’s path led to the continuation of the REV program, with a new breed of mankind the end result. This had always been the destiny of the REVs. Zac Murphy was only now coming to realize it.
“So, this new formula of yours, how young can it convert a REV?”
Cross studied Zac’s face and saw the surrender within it.
“We’ve seen very slight production of natural NT-4 at just over seven years. It’s very rare, however. The majority of positives are in the eight- to ten-year range. Anything younger than that and they usually cascade over early in the testing. The optimal candidate is a Charlie, of course, but so far the other three haven’t mutated, at least not to your level.”
“I’m sure you’ll keep working on them until they do.”
Cross stared hard into Zac’s eyes. “So, what happens now, lieutenant? Are we going to keep having this debate, or are we going to move on and do our jobs?”
“And what exactly is my job, colonel?”
There was a long silence before Cross answered.
He shrugged. “I have about all the data I need from you and Gunnery Sergeant Price, and if you stay here, I only see you as being more of a distraction than an asset. So, this might be a good time for me to release you to pursue your other mission.”
Zac straightened up in the chair. “You’d do that?”
Cross shook his head. “I don’t want you around to fuck up my research, so yes. And the last thing I need is for the destroyer of the Temple of Light to be captured and paraded before the news cameras. The longer you stay here, there’s more of a chance that would happen.”
“What kind of support will we have?”
The doctor continued to shake his head. “None, really. I might be able to smuggle you off the planet, just to keep you from being caught. But beyond that, my hands are tied. You’ll have to use some of that REV resourcefulness at that point.”
“Can you help get our funds released? We each have a lot in savings.” Zac asked. “We haven’t had much use for money since joining the program.”
“I’ll see what I can do. But we certainly don’t want the transactions traced back here.”
Zac stood up. He wasn’t happy with the situation, but there was nothing he could do to change reality. A lot of young REVs were going to be used to advance the ambitions of Dr. David Cross. But how was that any different from how REVs had been used from the very beginning? It wasn’t, and maybe—just maybe—some of these newly-mutated naturals would be able to transform into a version of REV that could co-exist with normal society. As far as Zac could tell, that was the only salvation for the REVs, naturals or not.
As David Cross watched Murphy leave the office, he bit his lip out of frustration. The REV was as blind as he was arrogant, failing to truly see the vision. That couldn’t be helped, and without his interference, Cross could continue cultivating the REV population for naturals.
Leaning back in his chair, he smiled. And that’s just what he was doing…cultivating his crop. He didn’t give a damn if this new breed of REV was of use to the military or not. All he needed was raw material, and they were providing him with just that. Even Murphy and Price had done their part.
All David needed was another few years to allow the mutation to take effect in more of the REVs. Because of that, the program had to continue.
Yet after Fowler’s untimely freak-out, that timeline was now in jeopardy. And Lieutenant Zac Murphy was a complication Cross didn’t need.
15
When the workers at the complex first arrived, they were required to turn over their communication devices to the security detail. A blocking chip was inserted, that during security blackouts would cut off all contact with the outside world. Then the phones were returned. The problem was not everyone turned over all their devices. At the time, many of the staff didn’t see the need for such drastic measures, preferring to keep the option open of contacting family and friends. They’d already signed non-disclosure agreements. Wasn’t that enough?
As a result, when the security alert was activated following the Fowler incident, news of the massacre still got out, and within minutes of it happening.
Senator Reece Hamilton was in Washington, D.C. at the time, having just spent an exhausting week fighting with the appropriations committee on an amendment to the House budget, which included funding for the REV program. Hamilton couldn’t care less if the program continued. All he was concerned about was the flow of cash coming in from Cross’s anonymous benefactor. But even that was becoming problematic. The demand for the REVs be turned over the Antaere had reached a fever pitch. With the war going so badly, many felt that would not only normalize relations with the colony worlds but also had the potential of saving the planet from eventual defeat and occupation by the Antaere. At this point, few people believed the war could be won, making a negotiated peace the only solution. The senator was becoming a target of those advocating saving the planet from the aliens. That was a hard position to stand against, campaign contributions or not.
The news of the bloody rampage—by a berserk REV in Colorado—spread like wildfire throughout the capital of the Union of American States. But the item that got the mos
t attention among the military and political class was the mention of the infamous REV Zac Murphy being at the facility. However, the news was confusing. Either he had helped end the crisis or had contributed to it. In the end, it didn’t matter. The fact that he was on the planet—and at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex—was enough. Plans were set in motion to apprehend the REV, even if no formal charges had been filed. If the time came, it was better to have him in custody than not.
Senator Hamilton immediately jumped on the bandwagon, helping to coordinate the effort. Both civilian and military personnel knew their task wouldn’t be easy. Murphy was not only a REV, he was the most-senior and successful of them all. He wouldn’t be an easy target. And it wouldn’t pay for him to be killed, either. The Antaere were adamant about Zac being turned over to them alive. This went for the other REVs involved in the temple incident. But it was Murphy they wanted above all others—and alive. If anyone was going to kill the REV, it would be them.
Hamilton knew the current configuration of the mountain complex, thanks to his recent visit. He provided all the information he could, while also volunteering to lead the way, using the diversion of a personal visit to Dr. Cross to mask the presence of an assault team. If all went well, Senator Reece Hamilton could claim he led the heroic—and dangerous—mission to capture the renegade REV Zac Murphy. In the short term, that could be worth a lot more than the loss of a few hundred thousand adjusted dollars in campaign contributions. It could also be the stepping stone to even greater power and glory. And that, after all, was the ultimate ambition of the politician from California.
16
Zac was in Price’s room, watching him stuff what few belongings he had into a green canvas duffle bag. The REVs had arrived on Earth with only the clothing on their backs, but now they had a little more, thanks to the generosity of Dr. David Cross. But it wasn’t gratitude they felt when they thought of the REV doctor. Zac was still fuming over the revelations from the brief meeting he had with him three days before. He’d relayed the information to Angus Price, who now mirrored Zac’s disgust and disillusionment with the entire REV program.