The Rogue Spark series Box Set

by Cameron Coral

  They backed away a step. Cecile clutched her rifle but didn’t aim it. Rik tightened his grasp on the other two guns at his side. I stood, shielding Peterson from them, not wanting them to finish the mission.

  The drones had arrived and surrounded us, recording events as they unfolded, and transmitting footage to the watchers. How much had they filmed?

  As we stood facing off, a torrent of dust swept through the area. We covered our faces and watched as an air cruiser descended from the sky. The pilot maneuvered the thrusters and landed the craft. Two men in riot gear emerged and grabbed Cecile and Rik, shoving them inside. One man approached me, his gun aimed at me.

  I raised my arms in defense, cursing myself for not keeping the rifle, and then watched as the soldier shot me in the shoulder. It stung like a bee sting. A dart. The man caught me around my middle and dragged me onto the ship.

  Before I succumbed to the tranquilizer, my last thought was Peterson. What would they do to him?

  Twenty-Two

  “Of all the subjects, this is the first aberration,” said Dr. Kenmore as he clicked the tip of a pen nestled in his pocket. “Replay,” he ordered the AI.

  His companion, a tall black man whose marine jacket read, Tyren, blinked rapidly as he watched the girl on the video place her hands on the wounded guard’s chest, close her eyes, then restore him ninety seconds later. “What do you make of it?”

  Dr. Kenmore paced the room, removing his glasses. “She’s only the third that I’ve implanted with the nanobots. The first two… well, you know how those ended.”

  “Suicide.” Tyren lowered his head and wished the tests hadn’t been so rushed. Hunter, their superior, had sided with Kenmore—skip animal testing and start on humans. They were out of time.

  “An unfortunate complication,” said the doctor.

  “Complication? Or faulty design?”

  Kenmore narrowed his eyes at the insult, and Tyren suspected the man didn’t give a shit about the dead teens. To him, they were stepping stones as he tweaked the microscopic nanotech he had surgically implanted into numerous subjects. Just being in the lab made Tyren’s skin crawl. “Commander Hunter wants an update on the program. He sent me to check how things are progressing.”

  “I see. He’s too busy to visit himself?”

  “You know the deal. He can’t be associated with this lab were it discovered. You get his funding, not his friendship.”

  Kenmore nodded. “Right. And still no external comms. I’ve kept my end of the bargain.”

  Tyren thrust a finger at the screen that displayed Ida’s genetic profile. “Hunter needs intel about her. Give me the background.”

  “Fine,” Kenmore said. “As you know, the miniaturized AI injected into patients 117 and 118 were too extreme in terms of their programming. I had to tune down the aggression, so to speak.”

  With a stern face, Tyren listened and wondered if the doctor was losing his sanity.

  “The girl, patient 119, is a setback, albeit an interesting one. In my attempts to reprogram the nanobots, I may have gone too far in the opposite direction.”

  “Too far? You mean, instead of aggression, she's ended up easy going instead?”

  Kenmore smirked. “Hardly. Nothing changed about her attitude. Remember, it’s the tuning on the nanobots that has a direct effect on the body of the people she touches. No, instead of the AI implants killing others as intended, they seem to have a healing effect instead.”

  “The opposite of what you want in a weaponized soldier.”

  Kenmore rubbed his temples. “You see my conundrum. I can’t surgically remove the implants now. They’ve taken root inside her blood and internal tissue. She must be destroyed.”

  “Damn it, Kenmore.” Tyren’s jaw clenched. “You know how hard it is to find these subjects for you. If someone discovered us…” He shook his head. “Another one dead? Hunter will not be pleased.”

  “What other choice do we have? I can’t reprogram the AI once the nanobots are inside her.”

  Tyren thought. Was there another way they could use her? The lab’s body count was already high. He was sick of cleaning up Kenmore’s messes. “There must be an alternative. If what you say is true—if she can heal, then she’d be a hell of a medic. I can use someone like that by my side on the battlefield.”

  “Keep in mind, she’s untested. She resurrected a mouse and now the hybrid guard, but there’s no predicting how the nanotech will evolve.”

  “You said she’s a decent fighter, right?”

  Kenmore nodded.

  “I can train her, take her under my wing. She’ll be my back-up plan in case I’m injured in the fighting to come.”

  Kenmore furrowed his brow. “I'll want reports on her—regular updates and DNA samples every month.”

  “Agreed. Can you spot clean her memory? Make sure she doesn’t remember details from here?”

  “I have a way to do that, yes. Did you bring me what I wanted?”

  Tyren sighed. “May God help me. The plane is en route. Five more recruits.”

  “And the other request?” Kenmore’s eyes gleamed.

  “I had a helluva time finding one, but yes, the wolf will arrive tomorrow from Montana. What do you want with it?”

  Kenmore smiled. “A little side-project I’m working on.”

  “More of your wolf-human creations?” Tyren’s stomach turned. “You’re sick, you know that?”

  “Don’t worry,” Kenmore said. “Hunter knows all about them. They’re important to our mission.”

  “What do you call them again?”

  “Hybrids.”

  Twenty-Three

  “Peterson!” I shoved the guard’s lifeless body. “Come on, wake up.”

  Nothing. His vacant eyes gazed skyward.

  I grabbed his shirt and tugged him back and forth. “Wake up, they’re coming!” The sirens wailed, and I knew Kenmore’s men—the watchers constantly surveilling me—would be on top of us soon. They’d imprison us. Or worse, kill us.

  I shot up, bolt-straight in pitch black. Drenched in sweat, I was in my cell bed. An ear-splitting alarm sounded. I’d been dreaming again, but I couldn’t remember exactly what about. It must have been intense—my heart raced like crazy. I grasped for the memory, but it evaded me.

  The warning signal ripped me back to the present. What now? Fire? Another assassination mission in the desert? But I’d already failed one mission, only to end up back in my prison cell. I didn’t care what happened. Burning in a fire would be a better than going through another surgery. They’d already transformed me into some kind of freak. I had creatures inside my arms with minds of their own. I’d rather perish than keep living here.

  I rolled out of bed and sank to my knees. Exhausted and defeated, I could no longer hold back the flood of tears that stained my cheeks.

  The incessant blaring of the alarm deafened me. A freight train could tear through the hallway, and I wouldn’t know. I curled into a fetal position, then smelled smoke. Tendrils of vapor stretched out of the high ceiling vents and flowed from under the door. Good, I thought. Time to die. I’m ready. My thoughts drifted to those I cared about: Joanie, Reed, the mother whose face I couldn’t quite recall. Would anyone remember me?

  Someone banged on the cell door. It sounded like a battering ram. I rolled to my knees and recoiled against the far wall, coughing and retching in the heavy smoke. Then the door burst forward, separated from its hinges. A dark figure wearing a gas mask surged toward me.

  “No, please,” I tried to say, but no sound emerged. He was here to kill me, I was sure. Then I remembered I wanted to die. I’m ready, I thought.

  The man bent down and scooped me up into his arms. Helpless and choking, I fell limp as he carried me out and into the hallway. He jogged down the corridor, and we joined other men with rifles and respirator helmets. One of them shoved a tube in my mouth, and I sucked in the fresh air, relaxing as the clean oxygen filled my burning lungs.

  Gunfire reso
nated from somewhere in the building. I lifted my head and tried to talk.

  The man’s green eyes peered at me through his visor. “We’re getting you out of here.”

  My vision blurred. Thoughts raced through my mind: the mission, Cecile and Rik, jumping inside Peterson’s body—if that had even happened. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. Was a rescue possible? I looked down, scanned myself and realized I was wearing my jeans, boots, and a tee-shirt. I couldn’t feel the pocket knife in my bra, so it must’ve been confiscated. Weird. My memory was spotty, like someone had carved chunks out.

  Still carrying me, the man followed his companions and sprinted through the maze-like hallways, holding me as if I weighed nothing. My heart raced. Was this another test? Another twisted Kenmore experiment?

  We turned a corner where a different masked man waited by an open door. The hangar. The same one where the armored truck had been and where I assumed I’d arrived on the aircraft that had transported me here. Or, it could have been somewhere else. My memories seemed fuzzy, and I realized the plane trip might have been a dream.

  He hauled me to a waiting air cruiser, then lifted me onto a jump seat and buckled me in. After removing his mask, he crouched down at eye level. “You’re okay.” He paused, catching his breath. Sweat glistened on his sepia-toned skin. “You’re wondering what’s happened. My name is Tyren. I’m a marine.”

  He searched my eyes for a reaction, but all I could do was stare with my mouth open. “You’re in shock.” He grabbed an oxygen mask from the wall and placed it on my face. “You’ve been in a rogue medical lab. We’ve been searching for this place for years.”

  I blinked. Thoughts swirled in my head—a mishmash of flashbacks combined with fear, uncertainty, and despair. Instead of my mind clearing, I felt my memory growing hazier.

  “You’re lucky to be alive.” He lowered his chin. “You’re the only survivor we found.”

  What? How could that be? Cecile, Rik… and someone else. Tears flooded my eyes, and I realized I couldn’t remember everything that happened.

  Tyren straightened and peered down as other members of his team streamed onto the ship, powered up, and engaged the air thrusters.

  “You’ll be glad to know, we’ve killed the men in charge and are burning this place to the ground.”

  The cruiser rose into the night sky, and I gazed through a window, glimpsing fire and smoke below us before we soared away. Free of my prison.

  My breathing calmed as I sucked in oxygen. It relieved me to hear Kenmore was dead, but the others… Had they really died?

  I yanked the mask off, suddenly remembering. “There were other kids! And someone else—he tried to help me. Was he…?”

  Tyren loomed above and shook his head gravely. “There were no other survivors.”

  I sank into the chair and exhaled. So much life wasted. How did I survive? Why me?

  After a time, we reached a higher altitude, and Tyren took the seat across from me. “What’s your name?”

  “Ida.”

  He raised his eyebrows for me to go on.

  “Ida Sarek.”

  “Where’s home?”

  I paused. I’d never been asked this question before. Was New York City my home? After being separated from Joanie and the gang, I feared I’d never find them again. I gazed down. “I don’t have a home.”

  Tyren smiled. “Ever considered joining the military? We could use a strong, young person like you.”

  Military. The thought had never crossed my mind. I wondered if I could rescue girls like me who were held captive. Dish out justice to their abductors.

  What other choice did I have? I nodded and shrugged. “I’m open to possibilities.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tyren said, locking his gaze on me. “You’re safe now.”

  Twenty-Four

  3 January 2040

  Reed,

  How the hell are you? Tyren promised me this letter would get to you. I trust him. He’s one of the good guys. Maybe the only one besides you.

  You won’t believe where I am. I’m in the MILITARY.

  Basic training—Marines.

  Me, of all people.

  The most rebellious person you know becoming a jarhead. Weird, right?

  But you know what? I’m doing okay here. I feel like it’s the first time I belong somewhere.

  You’re probably scratching your head and wondering how the hell I ended up here in the first place. Well, it’s a long story, and it ain’t pretty.

  Let’s just say the couple who “adopted” me were evil assholes. They held me against my will for a few months.

  A SWAT team raided the place and rescued me. It was badass. Captain Reginald Tyren is the man in charge. I guess he felt sorry for me because he offered for me to join his military outfit.

  What other choice did I have?

  So, I accepted and wound up in basic. I’m at a camp in Germany—across the world. Can you believe it?

  It’s nice here—green forests with lots of tall trees. But it rains a lot which is a drag because my boots get so damn muddy.

  Basic is all right. When I first arrived, they gave me a lot of medical tests. The bastards inserted a chip in my arm which I protested. But Tyren told me it’s standard procedure. He has one too.

  After that, I took an Initial Strength Test. It was a joke. They make new recruits run a mile, then see how many sit-ups and pull-ups we can manage to see if we’re in good enough shape to start boot camp. Well, I aced the sucker and outperformed all the others. Tyren was impressed.

  They wake us early every day and we start out with a five-mile run before we pile into mess hall. Then, I head to martial arts (my favorite), first aid, and a few other classes about values and nonsense like that.

  I’ve been getting to know some other recruits. They’re okay, I guess. Mostly, I keep to myself. It’s been tough since the lab. For some reason, I can’t remember everything that happened there.

  I heard the training will get more intense over the coming weeks. This first part is a cakewalk. I’m up for a challenge, but nervous too.

  What’s happening with you at Woodlawn? Is that asshole Kilpatrick still in charge? Are the other kids treating you better these days?

  I miss hanging out in the yard with you. Write me back at this address and let me know what’s going on. Tyren said any letter will reach me here, but it might take a little longer.

  Sorry our communications are so old-school. Who the hell writes letters on paper anymore? But Tyren says the rules are the rules, and this is how it’s always been for new Marine recruits. We can’t have any tech or comms devices when we’re in training.

  Be sure to write me. Soon!

  Ida

  12 January 2040

  Dear Ida,

  Holy crap! I did a dance for joy when I received your letter. I had no idea what had happened to you or where you had moved. Kilpatrick wouldn’t tell me anything. He said it was confidential. He’s most likely reading these letters, just so you know.

  I miss you a lot. Things here are same as ever except the bigger kids mostly avoid me now. Actually, all the kids avoid me. Even the loners and little kids got frightened when you beat up Marc.

  It doesn’t matter. I’ve been doing some research, and I’ll apply to join the Marines too! That way, we can both be in the military and meet up again soon.

  I have to figure out the exact details, but I’m working on it. You’ll be way ahead of me, of course. But, that’s no surprise.

  Mostly, I want out of Woodlawn.

  I’m really glad you made it somewhere. Basic training sounds tough, but you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. If anyone can succeed there, you can.

  They’ll probably put you in charge one of these days!

  There have been several visitors la--

  [unintelligible smudges

  and cross-outs]

  heard the kids who got adopted ended up in good homes. It’s great to see others finding families. For a lon
g time, I wondered if anyone would adopt me, but I’ve given up hope. I’m a runt compared to the other kids. Who would want me?

  No matter. My heart is set on the Marines anyway because that’s where you are.

  I’m dying to know what else is happening there. How’s your training going?

  Write back ASAP!

  In sincerest friendship,

  Reed Russell

  20 January 2040

  Hey Reed,

  I was glad to hear back, but I’m worried. Someone scratched out part of your letter. (I think we both know who).

  You don’t want to get “adopted,” trust me. I have a lousy feeling about all the kids getting placed in homes lately.

  Just do me a favor, and keep a low profile, okay? I’m glad the bullies are staying away from you. If they do mess with you, don’t fight back. Ignore what I told you about standing up to them. The people who kidnapped me are looking to take away strong people. The more you can be weak and boring, the better.

  I respect you for wanting to join the Marines, but I’ve got to level with you. You’re not cut out for it. It has to be said. The training is intense.

  Maybe you could join another military branch? I heard Space Guard is looking for scientists. You’re brilliant, Reed. Seriously, it’s like you’re a genius or something.

  There’s a lot of scary shit happening in the world. Adults weren’t telling us everything. They sheltered you and me from world events and news at Woodlawn. All you need to know is something terrible is happening in the Middle East and Europe. I can’t say what. It’s classified.

  Training has gotten intense. Becoming a Marine has exhausted me down to my bones. We get little sleep, and most of the time, I feel like a walking zombie.

  Tyren says they keep us awake to simulate actual war-time conditions.

  I’ve become an expert rifleman. The firing range is great stress relief.

  Everything is building up to this thing called The Crucible. It’s a 54-hour exercise that simulates a battle. We march about forty miles and get maybe four hours of sleep the entire time.