by T. C. Edge
“She has, sir. Not long ago.”
“And you’ve updated her, I assume, Agent Hunt?”
Colonel Slattery was one of those opposed to informing Chloe of her true importance. He was equally keen on seeing her immediately terminated to rid the world of the data within. His attitude was no-nonsense, strict, and at times like this, Ragan considered, inhumane.
Another necessary evil that Project Dawn deployed.
“I have, sir. You know my position.”
“I do,” grunted the Colonel. “And though I don’t agree with it, I respect it. Far as I see it, the council will agree to terminate the girl, and thus there’s little point in her knowing. If I had it my way, I’d ensure she was kept unconscious for the duration. No need in prolonging the poor girl’s agony.”
“Well, perhaps it’s good that the decision isn’t yours alone, Jeremiah,” remarked Martha. “The girl is innocent. We should seek other options before drawing the sword.”
“I know your feelings on it, Martha. We shall debate it in the council chambers soon. I’m sure we’ll come to the right decision together.”
Martha’s pleasant, friendly complexion darkened for a moment. She bit her tongue and turned to Ragan.
“Who else has arrived?”
“No one, as yet,” said Ragan. “They should all be here within the hour.”
“Then I’d like to see Chloe before then,” said Martha. “I’ve been dying to meet her for so very long.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Martha,” came Colonel Slattery’s military tone. “No visits are permitted by the council. Even I have refrained. We shall meet her together when the time comes.”
“Fine,” breathed Martha, shaking her head. “You know, this organisation is supposed to promote humanity, Colonel. That was the entire purpose of its inception, I’ll remind you. We should treat this girl in accordance with our doctrines. We should…”
Colonel Slattery lifted a hand to cut her off.
“I’m sorry, Martha, but there will come a time for you to state your position. There is to be no discussion beyond the chambers. We must follow our doctrine in that regard too.”
Martha went quiet, though appeared as if she wished to speak once more. She retained a smile, falsely adopted.
“Now, have you spoken with your commander at the CID?” queried Colonel Slattery, turning to Ragan. “I trust your position there remains intact and your subterfuge undiscovered. Once this is over, there’s always the next mission. You will be required to return there immediately and continue your good work.”
“It’s intact, sir,” said Ragan, nodding slowly. “I spoke with Commander Wexley a little while ago, and presented an excuse for my lack of contact and disappearance on their systems.”
“And they bought it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. See that you make sure nothing changes on that account. Good to see you, Martha.” He turned and dipped his head to her. “I have further preparations before the council meets. I’ll see you both there.”
He turned and slipped away across the base, disappearing into his office.
Martha watched him go, her head shaking, before turning to Ragan.
“It looks like I have my work cut out,” she murmured. “His mind is not for turning.” She looked at Ragan, and saw the worry etched upon his brow. “But I’ll do my best, my boy,” she added. “One way or another, we’ll see Chloe free.”
Ragan linked with her brown eyes and nodded.
Damn right we will, he thought.
24
Chloe had little concept of how much time had passed when she heard the door being unlocked.
Ever since Ragan had left her, speeding away having uttered so many devastating revelations, she’d merely sat in contemplation on that dingy sofa, doing little more than staring at empty space and trying to work through things in her mind.
She was a logical girl, mostly detached from the burden of emotional excess. But right now, she was being besieged by a range of feelings covering anger, bewilderment, and a palpable sense of fear.
For so long she’d been on the run without knowing exactly why. Long enough, perhaps, for the ‘why’ itself to fade, replaced by the single need to keep on going, keep on hiding, and hope that one day she might be free.
Now, her life, and the truth of it all, had been presented to her by a man who seemed to know far more about her past than she did. It was, in a way, hurtful to discover that her future, her life, had been so discussed in secret groups, all scurrying to take possession of the key in her blood.
She felt impotent, like she was just a pawn in a grand game. Her life itself carried no meaning to anyone. Only what lay inside her was of interest.
As she sat, and tried to work through it all, searching her memories for some confirmation, perhaps, that what Ragan said was true, the thought of escape had begun to burgeon. It was her default position, to run and hide and seek the safety of her own solitude.
The consideration came briefly, but was quickly denied. She knew the door was locked - Ragan had made sure of that when he left. She knew that there were guards outside, clear enough to see through the frosted glass. She knew her bracelet guns had been taken, and her multifunction lenses too.
Though Ragan had left her unshackled, there was clearly no way out of here. If she tried to blast her way out using her electrical discharge powers, the whole place could come tumbling down on her head. If she broke through the door, she’d be summarily taken out by those beyond. Even Remus, her great ally, remained somewhat disinterested, still reenergising in her pocket.
But even if the door was magically opened, and the guards dismissed, and her personal effects returned, she knew she wouldn’t walk out. Something had changed now, something elemental, something deep inside. She knew the truth, and a corner had been turned. The thought of running and hiding, as she had been for so long, hardly even entered her head.
No, she needed to know more. She needed to understand. She needed, most of all, to rid herself of this evil inside her. This information that, if taken on by those in power, would ultimately change the face of the earth.
Though she required more time to process what she’d been told, one thing had become quickly clear - her thoughts were aligned with those of Ragan’s, and the people he served. This organisation he spoke of, this anti-technology cult, were of a mind that she could understand and agree with.
The concept of transferring consciousness into synthetic bodies was repulsive to her. Its military applications were vast and terrifying, as Ragan said, but that was only the beginning. And while, in the right hands, perhaps some good could come of her father’s work, right now such a thought didn’t cross Chloe’s mind.
All she could think of was the desire to get it out of her. To free her of its burden. It was like a deadly disease inside her, terminal, untreatable. Nothing but a death sentence that, if she couldn’t remove it, would be her end.
But…if they could, then surely it would be the hunt that would end instead? If the information could be extracted, then what would anyone want with her? She’d become nothing but a girl of 19, undesired and unexceptional.
She’d be free. Left alone.
And with that thought, a hope erupted.
It was at that moment, as she imagined a world away from all of this, that the lock turned and the door opened. Her eyes lifted, and a smile worked swiftly to her face as Ragan stepped in.
She stood to her feet as he appeared upon the threshold. The vibrancy of her smile, the hope in her eyes, drew a look of affection upon him. A look that didn’t last long.
“Can I just say, I’m sorry for earlier,” Ragan started, stepping in and shutting the door. “Perhaps it was inadvisable to say what I did. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” said Chloe immediately. “You told me the truth. I’m happy you did.”
“Oh, yeah, the truth. But I meant…how I was here, you know…for you. Forget I said that,
OK.”
He sounded quite awkward. Enough, in fact, to have Chloe stifling a little smirk.
“Um, sure. I barely even remember that,” she mumbled. “I kinda heard nothing after, well, everything else.” She lifted her hands to her head, making a gesture as if her skull was exploding in an attempt to flush away any awkwardness. “I mean…mind…blown,” she lifted her eyes. “Think nothing of it.”
“Thanks,” mumbled Ragan, pressing forwards. “So, how are you feeling?”
“Hmmmm, how am I feeling?” repeated Chloe, cradling her chin and looking all pensive.
“Right, stupid question I guess. I’d imagine it’ll take a while to process things, to set your emotions in order and everything.”
“No, I’m fine,” said Chloe, keen to keep her head straight. “I’m actually quite excited.”
“Excited?”
“Yeah. I guess I thought that, when I was eventually captured, I’d be dragged to some lab and chopped up into little bits to have my nanites extracted or something. Or, you know, have a nano-vamp suck my blood out. I’m not saying I trust you or anything, but you seem to be the best of a bad bunch.”
“Aw, how sweet of you to say,” grinned Ragan.
“That’s if you’re telling the truth, of course.”
“Which I am.”
“Good,” said Chloe buoyantly. “Then I guess I’m in agreement.”
“Agreement?” queried Ragan beneath a frown.
“Yeah. You can extract the data from me, and destroy it. That seems to be what you’re about, right? You and this organisation.”
“Project Dawn.”
“Project Dawn? That’s your name?”
“Yeah. It’s meant to signify a new dawn for humanity. Something like that. I didn’t come up with it.”
“Well, clearly you’re lacking a marketing team around here,” smiled Chloe. “But, name aside, I’m in. Do what you need to do. Suck the data out, destroy it, and I’ll be on my merry way. Maybe that’s not what my dad wanted, but frankly I don’t care…”
Ragan’s falling expression was cause for concern. It stopped Chloe in her tracks.
“Or…is there something else I don’t know?” she asked.
“Um, a hiccup on that front,” nodded Ragan. “I was trying to be clear earlier, but perhaps with everything going on I wasn’t clear enough. OK, so I’m on your side here. Completely, one hundred per cent behind you. But…”
“But?”
“Well, others aren’t quite so…sympathetic, let’s say.”
“Not…sympathetic,” repeated Chloe slowly, her light expression fading into something resembling a starless night. “You did say earlier that I had nothing to fear. That I wouldn’t be harmed. I do remember that bit.”
“And…I stand by that,” murmured Ragan without conviction.
“You don’t sound like you do. So…what’s the problem exactly?” She peered in closely, her pulse started to lift. “Am I under threat here? Ragan, answer me truthfully.”
The movement of Ragan’s eyes was indicting. They did a good few laps of the room without ever landing on Chloe. His lips parted, on several occasions starting to speak before trailing off, like a failing engine that just won’t get going.
Clearly, something very serious was wrong. This wasn’t going to be as simple as Chloe had hoped.
In the end, she spoke for her captor and supposed ally, her whip-quick mind analysing his awkwardness and immediately drawing a conclusion.
“There’s no way to extract the information here, is there?” she asked, her bright blue eyes staring right at him, searching for an unspoken response. An unspoken confirmation.
She got it. He finally turned his gaze to her. His eyes said it all.
“So…they’re going to kill me?” she said, her tone unemotional, entirely flat. “They’re going to kill me to make sure the information never gets out?”
Finally, Ragan seemed to draw the courage to speak.
“The council are about to deliberate on your fate, Chloe,” he said softly. “That is an option they will consider.”
“An option they will consider,” Chloe repeated, shaking her head. “And here was me thinking you were my friend, or was that just a lie?”
Ragan took a pace forward.
“No, not a lie,” he said quickly. “It’s the truth.”
“So, you’re my friend, but the council aren’t? Is that it?”
“Um…”
“And, tell me, Ragan - just who makes the decisions around here? You…or them? Who exactly is going to decide my fate?” She cut Ragan off before he could speak. “Oh, of course, you just told me…it’s them. You’re just a grunt, nothing but a soldier,” she bit. “They’re the ones who are going to sign my death warrant.”
She was losing her cool, and her fingers were warming. The early sparks were beginning to fly. They were a weapon no one could take away from her.
“You’re right,” said Ragan solemnly, finding his voice again. Chloe’s brows lowered. Her sparking fingers were doused. “I am just a soldier, and can’t make this decision. But, there are other things I can do, Chloe. I promised you I’ll keep you safe, and I will. One way or another…I will.”
Chloe’s anger was stayed. He seemed genuine. Even Remus, finally waking, appeared to agree, hovering suddenly from Chloe’s pocket and looking upon Ragan.
“Hey, little guy,” said Ragan at his appearance. “So I hear you’re called Remus.”
Remus did a little spin, then formed into a bird, fluttering briefly around the room before perching on Chloe’s shoulder.
“Amazing,” whispered Ragan. “There’s nothing else like him out there.”
The short exchange seemed enough to break the tension. Chloe drew a breath, and fell back onto the sofa. Her brief hope that this whole mess could be quickly rectified was gone, like a pile of autumn leaves scattered by a sudden wind. Even Remus’ playful nature couldn’t draw a smile.
“So,” she said, hanging her head. “What now?”
“Now, you’re gonna hate me even more,” said Ragan. Chloe lifted her eyes. “The council want to meet you before they make a decision. I hope you don’t mind being put on show…”
25
The council chambers for the esteemed members of Project Dawn were set within what appeared to be an old war room. The place was circular, its walls covered in huge screens that might once have been lit with maps of the globe, terrorist threats, current military engagements, and more.
Now, they were defunct, many of them cracked and painted with dust and accumulated grime. They had become little more than glass wallpaper, a black blanket wrapped around the room that served to set a sombre atmosphere.
The middle of the chamber, meanwhile, was taken by a single feature, kept clean and ready to be used when the occasion called for it. A table, circular in shape like the room itself, was fitted right in the centre, with eight chairs around the perimeter, to be sat in by the eight members of the council. At one part of the table, there was a gate, the surface hinged and able to be lifted up to allow someone to pass into the hollow space within.
And right now, that’s just where Chloe was.
A moment ago, Ragan had accompanied her out of her room, down a series of dusty old corridors, up a level, and here to this chamber. She’d entered in, gazed around, and quickly concluded that it wasn’t a friendly place.
It was dim inside, most of the light centred on the table in the middle, leaving the perimeter in shadow. And round that perimeter, even darker shadows dwelled, belonging to soldiers, standing guard and keeping watch on proceedings.
Ragan hadn’t joined them. Clearly, though a soldier, his rank was a little loftier. Instead, he hovered around behind the table itself, taking position near to a particularly welcoming looking lady with auburn hair and chirpy brown eyes.
The look on the lady’s face suggested Chloe had at least one ally here.
Still, before she entered, Ragan had been keen to
pass along his advice, whispering for her to stay calm, and to try to ‘charm’ them.
“Don’t let your fingers spark,” he’d said. “They’ll only see you as more of a danger.”
That was easier said than done, and the space ahead of her wasn’t inviting. The situation, in fact, appeared to be specifically designed to make her uneasy, standing there between them all with eyes on her front, sides, and back. And without Remus’ all-seeing eye - again, Ragan had advised for him to stay hidden in her jacket pocket - she felt particularly unsettled knowing that, wherever she turned, she’d find a new set of glaring eyes looking upon her.
There were eight sets in total - four men, and four women - who would be the ones to decide her fate. And that thought alone made her angry.
No one should decide my fate but me…
Her expression grew grim at the thought. With her heart fluttering, she did a quick rotation, taking in the eight faces around the circular table. Her immediate analysis wasn’t encouraging - apart from the rusty-headed lady, no one looked overly welcoming.
From behind her, the sound of a scraping chair filled the room. She spun around and looked at a man in a military uniform which had the markings of the WSA. He had cropped grey hair, a tanned face, and a rugged countenance that, even aside from his military attire, made clear his vocation.
His voice matched his look.
“Welcome, Miss Phantom,” he said, his words tight as a drum. “I think I can speak for all of us here when I say it’s a great pleasure to finally see you in person.”
A great pleasure? Tell your face…
“Now, I know you’ve already been informed of the truth of why you’re here before us. Please, try not to be alarmed. We are a peaceful organisation, and wish to seek a peaceful solution to this problem. But first, let me introduce myself. My name is Colonel Jeremiah Slattery, and I am the commander here at the base, and the head of the Crimson Corps, to which your new friend, Mr Hunt, is a member.”
Chloe looked over at Ragan, then back at the Colonel.
“As with all of us here,” the man went on, “I have a particular aversion to the unchecked and uncontrolled advancement of certain technologies. Some we can tolerate. In fact, many of us here have been augmented, or have otherwise benefitted from the progress of science. But others take us beyond the realms of acceptability. Others, we all agree, will alter the core function of what it means to be human. If left to the whims of the greedy and power hungry, the future will be bleak, even more so than it is now. We have made it our solemn duty to ensure that doesn’t happen, and that this war, and the terrible scientific arms race it has given birth to, doesn’t destroy us all.”