by T. C. Edge
Ragan watched as Chloe’s eyes slid shut, and her head rolled gently to one side. He took a brief moment to indulge in what had just happened, a smile hovering up onto his face as he looked upon hers, so beautiful, so innocent.
In his palm, Remus still sat silent and still. He looked down at the little orb.
“She’s full of surprises, your partner,” he said to the inactive drone.
Then he laughed at himself, another indulgence. Ragan wasn’t one for speaking with inanimate objects, yet Remus had proven himself far more lifelike than he’d expected. At first, he’d thought it odd when Chloe spoke to him like he was a living, breathing companion. Now, Ragan was doing just the same.
“OK, little guy, let’s tuck you away,” he said, slipping Remus into an inside pocket of his combat jacket and zipping it up tight.
Then he quickly made sure to fasten Chloe’s ankles and wrists, doing so gently and making sure she remained comfortably seated. He looked upon her once more, took a breath, and returned his hands to the jet’s controls.
“OK then,” he said, now speaking to himself. “Here we go…”
Turning the jet’s propulsion spouts, the craft stopped hovering and began shooting forwards once again, the blush of dawn continuing to glow stronger as the lights of the city faded against the brightening hue of the morning sky. Ragan returned his comms clip to his ear and activated the connection. As expected, Commander Wexley was eagerly awaiting his call.
“I’m approaching Manhattan now, sir,” said Ragan. “I’ll be landing on the roof of the CID within a few minutes.”
“Perfect, I’ll meet you there. Doc is overseeing the preparation of the lab. Everything is ready to go.”
“Great. See you shortly.”
Ragan once more slipped the comms device into his pocket, guiding the jet across the twinkling urban jungle below. Across the water, Manhattan was a towering presence, a place Ragan had come to know well over the last few years. He’d grown up to the north, within the boundary of the NDSA, making him an official citizen of the nation. Yet his early years had been spent in rural settings, his life quiet and unremarkable. Only when he grew into his teens did his true purpose take shape, his natural abilities marking him out as being suited to a life of service, and a prime candidate for nanotech augmentation.
As a boy, such a thing seemed so appealing. The thought of being able to do what these super-soldiers could do, of being right there on the front line of science and war. He looked upon the special forces of the NDSA as a higher evolution of the species, and he wanted nothing more than to join their ranks.
Through his endeavour and work ethic, he did, working as an apprentice in the army before being scouted for the Panther Force. It was a dream come true the day they changed him for good. The day he was taken for augmentation, for nanobot restructuring. He went in a boy of only 16, still growing, still changing, and came out a man who could perform wondrous feats unthinkable to the common soldier.
Ragan never liked the idea of being common. His early life had forged a deep desire in him to attain something of note, do something special. He truly believed that the Panther Force was the way, yet so much more was yet to come. Now he’d seen so much, done so much, and had grown increasingly concerned by it all. By the direction the world was going. By the great threats that lay hidden away in labs and research facilities. By the power of God, being wielded by man. A power that Ragan felt, deep in his marrow, would one day come to destroy them all.
And now, descending through the early morning mist, and heading for the summit of the CID HQ, he knew full well just what that something special was, what his true purpose was.
It was this moment right here, this culmination of years of work. Years of secrets and lies and subterfuge, since being recruited by Project Dawn. Years of seeking Chloe Phantom, of a pulsating, profound need to be the one to catch her. To be the one to save her.
His true purpose was her.
Ragan looked at her now, shackled and unconscious, as the jet swept over the towering skyscrapers, and felt certain that his life’s work was about to come to fruition. He was young, yes, only 23 years old, but he knew he’d never be greeted by a moment as important as this. The future might just rest upon his shoulders now.
And more than that, Chloe’s life rested on them too.
The roof of the CID came into view, a large, flat expanse fifty levels up from the earth. It wasn’t the tallest building by any means, surrounded by far loftier structures. They enclosed it, protecting it, like a stunted tree in the woods bordered by giants on all sides. He looked down and saw a small grouping of people awaiting him - Commander Wexley, with three armed guards to his flanks and behind him. They, like Ragan, were augmented and highly trained. Commander Wexley wasn’t taking any chances.
The jet flowed above the roof, slowing to a hover, before descending swiftly. It moved down among the forest of skyscrapers, falling towards the roof and landing with a light thump.
Shutting down the engines, Ragan took a calming breath, tapped his pocket to confirm Remus’ presence, and glanced at Chloe a final time.
And as Wexley and his guards came hurrying forward, Ragan stepped out into the cool morning air.
His boss was quick to greet him, rushing forwards with an outstretched hand. Before anything else, he observed his man’s excellent work, shaking hurriedly, his eyes exhilarated.
“Brilliant work, Agent Hunt, just brilliant,” he said. “Now let me see the girl…”
He marched around the side of the jet. Reaching the passenger door, Wexley eagerly opened it up. His gaze landed on Chloe’s unconscious, manacled figure. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable.
“Well, here she is,” said Wexley, shaking his head in slight disbelief. “My goodness me, the trouble this girl has caused. She looks such a delicate thing.”
“I can assure you, sir, that she isn’t,” said Ragan, playing his role. “She nearly killed me on several occasions these last couple of days.”
Commander Wexley smiled and looked at his agent.
“There’s no shame in that, young man,” he said, tapping Ragan’s arm playfully. He was in rarely buoyant mood, his excitement clear to see. Much as he tried to hide it behind his unflustered visage, he was failing miserably right now. “Is that how you damaged you wrist interface?”
Wexley’s eyes dipped to Ragan’s right wrist, currently hidden behind the sleeve of his black combat jacket.
“Yes, sir,” said Ragan, expecting the query. “It was her electrical discharge ability, seemed to fry the circuits.”
“I see. Well, we’ll get that fixed soon enough. For now, let’s get her down.”
Wexley turned to the guards, standing nearby on the roof, and clipped his fingers. They came hurrying forwards, unpacking a stretcher, and quickly drew Chloe’s body from the transport, doing so with urgency and a certain lack of care. Dragging her out the door, they lifted her too sharply, bumping her head on the frame.
“Be careful, damnit!” grunted Ragan, stepping forward and brushing one of the guards aside. “This is precious cargo here.”
The guard raised an eye, but a nod from Commander Wexley had him stepping back, Ragan instead taking position at one end of the stretcher.
He acted on instinct, but quickly realised his behaviour was odd, a little too protective.
“Sorry, Commander,” he said. “I haven’t had a chance to get much sleep.”
“It’s quite all right, Ragan,” said Wexley. “You’ve been through plenty I’d imagine. Now let’s get to it.”
A lingering glance was enough to set a slight tremor to Ragan’s pulse. He’d been so careful for so long to keep his true purpose at bay, yet Richard Wexley was an insightful man. He didn’t miss much, and Ragan’s brief show of concern had clearly been noted and logged.
Heading for the doors, they worked quickly down to a large, industrial sized elevator and stepped inside. The lab was one of several in the building and towards its summ
it, up above the main command centre at its middle that stretched over several floors, and near to Commander Wexley’s personal quarters.
It was, truly, a secret within a secret, set on a private floor accessible to only a few high ranking officials, scientists, and agents. Only those with the highest security clearance in the CID actually knew of Chloe Phantom’s true purpose. Within the general framing of the nation’s security network, very few people really knew just why she was being hunted. And the same was the case elsewhere.
In fact, most bounty hunters and trackers were out of the loop. Whether seeking her out for private gain, or through orders issued by their government, the vast majority knew only that Chloe was important, without knowing just why. Rumours abounded on the subject, and many will have come very close to determining the truth. Yet still, only few had confirmation. And thus, here in the CID, the entire enterprise and hunt for Chloe remained very cloak and dagger.
It was a fact that had always given Ragan hope that he’d be able to extricate Chloe when the time came. His clearance, though not as high as the likes of Commander Wexley, had made him privy to the protocol if, and when, she was brought in. Moreover, he’d helped devise that very process himself.
Now, as they dropped down in the elevator several floors, he felt a tingle of excitement that it was all coming to fruition. Reaching the correct, unnumbered level that gave access to the secret lab, Commander Wexley’s unique DNA signature was read and the elevator doors opened. The floor was quiet, all but empty. It didn’t have the same energy as the others, the hustle and bustle, the busyness of intelligent officers and research technicians and agents at work.
Here, only a few people ever came.
Only a few people even knew it was here.
They moved down an unmarked white corridor, no doors on either side, and reached a room at the core of the building. Wexley’s signature was read, and access given. The door opened, revealing the small lab set with a single purpose, built for the unconscious girl lying upon a stretcher.
Ragan’s eyes took in the room as they entered, and fell upon Doc, making his final preparations alongside two other technicians. The man had a scholarly and erudite disposition, his frame withered from a rare forgetfulness that only seemed to apply when remembering to eat. In truth, his mind forgot nothing, and his habit of missing meals was a mere symptom of his nature. Doc was a workaholic, and a true genius. He was the sort of man who looked to squeeze all he could from every single day, who grew frustrated at the thought of losing his faculties before he’d accomplished all he could.
He was, in fact, very much the sort of man who was tantalised by the prospect of ever-lasting life, of transferring his own consciousness into a body that could live forever.
And for that very reason, the hunt for Chloe Phantom had become an obsession.
As they entered, he turned quickly with wide eyes, and shuffled over to the stretcher. Before even acknowledging the presence of Wexley or Ragan, he reached out with his palm and gently cupped Chloe’s cheek.
“My goodness me, you really did find her.”
Then his small, beady eyes worked straight up to Ragan. He shook his head, and a smile of delight and gratification marched across his pallid, unhealthy face.
“Ragan, you wonderful, wonderful man,” he said. “Today, you have changed the world. You will go down in history for this. You will always be remembered for this.”
Ragan tried to act gracious, but Doc’s words had sent his thoughts to dark places. His smile was artificial and oddly arranged. When he said, “Thank you, Doc,” it came out awkward and unnatural.
The stretcher was moved towards a machine at the centre of the room. It was a full body scanner, a sleek white tube into which Chloe would be inserted. The machines used to insert and remove nanites from the body were similar. This, however, had been altered to suit a specific purpose.
With a little more care this time, the guards lifted Chloe into a mould extended from the tube. Ragan unfastened her restraints, setting her hands and feet in place. His fingers slipped across hers as he set them down, the touch enough to speed his pulse for a beat or two. He looked at her peaceful, sleeping face, and stepped away with his promise echoing through his mind.
I will keep you safe. I will set you free…
He felt a hand fall upon his shoulder as he stepped back, pulling him to the side of the room. Commander Wexley fixed his eyes with a scrutinising, probing stare.
“You like the girl,” he said. It was a statement of fact, not a question.
“No, sir, of course I…”
“It’s OK to admit it, soldier,” said Wexley. “She has been your focus for a long time, and she is a striking beauty. But be careful with those feelings of yours. You know the crimes she’s committed in this nation, let alone elsewhere. Once the data has been extracted, she will need to answer for them.”
“I…understand, sir. After today, you can do what you wish with her. I’ve done my job, and I’m looking forward to the next assignment.”
Commander Wexley’s eyes stayed on Ragan for a second longer, only broken when a humming sounded across the room. Both men looked over together to find the machine coming to life, the little extension on which Chloe lay slowly being drawn into the tube.
Doc was delirious, his chest heaving heavily.
“This is it,” he breathed. “We can finally complete the puzzle.”
“And how long will the machine take?” asked Wexley.
“Not long,” said Doc. “A few minutes only. In a few minutes time, we’ll have the secret to transference, to the singularity, to everlasting life. We will be gods, Commander! Gods!”
“Settle down there, Doc,” said Wexley. “I don’t want you tempting fate. Who knows if the data is still intact. Who knows if it hasn’t been corrupted by now. Now do your job, and stay quiet until it’s done. And you three,” he said, looking to the three guards. “You get outside and guard the corridor. There are too many damn people in this room.”
The orders were taken on, the guards stepping out as the door locked tight behind them, Doc retreating to his shell and fell quiet. Wexley took a breath, his anxiety clear. He wasn’t one for getting ahead of himself. Until he had the data extracted and analysed, he wouldn’t crack another smile.
And though Ragan always liked his boss here at the CID, in this case, he hoped he’d never smile again.
29
“Extraction in progress, Doc. Readouts looking good.”
A technician sat at a bank of monitors, looking over the lines of random code and mumbo jumbo spreading across them. Another was monitoring Chloe’s vital signs and the state of the nanites to ensure no damage was being done.
“Condition holding steady. All functions normal.”
Doc, meanwhile, was at the machine itself, peering in through a little glass window at Chloe’s face. He was intermittently moving from the machine and over to the monitors, reading the code like some character in The Matrix.
“This is…staggering stuff,” he was whispering to himself. “I would…could never have thought of that.” His words were mixed with both awe and a note of despondency. He was clearly realising his work would never match up to Professor Phantom, who just happened to be his idol. “Commander Wexley, this is light years ahead of what anyone else is doing. It’s all we hoped for and more…”
Wexley was starting to relax a little, gliding slowly around the room with his efficient military step.
“That’s very good news, Doc. I can tell you’re excited, but until that data disk is in my hands…”
“Yes, of course, Commander. It’s just…it’s so…beautiful. Such beautiful work…”
“Doc,” murmured Wexley authoritatively.
“OK, I’ll…I’ll stop,” said Doc, his eyes still straining as they looked upon the endless streams of information. Then, almost immediately, he began whispering to himself again, and shaking his head in wonder as he did.
As the rest went to
work, Ragan watched from the side, completely still, doing some work of his own.
His mind was focused on his task, which he was mentally walking through, step by step, to ensure nothing was missed. Really, it was as simple as he’d hoped and expected. As soon as the data was transferred to the disk and handed to Commander Wexley, he’d draw his dart-gun and put them all out of commission. Then it would simply be a case of taking the disk and disabling the three men outside, leaving a clear path for his and Chloe’s escape. With the element of surprise, the guards wouldn’t see him coming. It should be easy enough.
He went through it all, over and over, as the minutes passed by. After about five of them, Wexley was asking Doc just why it was taking so long.
“You said a few minutes, Doc. What’s the hold up?”
“The data, Commander. It’s more extensive than we thought.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Oh, absolutely. A wonderful thing. It will take time to properly decode and put together, like a puzzle of a million pieces. But the effort will be more than worth it.”
“Decode?” queried Wexley. “How are you reading it if it’s coded?”
“Oh, well only portions of it are in code, sir. Some is readable if you know what you’re looking at.”
Commander Wexley glanced over at Ragan as he worked his way around the room.
“These boffins, huh,” he whispered. “It’s like they speak and read in a different language.”
He moved off with a grin.
Ragan, however, had barely registered what he said. Something inside him had taken a brief hold of his attention, some warning deep within. It came slowly, building from nothing, a strange preternatural sense he’d always had.
He looked to the others around the room. They were all continuing their work, undistracted, the room mostly quiet but for the slow, methodical placement of Wexley’s step as he worked around the room, Doc’s unintelligible mutterings, and the gentle hum of the scanning machine in which Chloe lay.
Ragan listened intently, trying to sift through the noise.