Jeremiah shook his head. “Like your relationships are better.” He immediately regretted saying it, knowing Marschenko would be reminded of Lily.
Marschenko’s face fell.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, froggycat. Besides,” Marschenko smiled and raised his eyebrows a few times in rapid succession as his expression changed to a leer, “I got no problems in the bedroom.”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” Jeremiah said.
“When you’re as big as I am—”
“I really don’t want to hear about it.”
“At any rate, a professional relationship is best. You wouldn’t believe what some of these girls will do. They charge a lot but they’re worth every dime.” He pulled at Jeremiah’s flight suit. “Plus they don’t have static cling.”
Jeremiah laughed as he yanked his arm away. He pretended to look out the window. “I certainly misjudged Lendra—had no idea she was so driven, so hard.”
“Well, you’re free of her now. She can’t get her hooks in you on the Moon.”
“First useful thing you’ve said all day.”
Marschenko grinned. He tapped Jeremiah’s shoulder a couple of times. “You’re a good guy, Jones. You’re a helluva guy.”
“Don’t start. You know I don’t like that.”
“That’s why I gotta say it. What you did to me—for me—letting me get all that crap out of my system, letting me regain my humanity. You could’ve killed me. Maybe you should’ve. I owe you everything. And I hope I get the chance to make up for what I did. Whatever it takes, I’m gonna make it right.”
Jeremiah smiled. “I’m glad you’re with me, Jack.”
Five years ago, Jeremiah’s four-year-old son had been abducted as part of a program to create super fighters. Marschenko had been the instrument Carlton and Elias Leach—Jeremiah’s old boss at CINTEP—used to snatch him. He’d been so programmed and conditioned that he hadn’t understood his actions were wrong. But in the last year, Marschenko had redeemed himself by helping Jeremiah learn as much as he could about the program, which collected children with favorable DNA and performed genetic surgery on them, inserting “animal” DNA and nanotechnology into their bodies, thereby creating child soldiers who would someday be almost indestructible.
They’d taken Joshua because of Jeremiah, because his genetic makeup was favorable to the kind of chimeric surgery that created what many people called a pseudo—part man, part animal.
Jeremiah’s DNA had been altered, and though he still looked and felt like a man, his strength, speed, endurance and healing ability were all enhanced. And Marschenko was an EO trooper—part man, part machine: nano-analyzers and regenerators, miniature hormone delivery systems dispersed throughout his blood supply—who could, when wired into his Las-rifle or particle beam cannon through his helmet, fire as quickly as he could think to do it—faster and more accurately than a normal human.
Now the machine and the animal were trying to save the son, who had become both.
“I forgave you, Jack,” Jeremiah said.
“I know.” Marschenko laid a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. “I know. But I had to say it again.”
“How do you feel?”
“Nervous,” Marschenko said. “I don’t trust myself anymore. I wonder what they’re gonna do to my mind, whether they’ll alter it without my knowledge like they did before. Maybe they’ll program me to betray you.”
“We talked about that ad nauseum. We have to go ahead with the plan, assume that we can make it work. I trust you whether you like it or not.”
Marschenko pointed to the Moon, which looked only a few miles away. Jeremiah gazed at the lunar surface, the desert-like vastness of rock into which the hangar of Lunar Base 1 had been constructed, its plas-glass roof showing people moving about beneath it.
“You still planning to see Devereaux?” Marschenko asked.
“You think I shouldn’t?”
Marschenko shrugged. “I don’t know how much he can help. He’s got a lot of enemies.”
“True. But he’s the smartest man I ever met. If anybody can help me get Joshie back, he can.”
“Joshie?”
Jeremiah sighed. “That’s what Catherine used to call him. He may not remember the name Joshua. I’m hoping he’ll remember his nickname.”
“You know what you’re gonna say to him?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past two days. I still have no idea.”
Marschenko nodded. “Maybe open with, ‘Ribbit.’” He laughed. “Almost made you smile there. Hey, why do you think the pseudos—sorry, the Escala—are still at Lunar Base 2? They were supposed to have headed for Mars weeks ago.”
“I don’t know,” Jeremiah said. “Something weird is going on. I’m not sure what. But I can feel it in my gut. It’s tied to why we’ve had to wait so long to get up here. And it’s probably tied to Devereaux. I’m not sure if Eli has something to do with it or not. All I know is it’s going to be bad.”
“Trying to cheer me up?” Marschenko said.
Jeremiah nodded. “If we’re lucky, there’ll be a nice big battle.”
They stared out the window, lost in their thoughts. Then Marschenko said, “Know what I’m worried about? The Escala. I know I’ve got no reason to, but . . .” he looked around, lowered his voice. “Hell, you’re one too. Lately I even feel it around you. A kind of tension—like there’s something wrong with you because you’ve got animal DNA in your body. Like you’re evil.” Marschenko shook his head. “I don’t know how to overcome it. You feel anything like that for me? For the Elite Ops?”
“No,” Jeremiah said. “I have this rage growing inside. But it’s not directed at you. It’s more an urge to lash out at everyone.”
Marschenko smirked. “That’s just your natural personality.”
Jeremiah smiled. They were both edgy. He said, “You’ll be fine, Frank. When it all goes down, I’ll be able to count on you. I know it.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith, froggycat,” Marschenko said.
A quiet chime sounded and a pleasant female voice said over the loudspeaker: “Return to your seats. Prepare for landing. Arrival in thirty minutes.”
“It’s going to be tough,” Marschenko said. “Once I’m back in uniform, I’ll be under constant surveillance. You will too. I don’t know when or if we’ll get a chance to chat like this again. Too bad you can’t wear an interface.”
“I tried,” Jeremiah replied. “The migraines became incapacitating.”
They made their way back to their seats. Marschenko sat quietly, staring at the floor. Jeremiah knew he was psyching himself up for the mission. He had the harder role to play. Jeremiah just had to be himself: a father searching for his missing son.
With the help of Marschenko and Lendra, not to mention the classified databases he still had access to from his days at CINTEP, Jeremiah had studied everything he could find about Lunar Base 3—the top-secret facility where his son was being held, where Josh was being trained as some kind of ultimate fighter—memorizing its layout, getting a feel for its strengths and weaknesses. But the amount of information available was limited.
The LTV’s retro rockets activated, causing a sensation like being caught by a bungee cord after a long drop. Several passengers screamed in delight. The touchdown at Lunar Base 1 came with only a slight bump. As the LTV taxied to the hangar, the intercom warned them of the potential for injury due to the lower gravitational pull of the Moon. After the LTV’s hatch sealed against the hangar and the “all clear” sounded, Marschenko, nodding reassuringly, gestured for Jeremiah to go first.
Jeremiah followed a pair of research scientists in the row ahead of him off the ship. He grabbed the railing on the wheeled staircase and descended toward the surface of the Moon.
The hangar, about the size of a football field and thirty feet tall, constructed almost entirely of graphene-aluminum, smelled of chlorophyll: clean, unpolluted air. Genetically modified ivy climbed the walls all the way to the plas-glass ceiling, beyond which Earth shone brightly. Hundreds of other plants grew, scattered throughout the hangar, pumping out oxygen—mostly shrubs and bushes, with a few dwarf fruit trees and vegetable gardens. Amongst the greenery, walking paths wound, while off to his right he saw a red Marriott sign and a café decorating the space in front of the hotel. A handful of people sat at tables sipping coffee or tea and watching the new arrivals with interest. The sheer normalcy of the scene made Jeremiah want to cry. Just fatigue, he decided, and the realization that he was close to Joshua now.
“Steady, froggycat,” he heard Marschenko whisper.
Only when he reached the bottom and stepped off the staircase, did Jeremiah notice the lower gravity. The staircase had acted on his mock-gravity flight suit, so he’d still felt 1G of force until he was clear of it. Now he felt practically weightless, like he could almost fly if he put his mind to it. With each step, he bounced, nearly propelling himself into the air. He noted the other passengers struggling with their decreased weight too, practically bounding into the air. The girl, Kyler, showed no such restraint. She leapt high off the ground, bouncing along, yelling, “Whee!” while her parents blushed. Kaylee held firmly to her mother’s hand as they collected their luggage. She caught a glimpse of Jeremiah staring at her and this time she didn’t turn away.
When Jeremiah waved, she waved back. Her mother noticed the movement and smiled at Jeremiah as she hoisted Kaylee onto her hip. After the family headed for the hotel, he grabbed his bag. Beside him, as Marschenko reached for his duffel, the big EO whispered, “You, sir, are my enemy.” Then he winked at Jeremiah before turning away.
Jeremiah counted a dozen soldiers roaming the hangar, alert, serious. They stared at him. Did they all know of Lunar Base 3’s existence? Were they tasked with stopping him from retrieving his son? The mere sight of them brought a longing for battle. Clenching his fists several times, he took a deep breath and held it, waiting for the rage to subside.
Two large unarmored Elite Ops troopers stepped forward as Marschenko strode toward them. They stared at Jeremiah before one grabbed Marschenko’s bag. The other clapped Marschenko on the back and steered him toward the military section. Marschenko, stopping for a moment, glanced up through the hangar’s plas-glass ceiling at Earth, as if admiring the view, then lowered his head and glared at Jeremiah. He took a step in Jeremiah’s direction before one of the EOs said, “Let it go, Jack.”
“Had to fly all the way up here with that bastard,” Marschenko muttered as they walked away. “In the next seat. If he’d a slept at all, I’d a squeezed his neck until his head popped off.”
Jeremiah turned toward the open tunnelway housing the monorails that led to Lunar Base 2, the scientific area where the Escala were housed. Two highly polished rails disappeared around a corner. Two personal transportation cars sat on the left rail. Jeremiah checked the time on his PlusPhone, though he had no reason to do so. His appointment with Admiral Cho wasn’t until the day after tomorrow.
He walked to the Marriott’s check-in desk and waited behind the young couple chatting with the clerk. Again he felt conflicting emotions, wanting either to punch someone or cry. He suddenly flashed on Josh’s last birthday, two months ago. Jeremiah had deliberately stayed away from home, performing a security check for a company in Virginia. His frustration at being delayed in coming to the Moon had made him want to just get through the day without having to think about Josh’s birthday. He’d even gone out for a few drinks with Marschenko, returning to his apartment well after midnight.
Lendra had fallen asleep waiting for him, lying stretched across the bed in her sexiest lingerie, a lacy red number that never failed to excite Jeremiah. She’d been trying for weeks to entice Jeremiah into having a child. Probably she figured to take advantage of his loneliness on Joshua’s birthday. Instead, something about the position of her body reminded Jeremiah of Catherine on the night she gave up hoping for Joshua’s return and succumbed to eternal slumber, seeking a reunion with her son in death.
Rather than wake Lendra, Jeremiah had slept fitfully on the sofa, slipping out of the apartment early. He’d let Lendra sulk quietly for a few days afterwards and then reminded her that he intended never to father another child.
When the family finished checking in, Jeremiah stepped forward and got his room assignment. The clerk, after a perfunctory explanation of the hotel’s features that Jeremiah barely absorbed, directed him down a carved tunnel to his left.
He reached his door, a heavy metal slab that sealed against a silicone gasket, used his palm print to unlock it and let himself inside.
Queen size bed, chair, bureau, small closet and bathroom with shower, sink and toilet: the space looked much like a hotel room on Earth. But on the wall opposite the foot of the bed, a huge screen displayed an image of Earth against a black background punctured by millions of stars, more than could ever be seen through the atmosphere of Earth—probably a live feed from a camera installed on the hangar ceiling. Fighting nausea, Jeremiah found the remote and deactivated the screen, then doffed his flight suit and stepped into the shower.
It sprayed a mist of conditioned water that served to wash and rinse at the same time, turning off automatically after two minutes so a blast of warm air could dry him thoroughly.
As he changed into a T-shirt and shorts, he thought about how Marschenko had assisted him, kept him from going stir crazy on the ship, and how he had known about the Venus figurines. He continually surprised Jeremiah: a man of complexity and greater intelligence than Jeremiah had first given him credit for. Would he, as he feared, betray Jeremiah when they pumped him full of chemicals and hormones again? Jeremiah doubted it. Apart from Devereaux, Ned Jefferson and a couple other CINTEP ghosts he used to work with, Marschenko was the only man Jeremiah trusted.
Despite the fact that it was still early evening Lunar time, Jeremiah fell onto the bed and finally slept.
Chapter Two
Jeremiah awoke to a stunning sunrise of red, orange and pink: a golden orb off to his left slowly rising toward the ceiling—an artificial dawn playing out on his hotel room walls. He vaguely recalled the clerk mentioning it when he checked in. He found the remote and turned the sunrise off, leaving the room bathed in soft light.
A quiet feminine voice informed him that breakfast was being served in the lobby adjacent to the hangar. After almost three days with only nutri-water, he felt ravenous. He dressed in dark slacks and a shirt made of shimmer cloth that changed color with the light, giving it a rainbow hue, and made his way to the lobby, where he ate a tasty soy omelet laced with vegetarian cheese and sausage, lunar hash browns from Moon-grown potatoes, and three blueberry muffins.
Then he made his way to the monorail leading to Lunar Base 2, stepped into a car and took the three-minute journey. When he reached the end of the line, he exited into a smooth tunnel decorated by genetically modified grape vines. Glow globes drifted near the ceiling. A door marked Escala Reception stood ajar. He entered, finding a small room that had a faintly musky aroma. Three Escala teenagers looked up at him from where they sat around a table playing a holographic game Jeremiah didn’t recognize.
“I’m looking for Quark,” he said.
They stood and moved to surround him, hands clenching into fists. They moved slowly in the lower gravity, gliding across the floor. The smallest one stood just over six feet tall, weighing a little more than two hundred pounds Earth-weight—about Jeremiah’s size. All three looked muscular.
“He’s busy,” the largest boy said, taking a step forward. An aura of menace radiated from him and made Jeremiah’s hair stand on end. He tensed, knowing he projected the same aura—a wild animal about to attack.
Jeremiah could tell the
teen wasn’t a fighter by his stance—just a big strong boy. Of course, he was the son of a scientist, probably intending to become one himself. Likely they all were. Jeremiah didn’t want to hurt them.
“Nice reception area,” he said.
The boy pointed to the door. “Leave.”
Jeremiah backed up a step, his hands spread wide, thinking about how he would have to adjust his fighting technique. On the Moon he weighed only thirty-five pounds. If he jumped in the air, he would fly higher and take much longer to return to the ground. Against these boys, he wouldn’t have to worry. But against the guards at Lunar Base 3, he might have a problem. He blinked three times, centered himself in his stone dungeon, and said, “I don’t want to hurt you, kid.”
A slight rustling sounded behind him. A woman said, “What’s going on here?”
Jeremiah turned. A dark-haired woman filled the doorway, hands at her sides, broad shoulders tense. She stood a few inches taller than Jeremiah, and her brown eyes showed a wary hostility. When she stepped forward, she radiated a kind of danger, as if she were protecting her cubs. Jeremiah guessed she was the mother of one of them.
Jeremiah said, “I’m looking for Quark.”
“You look familiar,” the big woman said. “Who are you?”
“My name is Jeremiah Jones.”
“Jeremiah?” she said. The boys gasped.
“Krall, go get Quark,” the woman said.
“Yes, Quekri,” the largest boy replied. He turned to Jeremiah, bowed and said, “Jeremiah. I remember you.” He left through the open door, skirting Quekri with his head down. The other boys sidled to the doorway. Then they too said, “Jeremiah. I remember you.”
When they left, Jeremiah looked at Quekri and raised an eyebrow.
She said, “Quark and Devereaux told us what you did. Thank you.”
Jeremiah nodded, uncomfortable. “I only did what I had to.”
“You saved Devereaux’s life, our lives. The Elite Ops would have killed us if you hadn’t stopped them.”
The Susquehanna Virus Box Set Page 43