“Any issues?” The general scratched at his massive jaw with a metal gauntlet.
“Nada.”
Their voices were so unnaturally low and booming that I could hear them converse even as I was still being being hemmed up by the Marine commander on my right. It was a surreal contrast. The three Commandos watched the show for a time, until the commander received a tablet from one of his camo fatigued marines, stopped yelling at me and started filling out some information.
The hulking driver of the ground transport tilted his head to get his General’s attention. “Hey, uh,” he pointed at me, his expression consternated, “have they always been able to, you know —” then, he flicked his index finger back and forth motioning from his own forehead to Hardcastle’s, “— ‘connect’ to the fucking space ships?!”
“Oh, that.” A look of complete disgust passed over the General. “That’s new tech. Relatively.”
“Huh. He fucking had the drop on us for a second.”
General Hardcastle’s interest piqued dramatically at this news: his blue eyes widened, brows raised. He almost seemed impressed. “No shit? This one here?!”
“Yeah, Chief,” the other Commando chimed in. ‘Chief’. What the fuck does that mean? “Seemed like he had control of his fighter and he wasn’t even in the cockpit.”
“Well Seven-Suns,” Hardcastle exhaled audibly; it sounded like a bear moaning. The Marine commander finished filling out the informatino, and didn’t skip a beat, “What was I saying? Oh yeah— FUCKING ROBOT BRAINED SACK OF PISS —”
“I never heard of that,” General Hardcastle remarked. “That’s an unusually strong connection, but he was compromised, emotionally. Major offense. That’s why I never liked that program. Like why the fuck did Unity segregate itself from the Robot Colony after the war, just to try and combine man and machine later?!”
“You said it, Chief. Gives me the willies just thinking about a computer in my head. Fuck that.”
“Yeah, well, he blew his chance,” General Hardcastle shifted his buster assault rifle and handed it to his guard, a Commando in crimson combat armor, complete with helmet shaped to look like an expressionless tomb mask from some ancient time even before the origin of the marines. The general adjusted his massive cape clasped at the shoulder by an enormous medal of honor, and prepared to depart, having overseen my turnover. “I would’ve blasted the two of you goons to the nether-dimension and hightailed my ass to the nearest Cosmic Gate if I were him.”
“That’s what I was thinking!” the Gleesian-rapist blurted.
“That’s why you’re a hard-dick operator, not a zap-headed pilot, kid,” Hardcastle replied, encouragingly elbowing his subordinate. The ‘kid’ looked like he had just been promoted to Admiral, totally starstruck. “Savoy, Lenix,” the General nodded respectively to the transport driver, and then to the other ‘kid’ operator who could only be Lenix. “Thanks for escorting this turd. I’ll put a good word in to your Squad Leader. See him to his cell, then go fuck something.”
“Thank you, Chief!” said Lenix.
“Chief,” Savoy grunted solemnly.
And with that, General Grigg Hardcastle made for the exit without so much as a look in my direction. He was done with me.
“ATTEN- HUT!” the Officer of the Watch called out, as was proper military custom when a flag-officer was leaving the premises. All of the Marines—including the commander—snapped to sharp attention until the General was out of earshot and well on his way. Savoy and Lenix displayed no such respect, gaping after their idol with bent knees and slouched shoulders. A quietness came over the room. Then with no one left to try and impress, the Marine commander simply ordered:
“Take this fucking shitstain to a cell.”
I sat alone on the cement cot that was floating a few feet above the ground. There was nothing in the cell with me; no windows, not even a toilet. Three walls of my isolation box were slate grey, the other was a charged and barred sliding door. I visually examined two of the bars, which were bent radically. One of the Commandos—Savoy—had warped them with his hand before they departed.
“Hey, LT,” Savoy had said before he did it, “why didn’t you run, man?”
I stared blankly up at the hulking operator as the cell door clanked shut between us. His head almost touched the ceiling. I was taken aback, because Savoy seemed genuinely curious.
“I definitely would have run,” Lenix commented. “Rather than get my brain sucked up.”
Savoy ignored his partner. “Do you understand what’s going on right now?” he asked me.
I shook my head and shrugged. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Lenix found my reply hilarious. “This ain’t about right and wrong! What’s that got to do with anything?! Wait —” he put his hand on the smooth surface of Savoy’s armored shoulder and pointed at me with the other, “is he Tier 1?!”
“No,” Savoy responded. “He is—was— Tier 2.”
Lenix lost it again, bursting into a new fit of laughter. “Oh, brother! You’re not even Tier 1?! No wonder!”
My confusion must have been obvious, and Lenix (despite his childish outbursts) caught on right away. “Every Commando is Tier 1, bitch,” he gloated. I had no idea that their fucked-up chain of command worked that way. I guess, because I was Tier 2.
Savoy remained serious and thoughtful. “Listen, Derringer,” he spoke at that moment almost as a friend, “I know a few Tier 1 SpaceWing pilots well. Solid men. Your kind has gotten us out of more than a few tight spots. If you want —”
And that’s when he reached out his gauntleted hand, grabbed two of the bars in his fist at once, and squeezed. His power-suit absorbed the electric current flowing through the cell door; the inch-wide, superalloy bars might as well have been made of aluminium foil to him. Savoy deformed them like it was nothing. Then he finished his proposal: “— I can end it quick for you.”
“Daaaamn, LT, you should take him up on that!” Lenix cackled.
Savoy waited a few moments, giving me time to reply. When I didn’t, he looked down at me with what seemed like pity. “Warriors live by a code that the others will never understand. This is no way for a warrior to be rewarded… but this is the universe we live in.”
“Warriors live and die as men,” Lenix—suddenly contemplative—beat his chest once with his fist.
“As true, fucking, men, Derringer,” Savoy fervently agreed, “and they will take that from you.”
And then he said one last thing to me, the most scandalous sentence uttered to me in a very long time... words that sent a chill up my spine: “They will take your spirit.”
Savoy and Lenix sauntered away down the corridor of the prison block.
“Hey, you remember Crazy Larry?!” Lenix’s voice echoed over the doom-doom-doom of their booted footsteps.
“Fuck yeah, he was awesome.”
“They sent him to get Reprogrammed, too, right?!”
They were almost out of earshot.
“They sent him,” Savoy answered, “but everyone knows he escaped.”
“Yeah!! That’s what happens when you try to Reprogram a Commando! Man, I bet he’s just living it up on some alien moon with like fifty wives!”
“Right? Can you imagine?!”
Their booming giants’ laughter was the last I heard of them.
Reprogramming. I couldn’t believe something that had begun as a joke today was now the only thing on my mind. Reprogramming. Nitro was right—it was nothing to joke about. It was a reality of Unity life, but one that was repressed in every way possible. Citizens, military, government officials alike—everyone considered it to be taboo, speaking about it only in hushed tones or more likely, not at all. Most tried to not even think about it… as if doing so might somehow render it a reality, a possibility. The exact process and the qualifying parameters for Reprogramming were known only to the highest authorities, but I did know that the technology was developed by the Robots—not by humans. It was a primary cat
alyst for the Robot Wars. When Artificial Intelligence surpassed human intelligence, a newly formed Robot Government declared independence from Unity—and then went a step further, announcing that their ultimate purpose was: “To achieve True Order. True Purpose.” Some kind of an Optimum State-of-Being in the Universe. They extended their mandate to organic beings which they now considered to be inferior, and as such the Robot’s considered it their responsibility as the more advanced race to ‘optimize’ humanity as they saw fit. They began by addressing population control with genocide—and thus began the wars. Not all of the Robots’ methods were lethal, however, and they would commonly detain desirable POW’s in “Mind Camps,” internment facilities which housed machines that were said to alter one’s consciousness, so one’s very will would assimilate and accept the Robot perspective. When the Robots lost the war and were expelled from Unity Space… their mind-bending technology remained.
For some time I was left alone. I imagined an investigation was underway and that the military was building its case against me. Right now I was being ‘iced’—left with my thoughts in solitary confinement for an undisclosed duration so that I would get in my own head and eventually crack from the stress. I felt like it was working. I went over everything again. Everything that had happened could be interpreted and judged in varying ways. I realized that I would need to prove that I made the only call that I thought would get us out. Seriously, court martial?! I hadn’t stepped a toe out of line my entire life. I understood what I was: I was a piece of the puzzle, and it was my job to take the correct shape in my life so that I would fit in with the rest of the picture that was Unity. I didn’t hold a grudge toward the non-military Earth citizens and their posh life and wild parties; since a very young age, I accepted that I was a star pilot through and through, and my life was fulfilling… it left me satisfied with my past efforts, and eager to advance to the next level allotted to me. If human history has taught us anything, it’s that the pursuit of selfish wants and desires which don’t coincide with the overall human mission are detrimental and dangerous.
And yet, having witnessed the cavalier Space Commandos in person and observed something of their perspective on life, I couldn’t help but contemplate if I was more naive than everybody else for choosing to follow the rules and adapt my mindset to Unity progress. Was everything I believed in just a sham?! It was impossible to know for sure. What with years of specialized training and a segregated military life, I essentially lived in a bubble and got most of my information about the goings on of the outside universe from second-hand sources. Tier 1 status would certainly help, but then, I really had no idea of everything that being a Tier 1 guy entailed. It was forbidden, strictly forbidden, for Tier 1 personnel to disseminate information deemed to be highly sensitive to anyone of a lesser Tier. The government took that one extremely seriously—information was power, and in the eyes of Unity, power did not belong in everyone’s hands. Only the chosen. Even when Celeste had offered to share something with me secretly, I had always refused, never allowing myself to even dream of putting her in jeopardy by accepting such a thing. Celeste... what would happen to us now? All our dreams of finally living on Earth together... As I sat on my floating cot, the hard, cold stone as unforgiving as my situation, I wondered what ‘highly sensitive’ even meant…
“‘Highly sensitive’ is probably the best way to describe you.”
There was a voice in the cell; I whipped up to standing and faced the bent-up bars that held me captive, expecting someone to be on the other side.
“Who’s there?!” I called out. Even though the voice seemed familiar, I was entirely on edge.
“That’s the wrong question. Who is where would be the better one.”
“What?! Where are you! I’ve had enough of this —”
ZZZZZEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
Suddenly, my head was exploding; an ear splitting ringing put me on the ground. It was agony. “Aghhhhhhh!!!!!!”
My eyes rolled back, I was seeing white.
“Derringer!!! Max!!!”
The voice was in my head. I knew that voice…
“Ted, you’ve got to breathe! Focus! Breathe, relax! Just BREATHE!!!”
My body convulsed involuntarily.
“Come on Derringer! Don’t puss out on me now, god dammit!”
I only knew one female with a mouth like that.
“Guuuhhhhh… Harley?!”
“Yes! It’s me! I’m using your neural link implant so you’ve got to focus or I’ll have to disconnect! Come on, calm down!”
My head was on fire. Every word she spoke ripped it apart again. I tried to take a breath, but choked on foam.
“Come on, easy Max, easy, breathe with me… IN… and out… IN…. and out.”
At first, her coaching did nothing to help. But she persisted… and gradually… I began to breathe with the rhythm of her voice… “Yes,” she sang, “yes, Max… just relax. Breathe...”
Then my body responded. My eyes began to refocus. My face was sticking to the floor—I was laying in a pool of my own vomit. The puke oozed away from me in ripples every time I exhaled… I hadn’t been worked like that since the first months after my augmentation. My body trembled.
“Oh Max,” Stone said, “When I said to break a rule, I didn’t mean this.”
Then as the finer details of my world came fully back into focus, there she was in the cell with me. Fucking Harley Stone. She could find me anywhere.
Her body wasn’t real. I had to accept that she was an image created in my mind by the implant, or else I’d go back into convulsions. It was difficult to hold this type of concentration—extremely.
“How,” I gasped, “How did you get in my head?!”
“We all have our specialties, love. Mine just happens to be getting into men's heads. In more ways than one.” She gave a cute, flirty smile, the dimples on her cheeks complimenting it beautifully and her sapphire eyes were sparkling just like they were during our night together on Cantus 9…
“I… can anyone just do this to me?!”
“Oh, Max, I wouldn’t worry about that. If you can find someone able to pull off what I am right now, well, I would let you put it in my—”
“OK, OK… please just…” I dragged myself back onto the floating cot, then put my face between my head. I was completely spent. “Just give me a minute.”
“Well suck it up, Derringer,” she chided with zeal while sauntering around the cell, brushing her imaginary fingers against the walls and examining the corners as if I planned to make a home of it. “We don’t have much time. You’re in a lot of trouble, and... I’ve got some information for you.”
I picked my head up and sighed. She was right. This needed conversation needed to happen right now. “What can you tell me?”
Stone came and ‘sat’ on the stone slab with me. I felt a wave of nausea hit me, as I imagined how exactly she might be projecting herself in my mind. I knew it was through the neural link, but I couldn’t grasp where her actual body was, and how she had connected to me. I concentrated on the simple things. Breathe. Relax. It didn’t really matter if she was a projection or not. She was with me, for now. That was what mattered.
“First off, you don’t have to speak. I’m in your head, and a recording of you talking to yourself in your cell isn’t going to help your case.”
I tried responding with just my thoughts. “Ok.”
“Good, that’s better.”
Easy enough.
They are considering two options for you,” she told me. “Imprisonment or Reprogramming.”
“Seriously?! But it doesn’t make sense. What was I supposed to do?”
“It doesn’t matter—what matters is what you did.”
“I did my DUTY!”
“True. But to Unity, the manner in which you perform your duty is equally as important. That’s the issue. Unfortunately, Max, Ensign Elfen Beazley was the son of the Admiral Beazley who is, obviously, a very powerful man. He’s closely m
onitoring the proceedings here and won’t just let this go away. Someone has to pay, and he wants it to be you.”
“How can they say I was emotionally compromised and not blink an eye when this Admiral Beazley—father or not—gets involved for personal reasons?! I’m not to blame! We got ambushed!”
“Ted, I know that. I’m on your side. But it’s the same thing I’ve always said to you: the world is not black and white. It never has been, never will be. Unity wants everyone to think that they can change human nature with all their structure and control, but they can’t because not even the people making the rules follow them!”
“You sound like the Commandos, when you say things like that.”
“Space Commandos? What do they have to do with anything?”
“Oh, yeah. They sent two to escort me from my Phantom to the brig. Seems like they just do whatever they want.”
“Wow. I can’t believe they did that!”
I couldn’t believe there was something Stone didn’t already know.
“Well I guess it’s because we aren’t Tier 1. I’ve realized that I have no idea what Tier 1 really means.”
Harley grinned. “No, you don’t. It’s much more than being allowed to fuck that commander you’re so obsessed with.” Celeste. She must have been distraught, and all because of me. “You’ll be happy to know, by the way, that she’s fighting for you. Putting herself on the line, really. After reviewing the combat data she was swayed over to your way of seeing things.”
“Well that’s a little bit of good news,” I muttered in my head. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“You’re going to be court martialed so I imagine they will assign some Ensign to be your lawyer. You’ll go over your case with your lawyer and then go to trial. Normally you’d have an impartial judge but since the fleet is deploying, it will be Admiral Bradson.”
“Who is being pressured by Admiral Beazley to lay down the hammer on me. Great.”
“Well...” Harley’s face darkened, seeming to push through the words. “Don’t underestimate your friend Celeste,” Harley said to my astonishment. “She is Bradson’s personal assistant— her recommendation will carry weight.”
Alpha Wing Page 4
