by Jan Domagala
“Yes, sir, I see you’ve beefed up the security somewhat,” Stryder replied with a sardonic smile.
“Yes, I thought it about time.”
“Granted, but don’t you think it smacks of closing the stable door after the horse has bolted, just a little?”
“Your opinion is thus noted Captain, but Baxter here doesn’t share your sense of doom. Tell him, Doctor.”
Stryder turned to the doctor not daring to hope. He said, “Tell me what, Doc?”
Baxter was smaller than the other men in the lab who were all professional soldiers standing between six feet one and six feet three inches tall, with lean, hard physiques that had been honed through years of hard training. Baxter, however, was five feet ten inches tall, with a thin, reedy body that had rarely seen exercise. His mind though was as sharp as any blade known to man.
“Well, Captain, you know as well as any on this project that what we’ve witnessed has been unprecedented and, quite frankly, simply should not have happened…” he said, his slate grey eyes aglow with excitement. He ran his hand through his thinning, salt and pepper hair, and then pushed his spectacles up his aquiline nose, a habit of his when he was nervous or excited.
“But it did happen, sir, three times now and it’s the same every time. What I need to know is, when is it going to be my turn and can you prevent it?” Stryder asked.
“But that’s just it … the same every time. All three died in exactly the same way,” said Baxter, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat.
“I understand that Doctor, but what’s your point?”
“You know the basis of what we’re doing here, right? We’ve injected you all with a serum that alters you genetically; to enhance your immune system, to give you the ability to heal faster and to aggressively attack toxins.”
“Yes, sir, I was briefed fully at the induction, we all were.”
“And you agree that no two people’s DNA is exactly the same?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So why would the treatment affect three people in exactly the same manner, at different intervals, when it has been proven that there are no toxins present in the serum?”
“I don’t know, Doctor, you tell me. You’re the expert. No wait … you suspect foul play. How is that possible? I thought the facility was locked down tighter than an airlock in deep space.”
“It is, but considering we are in deep space, that comment is redundant. Having said that, it’s the only explanation that fits the facts,” Baxter replied.
“So what’re we going to do, sir?” Stryder asked, glancing at the General.
“You are going to continue with the programme and leave the security of this facility to me,” Sinclair replied confidently.
“Do you have a list of suspects, sir? I’d like to know so I can keep an eye out. Or am I to be the bait?” Stryder asked.
“We’re looking into it Captain,” Sinclair said, giving nothing away as usual.
Stryder watched as Baxter turned to the General and said, “Tell him.”
“Tell me what, sir? What is it you’re keeping from me?” Stryder asked suspiciously.
Sinclair stared at Baxter for a second, his eyes boring into him with repressed anger. Baxter was a civilian scientist working for Col Sec, but not directly under Sinclair’s command, otherwise his little outburst would not have happened. He looked away from the doctor then turned to face Stryder. There was a battle going on inside his head, Stryder could see that. When he came to a decision he said, “Okay, we suspect that Captain Howard may have something to do with all this.”
“Howard? Isn’t he in charge of security here?”
“Yes, and we have to handle this carefully. If he has ties to the Alliance, then we need to find out. We’ll have to keep him under close surveillance but without alerting him to the fact we’re on to him. If he is our man and he gets wind of our suspicions, there’s no telling what he might do.”
“One thought has occurred to me, sir, why is he going to so much trouble, when this project clearly doesn’t work?” Stryder asked.
“Excuse me?” Baxter replied indignantly, staring at the taller man as if he had insulted him.
“Well, sir, if this serum is supposed to increase our immune system to make us more able to fight off toxins, how is he killing us off one by one? All the testing we’ve undergone so far has been to see if it affected us on a physical level. As far as I can see, our immune system has not been tested yet. Surely if a poison or toxin of some sort has been used, shouldn’t the serum have neutralised it?” Stryder explained with no trace of malice.
Baxter’s expression softened a little. “That again, is something of a mystery. You were right to point out about the testing. We had to ensure that the serum had no debilitating effects on your abilities to perform as a soldier. In fact, in your case Captain, it had quite the opposite effect; it actually increased your strength and stamina. I’m sure you’re aware that your endurance levels have increased by twenty-five per cent.”
Stryder expressed mild surprise and a little bewilderment.
“To be honest, Doc, I thought you were taking it easy on me, well on us, actually. I never realised it was just me; we were never tested together. I just put it down to my training in Recon Delta being harder than what you put us through.” He paused then asked, “But why me?”
Baxter had no answer for him other than a shake of his head and a bemused expression. When he spoke his voice displayed his frustration.
“We’ve encountered so many variables that were, to be honest, unexpected. Each test subject has had a different reaction to the serum, however small. You, it seems Captain, are the only one to exhibit any positive reaction to the serum. It seems the serum did not affect the immune system of the first three. In fact, once the autopsy results are in on Bell, I’m sure it will confirm my earlier findings, that their immune system actually saw the serum as a threat and destroyed it.”
“How is that possible sir, and what does it mean for me? Am I in danger from it?” Stryder asked a little concerned.
“On the contrary, it seems to have increased your metabolism, now all we need to do is to get it to increase your immune system. We need to get it to attach itself onto your DNA to affect your immune system genetically; otherwise it could be perceived as a threat by your body’s defences and be destroyed by the very thing it seeks to improve.”
“And how on earth do you intend to do that?”
“I’ve developed a nanoserum – billions of tiny robots programmed to attach the serum to the specific strand of your DNA. We just inject it into your bloodstream and they get to work. We should see results within a very short time.” Baxter said, smiling and almost rubbing his hands together in glee at the prospect of this new development.
“Billions of tiny robots, Doc? I’m no scientist but how have you programmed so many, in such a short space of time?”
“We’ve been working on nanobots for many years. They’re used extensively throughout the medical profession, as I’m sure you’re aware. Programming them was relatively easy; they work in a series you see. If you programme one, it passes that data along to the rest almost instantaneously.”
“When are you planning on…?” Stryder stopped short when he saw Baxter reach for a syringe.
“Right now Captain, roll up your sleeve please.”
Before he knew it the injection had been administered and he was pulling down his sleeve again.
“How soon Doc, before you know? What can I expect?” he asked, unsure of what would happen next.
“Not sure really, but the nanobots should get to work immediately. As to the question whether you’ll feel anything, I wouldn’t expect so. Remember this is taking place at the genetic level so the changes should go unnoticed until the immune system is threatened.”
“So what you’re saying basically, is that I won’t know if it’s worked until I get injured?” Stryder asked.
“Well, I suppose tha
t’s somewhat true, yes,” Baxter replied seeming a little unsure.
“You don’t sound too confident, Doctor.” Sinclair said.
“We’re not dealing with absolutes here, we’re into uncharted waters. This has never been attempted before and quite frankly, until we get some sort of results, until we can test this, I don’t know what to expect.”
“Forgive me Doc if I don’t feel reassured,” Stryder said.
“If it works though, just think of the potential. Think of the lives we’ll be able to save,” Baxter said, pushing his spectacles back up his nose.
“Going back to my earlier question about Howard, sir, why is he going to so much trouble to kill us all off? Does he know something about this that we don’t, or is the Alliance so afraid that we may be on to something that they’re desperate to stop us at any cost?”
“It’s no secret that they are desperate to prevent us gaining any sort of advantage over them and if they can’t duplicate our research, then the safest thing to do is either discredit or destroy it,” Sinclair said.
“If he’s in charge of security won’t he be pissed off that you brought in Recon Delta to take over?”
“Oh, I do hope so,” Sinclair said with an uncharacteristically smug smirk.
“I get it, you want to rattle his cage and force him to make a mistake.”
“Of course,” Sinclair said.
“So, not only am I a guinea pig, but I’m bait now as well,” Stryder said.
Baxter looked from him over to Sinclair, then down to the floor, unable to maintain eye contact with him. The General, though, had no trouble at all looking at him straight in the eyes.
“Don’t feel guilty, Doc. I’m first and always a soldier, this comes with the territory,” Stryder said never taking his eyes off Sinclair.
“You got that right, Captain; this is what you signed up for,” Sinclair said coldly.
“Yea! The life in Recon Delta, it’s not just a job, it’s an adventure,” Stryder replied.
2
Captain James Howard was in his office when the news of Bell’s death filtered through to him. Instead of feeling panic or concern over a further death he and his men had been unable to prevent, he felt pleasure.
He had taken another risk in eliminating Bell – the third risk – and he would take one more to complete his mission to destroy this project. He could not allow the Confederation to gain such an advantage over the Alliance. For that reason, whatever risks he took, would be worth it.
This posting had been a recent promotion for Howard. He had worked hard to get there, starting out as a lowly Constable and gradually, through effort and initiative, making his way up through the ranks until he reached Captain. This posting was the most prestigious of his career, in charge of security on Research Station Five, the largest research facility that the Colonial Confederation had. Situated out in deep space, fifty-seven light years from Earth, it was where all the major testing of new weapons and equipment was undertaken, along with any new research and development such as this project.
The real Captain Howard would be so proud, but this Howard was in fact Captain Pavel Tchercovic of the Elysium Alliance’s equivalent of Recon Delta, an elite unit known as the Black Knights.
When the Alliance learnt of this project through a mole planted within Col Sec a full year before testing began, they started researching the personnel of Research Station Five. It was somewhere they had never been able to infiltrate, until now.
The posting of Captain James Howard six months prior to the start of the project, came as a godsend. No one on the station had ever met him, and his official file was the only record they had of the man. It was a simple matter for the mole to gain access to the official records database and exchange Howard’s photograph for one of Tchercovic so that when he arrived to start his tour of duty he was, to all intents and purposes, Howard.
He had done his research before arriving at the station so he knew as much about the project, those in charge and those participating, as the mole had been able to learn. Once there, and when the testing began, he surreptitiously entered the main computer to check on the progress. He became aware early on of the doubts Baxter had, and of the dangers inherent in the project. However, instead of sabotaging the serum he decided the best tactic would be to play on the dangers. If the test subjects all died, they were more likely to abandon the project.
If that were to happen, and with the death of Bell he was hoping that would be more likely now, he planned to steal the research data and transmit it to the Alliance via a secure burst sub-space signal, where they could duplicate the programme with better results and thus gain the advantage Col Sec was hoping for.
When he was informed of the arrival of the detail from Recon Delta to supplement his security, he wasn’t sure how to act. His first reaction was a mixture of pleasure and frustration. Pleasure at the prospect of pitting himself against an adversary supposed to be his opposite and equal, yet frustration at the knowledge that they intended to continue with the project and not abandon it as he had hoped.
More to the point, though how would the real Howard have reacted? He would have been incensed, to be sure, that his authority had been superseded by Recon Delta. He would probably have lodged an official complaint to General Sinclair personally.
Deciding that was the best action to take to ensure his cover remained in place, he left his office and made his way to the main lab where he knew Sinclair would be.
He arrived just after their conversation about him had ended.
“General Sinclair we need to talk, sir, in private,” Tchercovic said as he burst into the room, anger etched across his face.
“Ah, Captain Howard. Here to discuss the new security arrangements I’ve implemented to assist you and your men, no doubt,” Sinclair said, to take the sting out of Tchercovic’s assault.
“That’s not what I’ve been told, sir. As I understand it, Recon Delta has taken control of the security of your project. My men and I have been locked out.” Tchercovic said, making a show of barely contained anger.
“That’s right; have you a problem with that Captain?” Sinclair asked.
“If you had a problem with how I run the security of this station, I would have preferred you come to me with it, rather than go over my head.”
“You may be in charge of the security of this station Captain, but I am in command of this station and everyone on board. I don’t need to refer to you on any of my decisions. You are under my command here, Captain; don’t ever forget that. Dismissed,” Sinclair said with a tone of finality in his voice.
Tchercovic was barely able to control his anger at the rebuff; real anger this time, not feigned. He wanted to tear the General’s head off but to remain in character, simply said, “Aye sir,” then turned and left.
Outside the lab Tchercovic had to pull himself back under control. That was close; he had never come so close to losing it like that before. He prided himself on being the consummate professional. Always under control, but just then when confronted by Sinclair, he felt that control slipping. Just a fraction but it had happened. He only hoped that no one had noticed.
Getting to the last test subject, Stryder, would be harder now that Recon Delta had been brought in, but that would not prove too much of a problem. Everyone thought that Recon Delta was the elite, the best of the best, but he knew different. The Black Knights were superior in every way imaginable, and he would prove it.
* * * * *
Inside the lab, Stryder looked at Sinclair and said, “That man was rattled.”
Smiling, Sinclair said, “That was the point.”
3
Over the next few hours, Tchercovic watched through the surveillance monitors as Stryder was tested at the lab before returning to his quarters.
At no time during this period was he left alone. There were at least two Marines with him, or close by, at all times. Getting to him through this barrier was not going to be as easy as he first thoug
ht.
While he was studying the monitors, another plan began to formulate in the back of his mind.
As he watched Stryder settle down for the night he realised what he must do. He must steal the research data and destroy the station. All the witnesses, test subjects and the much-vaunted Col Sec, with their esteemed Recon Delta, would be destroyed. They would be unable to testify as to who was responsible, or have the ability to rebuild.
Being the head of station security afforded him certain privileges, such as having all the station’s security protocols.
Entering the station’s main computer he logged into Engineering where he programmed the core reactor to go critical in one hour.
That should be plenty of time to sabotage the life pods, download the research data and get the hell off the station, he thought.
Once that was done he hacked into the main lab’s internal computer and entered the master decrypt code that unlocked all the files. All security chiefs on Outpost Research Stations are issued with the code key. Each key is specific to one station and is only to be used during major emergencies to retrieve important data so that it cannot be destroyed, or stolen.
Not bothering to sift through all the files for the pertinent data, and so that he didn’t leave anything behind, he downloaded them all onto a data card.
All that remained was to sabotage the escape pods and all the docking bays so that no one could leave, except him, of course. The best way to do that was to restrict access to the docking bays effectively locking them off. As for the life pods, he programmed them all to vent atmosphere thirty seconds after release from the station.
