by David Brush
“Hardy har har. Maybe you enjoy the feeling of your skin wrapping around your skeleton, but I like some meat on my bones.”
“Some meat? Matt, you got the whole deli there,” she said, as he finally managed to pull the vest on correctly. Before he could fire off his next barrage, James walked in. Sensing his friend’s unease with the prospect of his first raid, Matt took him around to gear up, hoping it would take his mind off of everything.
“You’re going to be OK, buddy,” he said, leading James towards the ammo depot.
“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s Haley. I don’t like the idea of running her into a warzone. We’ve gotten very little combat training from you people, Matt. We’ve only been here for a few weeks. It’s kind of crazy to bring us, don’t you think? Haley and I have spent more time here in the lab than on the gun range.”
“Well first off, Haley will be just fine, you’re the one who can’t shoot for shit, and second, it doesn’t matter. It’s not about your combat abilities anyway, James. It’s about proving your loyalty. We’re bringing you two lovebirds along to help dispose of the chemicals. We’ll do any fighting if it’s necessary. Last time we hit a distribution center there were only a few guys on duty and they surrendered without a fight.”
James frowned. “Did you execute them too?”
Matt sighed, setting down the ammo pack that he had been examining. “Did you think going to war would be a fun little vacation? It’s hard to hear it and even harder to say it, buddy, but in situations like this, the only way you make it home every night is by being the cruelest bastard on the field at that given time. People are going to die. Your only concern should be whether or not it’s you.”
“Let me ask you something, Matt. Let’s say we somehow kill Nightrick and overthrow his regime. What then? There are at least ten different factions vying for control over the same country. Does the war just go on without him? Do we just fight forever until there’s nothing left to govern?”
“Well, we’d form a unity government if we could ever take the capital. Each faction would share power as we rebuilt the country. Where are you going with this, James? What’s your point?”
“My point is that while the CLF might be willing to share some power, maybe, I highly doubt that the Crusaders would. And come to think of it, there’s no way that the Raynon Reborn would join your unity government either.”
A small frown took root on Matt’s face, but as quickly as it had come on, it passed. “Look, I know that last night was hard for you guys. You’re new to all of this and it takes time to adjust. After seeing something like that you just sit there all night, mind racing, wondering what the point of any of this is. Next time you ask yourself that question, look over at Haley. That should be all the answer you need.”
James nodded. “Maybe you’re right. So you really don’t think there will be any fighting tonight?”
Matt smiled. “We’ll all be fine. These places aren’t that well guarded, trust me.”
Dazed, James sat up on his hands and knees. While his vision was badly blurred, he could still make out shapes well enough. In the back of his mind, he heard his friend’s voice rattling around, “these places aren’t that well guarded, trust me…trust me….trust…” The second flashbang thrown into the room exploded to the right of him, knocking him over. He smiled through the blinding numbness, lost in his head, as his limp body was dragged behind an overturned desk.
“WAKE UP!” Matt screamed slapping him. “WAKE UP, GODDAMMIT!”
James heard him like he was two miles underwater. Summoning all of his willpower, he succeeded in pulling his vision back into focus. He looked around the chemical storage bay that the group had managed to fight its way into. Large totes full of yellow and white liquids were stacked all over the place, with an endless sea of barrels surrounding them. No windows adorned the walls, and only one large doorway served to connect the bay to the rest of the facility. Overhead, he saw Haley staring down at him with a horrified look on her face. Matt, meanwhile, continued to lay suppressing fire over the desk.
“Well I might have miscalculated their numbers a bit,” he offered loudly over the blaring sound of gunfire.
Megan grunted. “No kidding.”
She tapped the warehouse’s floor plans back open on the datacuff that wound around her wrist. The translucent bracer glowed a soft yellow as she slid her finger across the display. After another careful scan of the room failed to turn up any new exits, she tapped the plans shut again.
“Well, we’re trapped,” she said, sounding thoroughly pissed. “Nicely done, Matt. Another brilliant plan! Maybe next week we can jump out of a goddamn airplane without parachutes?”
“Oh shut up, this isn’t my fault,” he said, fumbling with another clip. “I’m not clairvoyant; reconnaissance is your specialty I thought.”
“I’ve been monitoring their communications for weeks. There’s been absolutely zero indication that they were beefing up security.”
Another flashbang rolled next to the desk. Matt slapped it away and fired another salvo over the splinter tarp that had formerly been their cover.
“Well…we’re going to die,” he said with just a tinge of bitter sarcasm. “I’ve got about half a clip left and there’re at least thirty of them out there salivating to get in here.”
Megan frowned. “Well nice aim, you ape. Have you even hit anyone?”
“Hey, I have an idea,” said James, crawling behind one of the black barrels that they had come to destroy. Keeping himself as shielded as he could, he retrieved a small vial from inside his jacket pocket. Resting within the confines of the glass was a translucent liquid that looked quite similar to water, with only the slight difference in its shimmer serving to differentiate it. He made eye contact with Haley, who gave him a reassuring nod. The young man carefully opened the barrel and poured a bit of the vial’s contents in, sealing it as rapidly as he could. With Haley’s assistance, he pushed the cylinder onto its side and rolled it out towards the doorway, quickly ducking behind an adjacent container as the first one slowly approached the entry.
“Shoot the barrel,” he yelled from behind the second.
Matt leaned out and fired a burst into it, filling the doorway with gas. The emergency filtration fans activated in the ceiling, rapidly inhaling the fumes. A second barrel rolled forward and Matt fired again, sending another humungous organic plume into the air. It dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, but as the cloud vanished, it gave way to a mass of bodies, some still writhing on the ground and gasping for air.
Megan stuck her head up over the desk, looking towards the doorway. “Well, it’s a goddamn miracle he hit it.”
“Oh shut the hell up, Megan. These masks are practically impossible to see out of. I’d like to see how good your aim is when you’re under heavy fire like that.”
“Matt, if I went into a coma on top of my gun, I’d still fire it more accurately than you.”
Matt, doing his best to ignore her, made his way over to the doorway to inspect the pile of corpses that they had amassed. The struggle for air had ended by then at least, leaving a scattered load of colorless bodies strewn across the floor. The chalky white skin was so unnatural that he found himself wondering, for just a second, whether those figures before him had ever actually been real human beings. He let his eyes trace the lines of blood running down from the bulging eyes, making the men look as though they had been crying in their final moments. “Holy shit… what was that?”
“Something I’ve been working on,” replied James, trying hard to avoid looking at the evidence of how well his compound had worked.
“It’s a hypervolatilizer,” said Haley, turning away from the twisted bodies in disgust. “It causes organic liquids to enter the gaseous state at an unprecedented rate.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Matt responded with an almost morbid tone of respect. “See, James, it’s a good thing we brought you two along. Megan here must be disappointed that anoth
er one of her attempts to get me killed has gone south.”
“Matt, I don’t need to attempt to get you killed, you’re constantly trying to do it yourself.”
“Blah, blah, blah, blah,” he replied, giving her the finger. “Let’s get this done with and get the hell out of here before more of these bastards show up.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The gruff-looking commander circled the thin metal table of the interrogation room, taking a deep puff from the thick cigar he held in between his forefinger and this thumb. His green fatigues and black combat boots, along with the thin stubble projecting out of his otherwise bald head, gave him a rather prickly look. The deep lines etched into his face shifted as he frowned.
“I’m going to ask you one last time what that liquid was and where you got it, then I’m going have to do some things that we’re both going to find unpleasant.”
“I already told you, it’s a hypervolatilizer, and I synthesized it myself. Now what have you done with Haley?” replied James, looking around the cramped cellar. Mildew stains marked the craggy walls, and the only source of light streaming into the room was from a grate that rested up near the ceiling.
“We need to know where you got that compound from, because right now, you’re looking an awful lot like a security risk to this organization. If someone sent you, all you have to do is tell me who it is and this will all be over.”
“I synthesized the compound myself and nobody sent me, you assholes abducted me.”
“Look, kid, I don’t want to do this but you’re really not giving me a lot of options here,” said Commander Fluron, setting a ball-peen hammer down on the metal table in front of him.
James scowled. “I’ll prove it, but there’s not a whole hell of a lot I can do chained up here. If you want to see whether or not I’m telling the truth, you have to give me access to a lab. Sitting here and threatening me with a hammer isn’t going to get you shit.”
The commander regarded his prisoner for a moment. “You want access to a lab? Fine. But if you can’t produce that compound like you say you can, I won’t be using the hammer on you. I’ll be using it on your little girlfriend.”
“I swear to you that if you touch one hair on her head, I’ll take that hammer and gouge your eyes out with it.”
“Big talk for an unarmed kid,” said the commander, taking another puff from his cigar as he moved towards the door. He called out into the hallway, gesturing towards the table. Two masked rebels entered the room, scooped up James, and carried him out into the corridor. As they carted him along towards one of the two labs located at Fort Condat, he scanned every passerby for a friendly face. Most of the other rebels just turned away and avoided eye contact as his procession marched by.
“Cowards,” he said to no one in particular.
When the group finally reached the lab, they released him.
“Make it,” said Fluron. “And you two, go grab the girl. I want to make sure that our recruit here is adequately motivated.”
James looked around the small, earthen lab. One workbench sat in the middle of the room, and a few shelves lined the walls, holding various chemicals with little organization.
“You couldn’t take me to the nice lab?” he said, picking up one of the jars of powder and examining the label.
“The nice lab is for people we trust. You get the pit.”
James set the jar back down. “I guess I’ll make do. And for the love of God, put that cigar out before you kill us all. This is a lab, not a fucking bowling alley.”
The commander gave him a nasty look as he tossed his cigar onto the floor and crushed it with his black boot. “There you go, safety lad. Now get to work.”
James grabbed the nearest volumetric flask, rinsing it with acetone in the nearby solvent sink. He pulled the various jars and containers that he needed off of the shelves, carefully measuring each reagent with the old scale before adding it into the flask. Slowly, he mixed his compound back into existence, lost in his head while he worked. When at last he looked up again, he saw Haley standing in the doorway, flanked by the two brutes that had dragged him into the lab.
“You’re missing something I need,” said James. “I can’t create the hypervolatilizer without the Karrion catalyst.”
“Well I hope for her sake that that isn’t true,” responded the commander.
“James,” said Haley, widening her eyes a touch. “Stop toying with them and just add the final reagent. You know as well as I do that the Corrak catalyst can be substituted for the Karrion.”
The young chemist hesitated for a moment. “But...”
“It works, doesn’t it?”
He nodded. “Fine.”
He pulled the small vial of catalyst off of the top shelf and added a precise amount into the solution. After shaking the glassware for a moment, he sucked a few drops of the product up into a syringe and then corked the flask. He leaned over and grabbed the last jar that he’d set on the bench, pouring a clear liquid into one of the nearby beakers.
“Watch,” said the young man, pushing two drops back out of the syringe and into the isopropanol that he’d poured for the display. As the drops hit the surface, he quickly covered and shook the beaker, then released it to the open air. Only vapor rose up before the assembled group, leaving no trace of any solvent behind.
“Like I told you,” said James. “Now can we please go?”
The commander smiled, walking up to the workbench and picking up the corked flask. “Yes, I’m sorry I ever doubted you. You’re both free to leave just as soon as you write down the instructions to make this little wonder.”
Nightrick sat in his lab at the Atria Plant musing over the data laid out in front of him. He watched the footage of the raid again and then reviewed the readout from the filters. On the screen, the 3-D structure of the hypervolatilizer spun freely in open space. The doctor touched the display and rotated the structure to get a better look at the opposite side. “Turing, pull up the results from the last ten formulation trials. I think maybe where we’re running into our problem is in solvent selection.”
“Right away, Doctor,” responded the entity.
“Perhaps we need to try something a bit more polar. Use Acetonitrile, but keep everything else constant. Let me know the second that the products are finished.”
“As you wish.”
The AI dissolved back into its hub, causing its green glow to fade. Nightrick heard the machinery in his lab grind back to life as the entity began running the next battery of experiments. He peered through the glass into one of the adjoining labs at Dr. Truman and his team, who were also hard at work trying to solve the enigma. On the hub in the lab, the Atria’s resident AI, Edison, was speaking to some of the other chemists about extending the temperature range of their trials by another 2oC. There was something thoroughly off-putting about the blood-red glow that emanated from the AI’s visage. The doctor was half tempted to shut Edison down and have him reformatted by someone more sane and trustworthy, but the pragmatist in him wouldn’t allow for it. Doing so would cost a fortune and greatly reduce the Atria’s output during the repairs.
The beady, milky brown eyes of Dr. Truman scanned over one of the flasks that he was working with before handing it to his research assistant. Truman had about twenty years on his employer and was the very definition of physically average, except for his tendency to sweat almost incessantly. Cold, hot, it didn’t matter; the man was always soaking through his shirts and dabbing away beads of perspiration while he worked. Every lab coat he owned was stained in his own signature pattern from all of the bodily fluid that leaked out of him daily. His body looked like soft dough, but he stood upright with a pride that made his employer feel even more disgust when looking in on him.
Nightrick made eye contact with him, signaling for the sweaty man to come into his office. Truman walked in with the same pompous strut that made his boss want to chop off his legs every time he saw the arrogant display that his employee made of
something as simple as walking.
“I can’t figure it out!” he stared. “We’ve been at it for weeks and I feel like we’re not much closer than we were when we started. Whoever made that volatilizer is quite clever. Perhaps if we could just use Edison instead of forcing our two AIs to share the network, we’d have a greater chance of success.”
“I trust Edison as much as I trust you, Truman, which is not at all. I didn’t bring Turing along for the fun of it. You’re lucky I even allow that monstrosity of yours to continue operating the Atria Plant.”
“With all due respect, sir, if you want me to run this plant effectively, you have to trust my judgement.”
“Do you know why you run this facility? Because you’re the best in your field. That’s it. If I had my way about it, I’d have had you executed years ago for using my procedure as some sick tool to poison people. You’re a serial killer and you’ve done nothing to earn my mercy or my trust.”
“Was a serial killer, Dr. Nightrick. If you recall, you cured me of my baser instincts before reassigning me here.”
Nightrick nodded. “So I hope. You’ve made sure that my lab is equipped for the procedures?”
“Yes, sir. The equipment is just about ready for use. All you’ll have to do is the routine neural mapping of the patient beforehand. Why, may I ask, do you need to be performing Inductions and other reprogrammings at this facility?”
“That isn’t your concern, Truman,” said Nightrick, frowning. “You’ve finished reinforcing the structure, I hope? If this plant falls, Dr. Truman, I will personally be the one to end your life.”
“Of course. Not even Special Branch could overrun this location now. It’s absolutely invulnerable. And I assure you, by the time I leave the Valker Plant, it will be as unbreakable as the Atria.”
“It had better be. You’re dismissed,” said Nightrick, waving away the soaking blob standing before him. With that, Dr. Truman marched out of the office. He made a grand show of returning to his laboratory, making sure that everyone in the room was aware of his return from handling important business with the boss by obnoxiously parading back to his station. Nightrick shook his head as he retrieved a pen sitting nearby on his desk. The doctor began scribbling down his umpteenth theory for the reaction mechanism when his phone went off. He considered silencing it for the fourth time, but a nagging sense of responsibility swayed him in the other direction. “General Bismuth, I’ve reviewed the footage of the raid again. I’ve seen that boy with the compound before, I’m sure of it. He was there that night in Dunton. Whoever he is, he’s absolutely brilliant… and dangerous.”
