Shifting Dimensions: A Military Science Fiction Anthology

by Justin Sloan

  Tang laughed. "I see he's got you drinking the Kool-Aid. The once great Commander Hastings has fallen for One Eye Willy."

  Collins was quick to jump. He couldn't hold back his rage any longer. Tang took up a quick stance, raising his guard as Collins lashed out with a blow against the hard cornered metal of the nano suit arm. Ouch! His knuckles immediately went limp burning with pain. Tang grabbed Collins arm again, twisting it back while at the same time gripping the back of Nate's neck.

  “Looks like One Eye still can’t hold his load,” Tang said.

  Collins was bent over, the pain was excruciating. Like a thousand tiny knives crawling up his elbow to his shoulder. He held a stare on Sanchez as his fellow marine pulled on up his nano-mech suit and zipped it shut..

  "Look at your One Eye now!” Tang yelled to them, unfazed by the fact he might be evenly matched in a moment.

  Just behind his friends, Collins's pale eye saw the ever so slightly wisps of a ghost emanate from the wall. Will they help? He could see the essence of his own face was present now—it was his ghost. The mirrored phantom eyes were stern, full of strength and absent of any scar. For a moment, he felt content knowing he was stronger somewhere else. Collins vision began to blur.

  AS SANCHEZ WORKED to pull on the heavy mech suit, Hastings took cover behind him waiting for the right moment to refuel his low battery from her own. Both of them were low on juice so she would have to hurry. Meanwhile Tang stood watching them approach, nodding his head crazily as they prepared themselves for battle.

  "You think you can take me out, Sanchez?" Tang yelled.

  “Take you out? Don’t kid yourself, Tang. You’re not my type,” Sanchez said.

  Hastings closely watched the meter, quickly swapping the last battery out. A recharge sounded and Sanchez's suit boosted with energy. Despite the win, an eerie sound penetrated Hastings’ senses. She heard a mangled snap followed by a thud, like meat hitting a cold butcher’s floor. Hastings swung her head around to see Collins slumped on the ground. His arm was now separated grotesquely in two pieces, yet still being held together by the stretched skin like a purple elastic band. Tang pounded Collin’s head like a dead horse.

  "No!" Hastings cried out.

  Sanchez came down on Tang with a hard blow. The crunching of the metal suits ground like nails on a chalkboard. Hastings pulled Collins through Sanchez's legs and away from the battle. His face was battered and bruised from the pummeling. His strength holding onto what was left of his life.

  "Collins, I'm so sorry," Hastings cried.

  Collins managed to open his eyes and smile, revealing the remote detonator in his hand. Hastings smiled through her tears and hugged him.

  "Take me to the scanner,” Collins whispered.

  "What?" Hastings tried to process the information over the loud clanging of Sanchez fighting Tang.

  "If you scan me, you can save my conscience. You remember the archive recordings?" Collins continued.

  Hastings looked at one of the naturalization doors that was a mere ten feet away and back at Sanchez now restraining Tang. She remembered the picture she had seen in the barracks—the possible future they could have together. A comfort blanketed her, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since the start of the Syndicate War.

  Hastings gathered her strength and dragged the limp sergeant to the room that held the scanner.

  Naturalization

  SMASH!

  The wall was slammed with a brute force and the thick hull crumpled like a tin can. Hastings looked back at Collins, his face turning purplish-blue the longer she waited. She could save Collins right now. Why the hesitation? He could have a new body just like the poor souls on this ship they were trying to save.

  Another violent shake and the horseshoe shaped scanner Collins lay on rocked, sliding off its tracks on the floor.

  “Save me," Collins said with the last of his energy.

  Hastings walked over to the head of the unfamiliar but oversimplified interface. A series of diagnostic readings adjacent to a blue button flashed in intervals. Hastings felt like she was at a juncture —a defining moment in her life, and also in that of Collins. She pressed down on the button. A flash of light pulsed.

  CRASH!

  The wall burst open and shards of projected metal flew into the air. Hastings hit the ground, catching a piece in her leg and trying not to roll on it. She looked up at Collins's body. A large piece of shrapnel now penetrated his side. Blood seeped onto the cold floor and she winced—hoping the machine had finished the job.

  She looked back at the opening, as the dust settled. She saw Sanchez in the distance now lying on the floor with a large section of his suit gouged out and his chest open. He was gone. A larger figure stepped into frame and filled the torn opening. It was Tang. His yellow nano-mech suit, stained to the elbows like a meat butcher.

  "You fucking bastard!" Hastings yelled, holding her leg.

  Tang walked slowly toward her. "I'm tired of taking orders from you—from all of you!"

  His shadow towered over her as she stared into his ruthless eyes. Tang lifted his heavy mech-boot just over Hastings head. "You can live with the Yao Guai now."

  BOOM!

  Tang tumbled over Hastings, smashing into the hull wall. Hastings was overwhelmed by the sound. Her ears rang and she looked up to see a figure in black. It took a split second to recognize the familiar face as she had not seen it that way for months. It was Collins, perfect in all forms, holding Sanchez's stunner. He cocked the boom-stick again just as Hastings heard Tang's servos pump and pop into action.

  Tang looked at Collins's old body slumped over on the scanner, lifeless. Rage filled his eyes as he pieced the puzzle together.

  "It's over, Tang," Collins said, interrupting his thoughts.

  "I don't believe it."

  “There's a lot of things you don't know." Collins retorted.

  Collins aimed the stunner at Tang's chest and pulled the trigger. A bolt of energy slammed into Tang, barreling him into the wall again. His head slammed into the hull and Tang was knocked out cold.

  Collins dropped the stunner, and rushed to help with Hastings wound. She watched him as he ministered to her wound. She noticed his perfect hands—his skin, eyes and complexion—all flawless.

  Here Again

  COLLINS WAS STRONGER NOW. His body no longer hurt, newly imprinted and perhaps immortal. He contemplated the nature of his being. What would become of him when the ship collided with the double binary star? He looked around the ship and saw no disturbances, no ghosts, no phantoms. Could he see them anymore? Only time would tell, he thought.

  "How did you make it?” Hastings asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  "The process was automatic. My body was nano-printed. My consciousness is now kept safe on this ship," Collins answered.

  Collins helped Hastings to her feet as she wrapped one arm around him, limping her way out of the naturalizing room. Collins eyed his friend, Sanchez, slumped lifelessly against the wall. He had sacrificed himself for them—something he would never forget.

  "What are we going to do now?" Hastings asked.

  Collins snickered, “You could admit your undying love for me?”

  Hastings cringed with pain. "How about a medic kit first."

  Collins held Hastings as he helped her limp past door after door within the naturalizing chamber. Despite the victory of stopping a madman from blowing up the ship, Collins felt Hastings withdrawal from the here and now.

  "Remember when you played the light cone in the database?" Hastings asked.

  "Yeah."

  "When you pulled the pinch to the future side we saw the ship enter the star," Hastings continued.

  "And?"

  "We weren't on the ship. Which means we find a way off this thing.”

  Silence padded Collins's thoughts of what do now with his life. Could he return to a normal life? Would it be possible to have a relationship?

  Collins felt Hastings abruptly tug on his arm a
s they walked.

  "Wait," she said, her eye were peering over into one of the windows of the chamber.

  Collins firm hold loosened and he let her go. She limped over and opened the door. Inside, another standard naturalization chamber was filled with a myriad of equipment and a scanner just like the one Collins had used.

  As he followed, he saw Hastings focus hard on a strange detail across the room. Her face turned ghost-white and her eyes widened. As he caught up with her he suddenly saw what it was that had shocked her so.

  He counted five Marines in matching nano-mech suits. Their flesh had rotted away, leaving behind chalky bones and mechanical exoskeletons. Each had a rusting name tag on their chest, eroding away, that stuck out significantly like a sore thumb.

  Collins read each of the names ' Piña, Sanchez, Tang, Collins and Hastings.'

  Hastings’s face drained of all color as he looked back at Collins.

  Collins calculated the situation, thinking back to what had transpired. It all made sense now—transferring consciousness—the five rogue entities.

  "We’ve all been here before," Collins said.

  GENTRY RACE

  GENTRY RACE HAS WORKED as a VFX artist at such studios as DreamWorks, Laika and Evil Eye Pictures. He continues to follow his passion, exploring the creative aspects of life by authoring science fiction stories that reside in his head.

  AUTHOR NOTE

  WOW. What a ride. I had so much fun articulating this story whom some have described as a Space Marine Paranormal Thriller. The inspiration behind RETINA was from my heavy reading doses of Michael Crichton when I was younger and researching the Space Marine genre Justin, Kyle and George had already defined with the earlier books from the series.

  I AM TRULY HONORED to have contributed to this and would like to thank you all for supporting this expansion of the Seppukarian Universe as we have some great surprises in store for you. Furthermore, please feel free to check out my other works such as The Cyberratum Series.

  INTERTWINED

  BY KYLE NOE

  Everything was hazy. Bentley’s body felt off, like it wasn’t his own. And he couldn’t stop himself from hurling. He spat and tried to reach up to wipe his mouth, but his wrists came up against shackles. He was a prisoner. A prisoner of whom, he didn’t know. But it meant the trip through time hadn’t gone as expected.

  When his vision began to return, he scanned the room looking for a clue. Where was he, and who had taken him captive? The first thing he noticed was that the walls weren’t made of any material he’d ever seen before. They looked transparent, but weren’t. Opaque, but solid. The walls almost seemed to be alive. The last thing he took in was a tattoo on his wrist. Burned in deep like a cattle marking was the number fifty-seven.

  As if reading his mind, a calm and confident female voice answered his thoughts. “Everything is fine, Bentley,” the voice said. “You’re where you’re supposed to be.”

  At first, Bentley couldn’t tell if the voice was inside his head or echoing off the walls, coming from some ethereal place. “From inside your mind,” the voice said. “My name is Indred. To answer your next question, it’s derived from the English word kindred. Over the centuries, the ‘K’ began to slur until it was silent. When they named me, it was with the intent of imbuing the idea of being kindred. I believe, although I can never be truly certain of humankind’s intentions, the inspiration was that I’m designed to be in rapport with my human counterpart.”

  “So you’re not human?” Bentley asked.

  “No. Not technically. Although my mind was mapped from the human brain. So, perhaps in a way, I’m a little bit human.”

  This was more than Bentley had bargained for. All he wanted was a shot at going back in time to stop alien invaders before they’d conquered the Earth. Turn the tide in the past, they said. We’ll win the war this way, they said. And here he was in what seemed like the future without a clue what he was about to face.

  “If you can read my thoughts, what’s my next question?” Bentley asked.

  A moment of silence filled the strange room, made of unknown material. Indred once again broke the quiet. “That was rhetorical.”

  “Ah,” Bentley said, and laughed. “So you’re programmed with a sense of humor like me.”

  “Mine is better than yours, but yes.”

  “Cool. Real cool. Happy for you,” Bentley said. “But what I really want to know right now is what’s the situation on the ground. Where am I? What year is it? Who’s the enemy? Are you the enemy? And oh… Why the hell am I chained up?”

  “It would be unwise to answer your questions directly before we’re in rapport,” Indred said. “It’s better if we begin your trial.”

  “My what? No. I don’t need to be tried. I haven’t done anything.”

  “Your DNA says otherwise. I’ve looked into your past. According to the records, you didn’t join the Marines out of pride or a sense of duty, but because you’d attempted to steal a processor from a secure facility. You had the option of prison or enlistment.”

  “But I’ve served my time. And I kept serving after my obligation and debt was paid.”

  “True, but I wasn’t referring to a courtroom or court martial trial. I meant to convey that you must face a kind of challenge in order to achieve rapport with me.”

  “I thought that was your directive,” Bentley said, as he tugged at his shackles. “Aren’t you supposed to get into rapport with me?”

  “Yes. But it requires our minds to sync.”

  “Not interested. I mean, you’re cool and all. Really cool actually. But you’re not exactly my type. I’m more into sultry women with a high IQ who know what they want. You, on the other hand, are made of some unknown material, have a computer’s IQ, and, well, you’re missing the requisite matching body parts.”

  “Again, you mistake my meaning. This is because we are not in sync. If we were in sync, you would understand.”

  “Geezus,” Bentley said. “You’re like a broken record. Just start the trial already. Not like I have a choice.”

  “You do.”

  Bentley blinked. His eyes fluttered. He’d misread the situation. Something was off. But he didn’t even have a starting point as to what. He needed more info to even begin to understand.

  “Let’s try this again,” Bentley said. “What am I going to say next now?”

  “That I talk too much,” Indred said.

  As the last word fell on Bentley’s ear, his shackles loosened and released. He was free, but at what cost?

  “Thanks,” he said, sounding as if he was asking a question.

  “We’re making progress,” Indred said. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be…”

  But Indred cut him off. “That’s a bit cliché,” she said. “Care to try again?”

  “Really? I’m getting trashed talked by a computer.”

  “I’m not a computer.”

  “But you said…”

  “I know what I said, but we are not in sync. Therefore, you misinterpreted. Care to try again?”

  “Sure. Why not?” he said. “No. I’m not even slightly ready. I’d like to know what I’m getting into and go from there.”

  “Your uncertainty allows me to see how your mind processes from the beginning of a challenge. The process is highly refined. And we shouldn’t skip steps.”

  “Fine,” Bentley said. “Let the fun begin.”

  “Brace yourself,” Indred said, right as the ship was enveloped in turbulence. The unexpected rocking knocked Bentley to the ground. That was when he realized he was no longer wearing armor. And he was unarmed. He was not only on his own, but without his familiar trappings. He began to feel deep dread. He was in the complete unknown.

  ONCE HE WAS able to steady himself, Bentley pushed off the ground and felt his way along the bulkhead, careful to maintain a grip in case of more turbulence. What he needed was to get his bearings and a clear picture of what he was up against. Half o
f him believed the things Indred had said. The other half doubted every word. This whole charade was potentially a trick. An enhanced interrogation tactic where he might be led into giving up vital intel or reveal a weak spot unintentionally through a simulated ploy in which he had to escape. All he had to go on was paranoia.

  As he pushed forward to the front of the room, his hands slipped off the wall and into open air unexpectedly. Where there should have been more wall, there was nothing. He stepped back and looked from a lower angle. What he saw was an open doorway disguised by an optical illusion. The way the frame was designed concealed the edges and blended into the background. The corridor beyond the opening looked like a hatch. This whole time, he hadn’t really been a prisoner at all.

  Still careful and cautious, Bentley slipped into the corridor and peaked around the corner. Empty. He picked up his pace and marched forward, his fists at the ready.

  Beneath him, the ship gave off a low humming sound, and from all around, there was a consistent whirring. The place smelt as neutral as anything could. No scent of sweat from a nearby soldier. Not even the distinct odor of cleaning chemicals. He still knew nothing of consequence.

  At the end of the corridor, he came upon another optical illusion doorway. This one was a little different. Instead of a camouflaged opening, the entrance was at a slant and narrow, and he had to pass through sideways to be able to fit.

  On the other side, he’d finally found a room that wasn’t devoid of clues as to his surroundings. He needed to know where he was, and even more important, when he was. And this room at least looked like something more than a blank slate.

  One minute, he’d been thrust into a time portal with coordinates to go back in time and stop the alien threat before the invasion. The next, he was in a blank slate room. Then in a corridor with slightly more detail, and now inside a cubbyhole room on the ship that felt fuller and more like something he was familiar with.

  There were control panels along one wall. Albeit, the controls were all touchscreen, and the markings were unfamiliar. Didn’t even look like language at all. But it was a start. Along one of the other walls was what appeared to be a Viewer. Possibly, its purpose was to see outside the ship or receive transmissions. Either way, figuring out the situation was the most important thing right now.