Edge Of The Future

by Andria Stone

Mark commed Kamryn. “Alert Ohashi that we’re after it. Find out what we’re supposed to do with it when we catch it. Tell her it could have a built-in tracking device, or a self-destruct protocol. No doubt we’ve got enough firepower to blow it up, but that’s not going to get us any closer to finding Beth Coulter.”

  Axel ran passed him, along with Cliff and Stan, as they followed their dogs deeper into the forest. The pack began to zigzag, circle and loop. In time, all the dogs became quiet. A spotlight from the shuttle shone down through the trees to an area near a creek. Mark caught sight of Cliff’s father, followed him into a tiny clearing, where several trees had been cut down. Dogs gathered, some sat quietly, others growled. Mr. Morgensen pointed to a spot almost hidden in the shadows. Mark could barely make out a human form on the ground, curled up in a fetal position.

  Mark commed everyone. “I see it. Kamryn? Orders?”

  “Disable it.”

  Their four armored soldiers moved out of the tree line into the spotlight. Two with pulse rifles, the others holding weapons Mark had never seen before. In slow motion, they advanced to within about six feet of the form—before it uncurled itself—leaping into the air. The ring of armor jumped backward. The cyborg came down almost on top the nearest soldier. The pair with unknown weapons shot what looked like foam at the cyborg, totally immobilizing it.

  “Disabled. Affirmative. Now what?”

  Chapter 13

  Beth Coulter wasn’t her given name. She’d had many different personas and had worn many disguises. She was a chameleon. A chameleon with a goal. To claim what was rightfully hers, leaving all the pretty people with their fancy degrees wondering where they’d gone wrong.

  She had recently shed the Beth Coulter image; now she was a dead ringer for Josef Scheinberg. A short, stubby man, with a heavy beard, obscuring his aging face. This humble man’s last mistake had been asking a woman he’d just met out to dinner. Today she sat behind his desk on the third floor of the Terran Space Station. Josef’s job had been to coordinate water supply to the station, which amounted to more than a million gallons a week. After only half a day of literally walking in his shoes, she was already bored to death with his job.

  Using his passwords, she established an encrypted channel to check with an operative—one of the last few with a neural implant in Portland. It would take a few moments to establish the connection.

  She waited and thought about being marooned on Terra for weeks after the All Points System Bulletin, plus the Wanted Notice image that went out following the huge CAMRI debacle. She was furious when her well-planned appropriation of data had been so disastrously mismanaged. Since then, a cyborg had been captured, all Terran military were being tested for neural implants, and she’d been identified at the Houston facility. Beyond which, the Malaysian plant had been discovered, ultimately closed with the owners arrested. The Lunar shuttle explosion should have taken care of all the pesky loose ends. Again, things didn’t go as planned. The loss of Yates as a key operative on Lunar was another blow.

  Her two wayward targets held crucial data that kept slipping through her grasp. Which left her with no recourse. She was forced to redirect her efforts toward the next best thing—their families. Not a fatal accident, yet. If they were dead, she’d have no leverage. The injuries needed to be so damaging it wouldn’t be misconstrued. She’d send an unmistakable message to Mark Warren and Eva Jackson. They were brilliant—not geniuses—but borderline. The logic of a fair trade wouldn’t be lost on them. Their data for the lives of their precious families.

  A trio of musical notes sounded, notifying her to transfer an avatar she used to communicate with this person to the vid screen.

  “Mayfield here.”

  “Report.”

  “Your orders were carried out successfully. However…”

  “Speak.”

  “Only one casualty. And…it did not return.”

  “Last known location.”

  “On the outskirts of the property near a creek.”

  “Scheisse. Retrieve it. Now.”

  “It’s dark—in the middle of the night. Lights out in the woods at this hour will attract attention, maybe even law enforcement. Shouldn’t it be given more time to return on its own?”

  “Retrieve it. Now. Or suffer a worse fate than its last victim.” She manually terminated their connection.

  Although she controlled a small army of cyborgs in countries around the globe, the Malaysian plant’s closure had blocked the production of additional units. The new plant in India wouldn’t be operational for some weeks—or more. She needed to be back on Terra to prevent any oversight issues. Because it had been almost impossible getting off Terra, she wasn’t anxious about going back. By the end of the day, she would possess all the clearance codes for arrivals and departures to the space station. Then she would be able to come and go as she pleased. When the time came, those codes would grant her access to the Martian space station with the same ambiguity as well.

  She walked into the next office. It was lunchtime and vacant. After moving a chair under the air vent, she climbed up, then squirted three droplets of RX-59, an airborne pathogen, into the air shaft. She put things back the way they were, then went to Josef’s quarters to check on the status of his liquefaction. The process was working quicker than expected, so she went to lunch, too.

  ***

  Mark drew the three Morgensen’s off to the side of the foam-encased cyborg. “Under penalty of treason and imprisonment in a military penitentiary, you must sign these waivers of non-disclosure, and take an oath never to divulge anything you’ve seen here tonight. You can say it was a bear. Hell, I don’t care if you say it was Big Foot. You just can’t say what you really saw.”

  “Shit, Mark, we’re not here, we’re all at home watching Westcoast Wrestling Superstars on the vid.” Cliff punched him in the arm, good-naturedly. “We’ll sign whatever you want us to.” They did, then corralled all the dogs, gave them treats, packed them in the vehicles to go home.

  Kamryn approached Mark. “Headquarters says they’re sending an express shuttle with a special container to transport this—specimen—back to Virginia. In case it sent out a distress signal before we rendered it inoperative, we need to secure the area. Watch for anyone coming to rescue it.”

  Mark stayed close, fighting the urge to laser through the foam and dissect it himself. Instead, he just waited like the rest of them.

  Axel ordered one armored soldier to guard the cyborg, spreading the rest into hiding places near the Mansion’s parking lot, to beyond the tree line. In the interim, their shuttle moved off about 100 feet, as another shuttle silently appeared. It descended, black armored troops jumped down with a large crate. They lifted the foamed mass into the box, locked the lid, and sped away without uttering a sound.

  Their shuttle assumed its original position, dispensed an aerosol from vents in its undercarriage, thereby eradicating any evidence of the foam substance. It drifted down, nestling in between the trees, then went dark—into stealth mode.

  Faint headlights flashed through the trees, alerting everyone to a vehicle entering the empty parking lot.

  Axel commed orders to everyone. “Do not approach.”

  A shadowy figure left the vehicle carrying a small tablet with a LED light. It made a beeline for the trees.

  Mark took out his gun, set it on maximum stun, moved up near the clearing, careful to stay hidden within the trees. He squelched the urge to fire at the moving shadow as it advanced into the forest. It passed just yards from where he stood. The shadow did not waiver, but walked, head down, straight toward the spot last occupied by the cyborg.

  A few yards before he stumbled into the shuttle, Kamryn stepped into his light with her gun drawn. “Halt, by order of Terran Military Defense.”

  He shot her.

  She shot him—twice.

  They both fell.

  In seconds, the injured were loaded into the shuttle, along with everyone else. Kamryn was unconsciou
s, bleeding profusely from the neck. They took off at breakneck speed to the hospital. One armored soldier pulled a packet from a hidden seam on his bicep, handed it to Axel. He tore off the wrapper, dropped to one knee beside Kamryn, jabbed her in the thigh with a syringe. Before long, those closest to her were standing in blood.

  Mark looked on, feeling helpless, remembering this scene from his first meeting with Axel. The soldier, Scarlotti, had been injured. He had died. For the first time, Mark was overwhelmed by his mortality. Death and dying. Eric, Scarlotti, his father, now Kamryn. All of it, in his mind, arranged by Beth Coulter. Mark Warren vowed to himself he would end her if it were the last thing he ever did.

  The major waited on the rooftop with gurneys and doctors. Medical halos went on at once. “He’s just stunned. Restrain him in a private room with two guards. Send in Deering and Ohashi.”

  The doctor held Kamryn’s hand while jogging alongside the gurney as they sped through the halls. She was ushered into an Operating theater. The doctor passed through the adjoining Cleansing anteroom, donned a sterile gown, mask, and gloves. The armored soldiers, including Axel, gathered outside the Operating room, holding vigil.

  Mark couldn’t. Instead, he went to join his family. In the ICU waiting room, Mark found the Lambert sisters waiting with his mother and sister. He gave them a thumbs up gesture. They broke into beaming grins, moved away so he could have a private moment with his family.

  Gina Warren sat composed, holding her mother close, as a parent would comfort a child. Leslie Warren looked totally different than when he’d first landed in Portland. Worry was written on her face. Stress weighed on her shoulders. A hopeful look in her eyes spoke volumes. Mark knelt in front of them. “We got him.”

  They both breathed sighs of relief.

  Axel walked in. Took a chair next to Gina.

  Mark’s mom began to speak. “We were supposed to go with Dave tonight. He was getting an award after the dinner. Before we left, I got an emergency call from a patient. Carol Ellison was taking her garbage out. She fell—broke a front tooth. Dave didn’t want me going to the office alone at night, so he made Gina go with me. It only took a few minutes to make a dental impression. Then I swung by the dental lab—tossed it in the overnight drop box. We were on our way to the Willamette Mansion to join your dad when Iris Lambert called. She said to meet the EMTs here.”

  ***

  Beth Coulter, still in the guise of Josef Scheinberg, strolled along the concourse of the Terran Space Station with impunity. She had completed the disposal of Scheinberg’s remains.

  She’d booked passage on a private starship, scheduled to leave the station in less than an hour for a return trip to Terra. Las Vegas would be her next stop. That gambling cesspit served as a delicatessen of ethnicities. There she would acquire a new persona. Portland was her actual destination. She needed to be closer to her target—and his family—to better execute a plan for acquiring the data she needed. She had the superior position, which meant she must hold on to it at all costs.

  The other target’s family member resided in Brooklyn, a huge population area compared to Portland, where it had been easy to locate the Warrens. Her New York operative had not yet sent a report on the status of his progress, meaning a stop on the east coast might be necessary as well. From there, she’d continue to India, to oversee the new plant and the titanium shipments required for cyborg production. Once she was in possession of all the data from her targets, she would execute the final phase of her ultimate goal. She intended to write history—and the elimination of anything or anyone that got in her way.

  ***

  Torance joined the small group in the ICU waiting room. He looked drained, with a surgical mask dangling from his neck, but no longer wearing an operating gown or gloves. His hands were clasped together at his chest, as if in payer. “She’s alive.”

  Mark was jubilant. Axel acted ecstatic. They rushed to shake his hand and clap him on the back.

  “Hold on. I didn’t say she was in the clear—she’s still critical. I’ve already given her the maximum nanite protocol. Need to wait another twelve hours before I can administer any more. They’re going to set her up in the adjoining ICU room next to you father, Mark. I’ll have a hover gurney brought in so I can catch a nap in her room. That way I can monitor both my patients.”

  The doctor walked over to his mother, knelt cupping her hand. “Mrs. Warren, I’m Maj. Nathan Torance. I’ll be taking care of your husband. Do not fear, ma’am. He’s improving as we speak. You can look in on him now, but make it quick. Then you need to go home—come back after you’ve had some rest—there’s nothing you can do here.”

  Leslie and Gina both stood to hug the doctor then hurried in to see Dave Warren.

  Mark watched the hospital staff guide Kamryn’s hover gurney through the hall, with the doctor following behind it into the room next to his dad’s. One armored soldier took up sentry duty inside each room, while the other two stood guard outside their doors.

  “Axel,” Mark said privately, “I’d sure feel better if you’d come with me to take my mom and sister home. If they meant to take out the whole family, I might need some backup at the house.”

  “I’m your wingman.” Axel thumped his chest with a fist. “Where you go—I go. Besides, the major’s right. Nothing I can do for Kamryn here. Go check on your dad. I need to find some more firepower.” He sprinted down the hall toward the exit leading to the rooftop.

  The minute Mark entered the room he saw the armored soldier in the corner, keeping watch over his father. He went straight to his dad’s bedside, put his arm around his mother’s shoulder, hugging her close. The medical halo had been removed. His dad’s whole head was shaved now, not just half as before. His father looked strangely intimidating bald, more than he had with a full head of hair. The creases had faded from his brow, nanites already healing his facial injuries. The machines continued blinking, showing his dad’s condition was inching toward improvement. If he’d been a child seeing his father like this, he would have cried. Not now. From somewhere deep inside his memories, he heard his father’s voice. “Deal with it—and persevere.” So he made a mental promise to his father. Deal later—Persevere now. Mark’s priority was to keep his mother and sister safe, and he needed Axel to help him do it.

  ***

  Beth Coulter, still in the persona of Josef Scheinberg, felt effervescent as she disembarked the private starship onto Terra firma. Her seatmate on the flight to Las Vegas would be her ticket to anonymity in Portland. The middle-aged chemical engineer, Tessa Underhill, now returning to Terra after her assignment ended on the Space Station. She’d been so talkative on the flight home, that Beth practically knew the woman’s whole life story by the time their ship settled on the tarmac. When Beth offered to buy dinner, Tessa had freely given up her hotel and room number.

  Before dinner, she had time to shop for a suitable wig, makeup, clothes and undergarments. At the appointed time, Beth knocked on Tessa’s door. When it opened, she used a stun baton to render Tessa unconscious. After opening a body bag on the floor, Beth rolled Tessa onto it, then set the stun on lethal, and terminated her victim. She took off the corpse’s jewelry, poured one hundred and twenty-four milliliters of liquefaction solvent to the face and various identifying marks on the epidermis. While that was working, she used Tessa’s credit account to book a flight to Portland, leaving in four hours.

  She stripped down, eliminating all vestiges of the Josef Scheinberg disguise and began the meticulous work of turning herself into the new persona of Tessa Underhill. She showered, dressed in new undies, clothing, borrowed jewelry, applied makeup, a wig. She felt like a new woman. Beth snorted. She was a new woman. Her reflection in the mirror was a very good likeness of the picture on her new identification card; an inconspicuous female of average height with brown hair and eyes. Then she removed the corpse’s fingerprints, using surgical glue to apply them to her own. She admired her handiwork. Handiwork—she was witty, too. Now
her prints would match those on the card as well.

  Beth emptied Tessa’s suitcase, stuffed the body bag with its contents inside, then guided it to the service elevator. There she dumped the body bag out, pushed the button sending the car to the basement, walked out of the elevator with an empty case. Before leaving the room, all evidence of anyone’s presence was expunged. Female clothing went into the travel case; men’s went into a shopping bag—to be discarded in an appropriately ubiquitous location.

  Functioning as Tessa Underhill, she checked out of the hotel early—giving a family emergency as a bona fide reason—and went straight to the spaceport for her flight to Portland.

  Chapter 14

  Axel stood on the hospital’s rooftop. He seethed with anger as guards loaded their prisoner, the man who had shot Kamryn, into a shuttle. It was bound for HQ in Virginia, where the prisoner would undergo extreme interrogation. He wanted to pounce on the man and drive a stake through his heart. But he wouldn’t—today.

  As that one left, another TMD troop transport carrying a fresh platoon of armored reinforcements descended to the rooftop. Axel commed Mark to bring his family up to board the new shuttle.

  A few soldiers jumped out. They would remain at the hospital guarding the two injured. When Kamryn was off the critical list, she would be transferred back to their home base. Now the bulk of the troops would be sent to the Warren’s residence to scan, search and secure the grounds, exterior and interior before the women would be allowed to enter.

  After the two women had boarded, Axel helped them harness up. Mrs. Warren trembled. Gina tried to console her. They were both anxious and afraid.

  “This is like a walk in the park, Mrs. Warren. Nothing to be afraid of. You’ll be home in a few minutes. We’re just going to make sure everything is safe.”

  “I don’t understand, Sergeant. I hoped…expected…Mark to come home when his father got hurt. I’m confused as to why the military is involved. Especially this much military.” She waved her hand, to include the twenty-five black armored soldiers, wearing helmets, with their weapons and gear. “This is unnerving.”