by James Walker
Several guards came forward to greet the disembarking passengers, along with a crisp young lieutenant. Koga returned the officer's salute and ordered him to billet the troops and to escort Koga and Astral to the base's medical facilities.
Koga found the infirmary better equipped than he anticipated, with facilities adequate not only for advanced treatment, but even biological research. The lieutenant took Koga to an office adjoined to the medical facility, where a tall woman with glasses and a severe manner sat behind a desk, drinking coffee and poring through documents on her computer. Koga noticed extra pinnings on the woman's uniform that marked her as a distinguished medical scientist, qualified for treating not only normals but also augments and other forms of genetically-modified humans.
“This is Lieutenant Commander Chandra Acoustic, chief of Fort Spriggan's medical department,” the escort said. “Whatever your guest's treatment requirements, she'll be able to handle them.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Koga said. “You are dismissed.”
“Sir.”
As the lieutenant left, Acoustic stood up and asked, “Can I help you, Commander...?”
“Ryu Koga, executive officer of the T.U.S.S. Onyx Down,” Koga introduced himself.
A tiny smile creased Acoutisc's lips. “Ah. The vessel that demolished Port Osgow.”
Koga stiffened, but made no reply.
“I didn't know your mission had taken you to the surface,” Acoustic said. “So, what can I do for you, Commander?”
“First,” Koga said, “note that everything that passes between us is a matter of Union security, and is to remain confidential. Absolutely no one is to know.”
“I understand.”
“Very good. Then...” Koga followed Acoustic's curious stare to Astral's hooded countenance. “What I'd like, Lieutenant Commander, is for you to perform a full analysis on this.”
With one swift movement, Koga pulled Astral's hood back. Acoustic gasped and came around her desk, then bent down to look more closely at Astral. Astral mirrored Acoustic's curiosity, staring with particular interest at her glasses.
“My word, Commander,” Acoustic breathed, “what is she? Where did she come from?”
“She came from one of our research labs,” Koga replied. “I don't know all the details. As to what she is, that's what I'd like to find out. Can you analyze her?”
“Yes, certainly.” Acoustic stood up and adjusted her glasses. “Is she communicative? Can she talk?”
“When she feels like it,” Koga replied. “I'm not really sure how intelligent she is.”
“I see.” Acoustic looked down at Astral and tried to assume a friendly expression, which in her case meant a lack of a scowl. “What's your name, young lady? Can you tell me?”
Astral cast her gaze at her feet and muttered, “Experimental subject 778.”
“That's it?” Acoustic asked. “Just a number? No name?”
Astral hesitated, then said, “Astral.”
“Astral? That's a curious name.” Acoustic glanced at Koga. “Have you tried asking her what she is?”
Koga was taken aback. “I hadn't thought of that.”
“Well, then let's try that first.” Acoustic turned back to Astral. “Astral, can you tell me why you have three eyes?”
“Because they modified my genome sequence and merged my embryo with a foreign cellular cluster in the early stages of development,” Astral replied.
Acoustic was momentarily surprised by the girl's answer, but quickly recovered. “To what purpose?” she asked. “What does your third eye do?”
Keeping her human eyes fixed on the ground, Astral clasped her hands behind her back and nervously shuffled her feet. “It receives things.”
“What does it receive?” Acoustic pressed.
“Um.” Astral continued her nervous shuffling. “Messages.”
“Messages from where?”
“Everywhere.”
Acoustic sighed. “What do the messages say?”
“They don't really say things.” Astral glanced up at the taller woman. “At least, not in a way that you would understand.”
Acoustic turned to Koga. “I guess we'll have to do the analysis after all.” She placed one hand on Astral's shoulder and guided her out of the office. “Come along, child. We'll run some tests that might explain what we want to know more clearly. They won't hurt, so just relax.”
Koga accompanied Acoustic and Astral back to the infirmary proper. Acoustic performed some rudimentary tests on Astral, took some tissue samples, then ran her through the scanning machine. As the scanner did its work, Acoustic read the output at a console while Koga watched.
“Excepting her skull, she has a normal musculoskeletal structure,” Acoustic observed. “Nothing obviously amiss with her internal organs from the neck down. She's quite small, so her growth development might have been slightly stunted, but not enough to be considered an abnormality. She seems to have a condition similar to albinism, but no related disorders. I'm assuming these are merely inconsequential side effects from whatever genetic alteration she underwent.”
“So basically,” Koga said, “everything that makes her special is in her head.”
“That's my initial impression,” Acoustic replied. “Despite superficial outward appearances, the internal structure of her third eye is completely different from a human eye. Her brain exhibits remarkable departures from the normal human structure. I've never seen anything like this before. Honestly, I'm surprised that anything with a brain like this can exhibit more or less normal human behaviors and communication, as she seems able to do. That's about all I can say at the moment. I'd need to do targeted scans and a lot of detailed analysis to draw any meaningful conclusions.”
“Then you're not sure what her modified brain and eye are for?” Koga asked.
“Right now, not the slightest clue.” Acoustic turned away from the console. “That's how things look at the organism level. Let's delve down into her cellular structure and see if that sheds some more light on our little puzzle.”
Acoustic prepared one of Astral's tissue samples and looked at it through a microscope. After several moments, her eyes widened in fear.
“By Thera's soil,” she gasped.
Acoustic spun away from the microscope and rushed back to the scanner console. Her fingers became a blur as she rapidly input a sequence of commands.
“Radiation levels,” she said breathlessly. “What are the radiation levels?”
Koga looked at Acoustic in bewilderment. “What's wrong?”
“Give me a moment.” Acoustic finished inputting the commands and stared at the results in astonishment. “Radiation readings normal? How is that possible?”
She went back to the microscope and continued scrutinizing the tissue sample. “Sure enough, it's right there,” she said. “And it's clearly functional, yet inactive. Was this the researchers' objective? But what does that have to do with the third eye and the abnormal brain structure?”
“Lieutenant Commander,” Koga said, his impatience growing. “Would you kindly tell me what on earth is going on?”
“Yes, of course.” Acoustic pulled away from the microscope and turned to face Koga. “This girl's cells have diffusion organelles. She's a Messenger.”
Koga's eyes widened in terror. “No,” he whispered. “We've been exposed. The whole base could be infected—”
Acoustic shook her head. “No, it's all right. I checked the radiation readings and they're negative. She's not emitting anything but normal body heat.”
Koga's fear turned to confusion. “But...”
“Tell me, Commander,” Acoustic said, “how much do you know about Messengers?”
“Only what's common knowledge,” Koga said. “Life forms exposed to Sarisan radiation undergo rapid change in an effect called xeno-adaptation. The effect usually proves fatal in humans, so it's vital that we protect ourselves from the radiation at all times. A few humans exposed to Sarisan radia
tion mutate so that they, themselves, emit that same radiation, exposing everyone around them. They become carriers. Humans so infected are called Messengers.”
Acoustic nodded. “That's the basic idea. Specifically, Messengers' cells rapidly alter their own D.N.A. They inevitably end up killing themselves as they replace their meaningful genetic information with junk. But it's not all nonsense. The one thing they have in common is that their cells grow an extra organelle, called a diffuser, that emits the same radiation that caused the change in the first place. When that happens, we call it replication or repil radiation. This girl's cells are swarming with diffusers.”
“Then why isn't she emitting anything?” Koga asked.
“I wish I could tell you,” Acoustic replied. “Her diffusers are chemically active, but they're not doing anything. On top of that, her genetic sequence is obviously stable. She's not in any danger from her infection. And neither are we.”
“Not right now, you mean.” Koga glanced through the transparent partition at Astral, who was lying in the scanner, looking bored and uncomfortable. “But she could start emitting repil radiation at any time, couldn't she?”
“I can't rule out that possibility,” Acoustic admitted. “It's even possible that she might be able to control the emissions at will. Maybe she was developed as a living weapon for the purpose of infecting target groups with repil radiation. Biological warfare.”
“In that case,” Koga said, “the only thing that's keeping the whole base from being infected is her good feeling towards us.”
Acoustic shrugged. “I was only speculating.”
“Speculation or not, we can't take the risk,” Koga said. “We'll have to put her in quarantine immediately.”
Acoustic adjusted her glasses. “Sure, I can quarantine her, but it won't do any good. The designers of this facility never counted on having to protect against Sarisan radiation from the inside. She could send radiation waves right through the walls and we couldn't do anything to stop her.”
“Surely you can do something,” Koga pressed.
Acoustic sighed. “Let me talk to the engineers. Maybe together we can put together some kind of makeshift shield.”
“Make sure that you do,” Koga said. “And we'd better give everyone from my unit and all those who've been exposed to them a check-up, to make sure no one's been infected.”
“Yes,” Acoustic agreed. She looked through the partition to Astral, who in her boredom had begun twirling a strand of wavy silver hair around her finger. “That would be a good idea.”
*
One by one, the rebels left the encampment with their hands behind their heads and marched up to the waiting P.S.A. force. When Vic's turn came, he was thoroughly searched, scanned, and then injected with an unknown fluid while a pair of exosuits, several attack drones, and two squads of infantry watched, ready to open fire at the slightest sign of rebel trickery.
Finally, all of the rebels had been processed and were led back to the surface under armed guard. A fleet of prison wagons awaited them on the surface. Once all of the rebels were loaded onto the wagons, they made their way to a prison facility located in the most remote outskirts of Hongpan. The prison was surrounded by high walls festooned with barbed wire, with searchlight-equipped guard towers spaced at regular intervals around the perimeter. After checking in at the main gate, the wagons rolled inside the facility and stopped at an offloading station, where numerous armed guards stood ready while the rebels disembarked. Once the rebels were assembled into neat rows, an enormous viewscreen that loomed over the offloading area blinked on, displaying the face of Executive Director Ridley Nimh.
“Welcome, Greenwings, to Hongpan's maximum security prison,” Ridley's voice boomed out. “You may be wondering about the injection that we administered to each of you as we accepted your surrender. What you have been injected with is a delayed-action poison that kills the victim after 12 hours—unless a counteragent is administered, which buys the injected individual another 12 hours of life. Even should you stage a successful revolt and escape, you will soon be dead since we will then be unable to deliver the counteragent to you. Normally, I would prefer a more humane method to guarantee your loyalty, but unfortunately this was the only option we could devise in the time available.”
Vic bristled, but under the watchful eyes of the guards, he gave no outward expression to his anger. Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see by their expressions that his fellow rebels were similarly outraged at their treatment.
Ridley continued, “In keeping with the terms of your surrender, those of you fit for combat will be transported to an enemy facility, where together with a company of disguised P.S.A. forces you will launch an assault to capture the facility. Those unable to participate in the operation will remain here as prisoners. We're still finalizing the details of the operation, so until we're finished, you'll have to cool your heels in prison. You will be given further information about the operation when it becomes relevant. That is all.”
The screen blinked off, and the guards directed the rebels inside the prison. They made their way through a series of cold, bleak corridors, past cells occupied by violent criminals who jeered as they went by.
Deep within the prison, the rebels encountered a corridor flanked by regeneration tanks. Inside several of the tanks floated rebel prisoners who had been wounded so severely that only immediate regen-submersion treatment could save them. They floated serenely within the healing liquid, their eyes closed from sedation and their breathing regulated by oxygen masks fastened to their faces.
Vic was surprised that the P.S.A. had gone to such lengths to save the injured prisoners. His surprise was tinged with relief when he recognized one of the figures floating inside the regeneration tanks: Cena Northwood, a hideous wound in her side where it had been pierced by a exosuit-sized blade, the gaping hole being slowly repaired by the nutrients and nanomachines of the regeneration fluid.
Finally, the rebels were taken to a block of cells and forced inside. There were far too many of them to fit comfortably, resulting in significant overcrowding. As the door slammed shut behind them, Vic turned to stare at the bars of his cell, wondering whether he would ever know freedom from the Union's oppression outside of death—wishing, though he knew it was futile, for one more chance to see the face of the girl who had been locked inside the Cage, to ask her who she was and why she had called out to him from inside her mechanical prison.
37
Exhausted from his latest ordeal and lacking anything else to do, Vic curled up on the cold floor of his cell and went to sleep. He did not know how long he slept, untroubled by dreams, but he was awakened some time later by something slamming against the bars of the cell. As he stirred back into consciousness, he looked in the direction of the sound and saw a guard tapping his stun rod against the bars.
“Rise and shine, all you smiling faces.” The guard tossed a small box through the bars, which clattered onto the floor next to Vic. “Those pills are the counteragent for your poison. There's one for each of you. Don't lose any, now. Each of those pills is worth 12 hours of life for one person. Taking more than one won't buy you one extra second alive, but it will screw your buddies over.”
Vic grabbed the box, popped it open, and swallowed one of the pills before passing it to the nearest comrade. Once the box made its way around the cell, the guard validated his biometric data at the door, which clicked open.
“Everybody fall in line,” he ordered. “You might notice that you're feeling a little sluggish. That's not 'cause you're groggy from waking up. It's a little something extra we put in the counteragent to make you slow and weak for a little while. So don't get any bright ideas about trying to escape.”
Under the watchful eye of numerous guards, the rebels filed out of their cells. The guards directed them through the prison's labyrinthine corridors until they emerged into the open air. It was still night outside. A thick cloud cover hung low over the earth, blotting out
the stars and painting the sky black. The day-night cycle on Chalice was so long that the human residents split it up into three wake-sleeping cycles such that they maintained a 2:1 ratio of awake-during-daylight to awake-at-night periods, and vice-versa for sleeping periods.
The guards once again lined up the rebels in front of one of the prison's giant viewscreens. After a few moments, Ridley's face appeared to address the assembled prisoners.
“We're about to commence the assault operation,” he announced. “You'll all find out eventually, so I suppose I might as well tell you now. The target is a T.U. Spacy base located approximately 300 kilometers to the northwest.”
Vic stared at the viewscreen in disbelief, not convinced that he had heard correctly. Surprised murmurs rippled through the prisoners until the guards silenced them with shouted threats.
“An emergency tribunal of the Colonial Administration has found these Spacy forces guilty of serious crimes against the colonial government,” Ridley explained. “Due to the highly sensitive nature of this issue, the attack is being conducted as a shadow op, with the objective of eliminating the officers in command of the rogue unit. There is also an object in the possession of the rogue unit which we intend to confiscate for the purposes of colonial security. Unfortunately, details about the exact nature of this object are sketchy at the moment. For the purposes of this operation, we will refer to the object as Tango.”
A thrill ran through Vic at this information. Almost he could see the luminescent, three-eyed silhouette from his visions reaching out to him. Did he dare to hope that there remained a possibility of contacting this phantom which had haunted his mind these past weeks?
Ridley continued, “The airspace around the base is closely monitored, rendering an aerial insertion impractical. You will presently be escorted to a fleet of water transports which will make their way up the Goldenenfluss river. Together with a disguised P.S.A. company under my direct command, we will disembark at the edge of Taidamori forest and make our way to the base on foot. This approach vector will allow us to remain undetected for as long as possible. Once we reach the base, we'll overwhelm the defenses with a blitz attack and execute the commanding officers of the rogue unit. We will then take Tango into custody once it has been successfully identified.
