Specimen

by Shay Savage

  “Don’t get hit.” She smiles up at me.

  “I’ve got this,” I respond. Hit or not, I have no intention of disappointing Riley.

  She reaches up and runs her hand over the side of my face, whispers good luck, and backs away with the other doctors.

  I can clearly see a map of the entire area in my head. Each building is labeled, each street named. We briefly discuss the best paths, and I choose the one that is slightly longer but with limited access to the hospital and corporate buildings with the highest chance for civilian interaction, aside from the Yost Financial Building itself. I don’t want to take chances.

  Stealth is key.

  We move in a triangle formation with me taking point and the others behind me at equal distance. Isaac sets the pace, and our boots thump against the asphalt as we run through the streets.

  It seems like I should feel some sense of freedom, but I don’t. This is the first time I’ve been outside and away from the physical confines of the Mills medical facility, the first time I’ve been on my own. There may not be any locked doors around me, but the bars inside my head hold strong. The thought of freedom is only a brief flicker in the back of my head.

  “Status.” Riley’s voice calls out in my head.

  I take in everything with all of my senses. I memorize the route, the buildings, and the faces I see as we run past. I catalog each sound I hear—each scent, each taste in the air. I count the number of steps I take and average the length of my strides. Comparing my strides, our speed, and the map in my head makes it easy to calculate how long it should take to complete our mission.

  “Time to objective, forty-three minutes without incident.”

  “There will be incidents, Sten. Keep sharp.”

  “Acknowledged.” Before I get the entire word out, movement at the top of a three-story building catches my attention.

  “Pike. One-thirty.”

  “Verified.”

  “Count?”

  “Four.”

  “Two left,” Isaac says. “Nine o’clock.”

  We barely have to speak to one another. One word utterances convey more information than others would be able to convey in sentences. With a glance, I can determine which of the targets is in Pike’s sites and who the next target will be.

  Shots are fired, and we dodge in unison before returning fire.

  “Targets one, four, five—eliminated,” Riley says. “Two is on the move.”

  “Got him.”

  “That was all of them. Nice job, Sten!”

  I grin slightly at her praise and see a similar expression on Isaac’s face. Pike is scowling, and I wonder what Dr. McCall has said to him.

  I focus forward. There’s a fork in the road ahead, and as we approach, I see a large group of soldiers lining the sides of the streets.

  “We can take them,” Pike says.

  “We could,” I agree, “but we’re not going to. Avoid contact when necessary. Alter course.”

  A vibration runs through my head. It’s a tremor, like a feedback loop. My gaze meets Pike’s. He doesn’t like my decision, and I realize the sensation is his silent disapproval.

  “Status.”

  “Rerouting. New estimated time to objective, twenty-seven minutes.”

  “Dr. McCall is questioning your choice of direction. She says you can handle the targets, and the new route will slow you down.”

  “No need to engage a large group when there are other alternatives. ETA increased by three-point-six minutes. Sixteen potential complications, including civilian distractions would add six to eight minutes to the time line.”

  “Solid. Good work.”

  Isaac nods at me, but Pike has already turned his focus to the new trajectory. We head to the right, away from the large group.

  “One-seven percent.” The brief message is enough for my two companions to increase their speed to match mine. If McCall is concerned about our time, this should make up for it.

  Several civilians stop and watch as we run by, keeping close to buildings. We have to dodge a couple of them, but none seem surprised to see us. Most of them move out of our way as we approach. Some even wave at us.

  I wonder exactly what they think we are and if they understand our purpose.

  We start down a long street with structures lining both sides. I’m on alert. This is a good place for an attack, and I’m not surprised when shots ring out. Pike is nearly hit as he jumps sideways and ducks into a doorway. Isaac and I take up similar positions.

  I watch the angle of the shots, and based on the shots fired, identify seven soldiers. I hear Isaac confirm the number as we begin to return fire. Within thirty seconds, we’ve eliminated them all and continue on our way. As we pass the “dead” men, they sit on the ground with their hands up in the air. The boxes on their chests blink green.

  We encounter four other groups with similar results. The numbers aren’t high, and it’s relatively easy to dodge their blows. I look up at the rooftops as we move along the street.

  “We’re close.” Pike and Isaac nod at me, and Pike points out the best way to go. There are only a half-dozen blocks left. I follow Pike to the south, down an alley. We all slow our pace as we approach the building where our objective is to be found.

  Cautiously, we make our way around the row of buildings and come to the side of the Yost Financial Building. For a moment, we all look around to get a better feel for our surroundings.

  “See the tower?” I ask.

  “It would be the hardest to access,” Isaac says. “That has to be where the flag is.”

  “Definitely.” Pike agrees with a nod.

  “Most likely,” I say. “That should be our destination.”

  “We could scale the walls,” Pike suggests. “There will be civilians inside as well as guards. If we can get around back and enter one floor below, we might not be detected immediately.”

  “There’s security all around,” Isaac says. “They’ll probably see us before we reach halfway.”

  I go over the building’s security information in my head.

  “It would be a harder climb, but there are blind spots in the back. If we can stay inside of those, we should be able to make it up six floors without being spotted. Once we’re inside, all alarms will be triggered, but there are only two more floors to cover, and the stairwell is close to where we’ll enter.”

  “Let’s do it,” Pike says.

  “Solid.” Isaac nods.

  We make our way to the back of the building and begin to scale the walls in a zigzag, avoiding the camera angles. The climb is easy enough for us, even when we have to shift sideways to get to another set of bricks suitable for handholds.

  I nod toward the window that will be our access point. Isaac and Pike fan out around me as I approach it from the bottom center. I pull myself up to the ledge and peer inside.

  Two civilians are inside, sitting at a table and going over a stack of papers. They don’t look in our direction as we take our positions on the ledge. With a glance and a nod, we smash the window and simultaneously dive inside the building.

  The two civilians jump out of their seats, and one man places his hand on his chest as he takes a step back. Isaac directs them with his weapon to the corner of the room, and one man grins and nods as he holds his hands in surrender and looks all three of us up and down appreciatively.

  At least they know something like this might happen.

  Pike takes cording from his belt and loosely binds the hands of the two civilians as they sit on the floor.

  “No escaping now!” He winks at them as he stands back up.

  Both of the men smile and nod, obviously enjoying their part in the game. They could easily slip the cord from their wrists any time they like, but they are out as far as we are concerned. It makes little difference. As soon as we are out in the hallway, alarms start to ring.

  Without a need for words, the three of us head down the hall in the same direction, heading straight for the
stairs. The alarm echoes loudly through the stairwell as we make our way up three flights with lightning speed. At the top, a single door opens into a top-level conference room.

  A large table in the center of the room is brightly lit from overhead lights. The walls hold abstract art consisting of shockingly bright colors in large frames. They’re so vivid, I almost feel like I could hear what the paintings have to say if I concentrated enough.

  “Sten.” Isaac’s voice catches my attention, and I look where he’s pointing. I see the flag immediately. It’s on a stand in the back of the room, surrounded by nine soldiers who open fire immediately.

  Despite the numbers, we are ready for exactly this kind of interaction. Isaac drops below the table, going for the legs of our adversaries. At the same time, Pike moves left and I move right, dodging the laser blasts and taking the targets out one by one. Each man falls as he’s hit, playing dead as the green lights flash on his chest.

  The flag is right in front of us, but as Pike approaches it, I turn around slowly, weapon aimed. Something isn’t right.

  This was too easy.

  I meet Isaac’s gaze, and I know he feels the same way. Pike reaches for the flag. As soon as he touches it, panels in the ceiling quickly slide back, revealing three groups of men up in the rafters of the tower, all armed. We’ve walked into an ambush.

  Where Pike stands is in the center of the crossfire, but his focus is now on two of the “dead” men below him. They grab on and pull him to the ground. Isaac begins to shoot above us, and I join in, trying to maneuver to Pike’s side as I fire. He doesn’t understand how quickly he’ll be hit; his face is a mask of rage directed at those who were playing dead.

  Neither of them held their hands in surrender, indicating they’d been hit. There is a lesson to be learned there.

  “Target left!” I call out to Isaac as I head for Pike. He’s back on his feet but still grappling with the two soldiers in front of him.

  I move to engage, grabbing the arm of one of the soldiers and twisting it backward. I hear his wince of pain, but my actions are only enough to dissuade him, not break his arm like I would have done if the situation were not an exercise. I toss him out of the way as shots ring out.

  I see the box on my chest light up before I feel the pain in my thigh. It radiates quickly, sending a shock through my body.

  I’ve been hit.

  Chapter 9

  I’ve been hit during virtual training before, but the pain this time is much more intense. For a fraction of a second, I hesitate, and Pike is hit from the crossfire as well.

  He jerks back and shakes his head slightly before narrowing his eyes and focusing again on the last solider in front of him. Pike leans back and kicks his opponent, sending him flying. With one shot from Isaac’s weapon, the soldier’s chest box lights up, and he holds his hands in surrender. All three of us concentrate on the final few soldiers up in the ceiling.

  “Report, Sten!” Riley’s voice invades my head.

  “Objective in sight.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Minor hit,” I tell her. “All is good.”

  “Get moving, then,” she says. “You’re running out of time.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Pike finishes off the last adversary in the rafters. Isaac grabs the flag, and we’re on our way back. We need a fast pace to get back on time, but I’m slowed slightly by the wound in my leg, and the ambush had taken up more time than it should have.

  We engage with two other groups of soldiers on our way back, but they are easily eliminated. It’s a clean shot back to the base now.

  “Pick up the pace!” I call out, and we break into a run. I can barely keep up with Isaac’s speed, but I hang on. At our top speed, we’ll be three and a half minutes past our maximum time.

  All three of us push beyond limits we’ve attempted before, even without injuries. I hear the heartbeats of my companions and compare them with my own slightly faster pulse. Ahead of us is the entrance to the base, and we push to our top speed, but we all know we’re late.

  When we cross the threshold, there is cheering from some of the soldiers who have watched our performance over closed-circuit screens. Captain Mills is smiling and nodding, as is Dr. Rahul. Dr. McCall has a passive expression as Pike moves to stand beside her, but I only care about Riley’s interpretation of my performance.

  The bright smile on her face is all I need to see.

  I limp over to her, and she immediately makes an adjustment to the box on my chest, eliminating the pain running through my leg. I reach down and rub my thigh, but there is only slight residual soreness.

  “You did so well,” Riley says as she reaches up and strokes the side of my face. I feel my pulse subside and my breathing quiet at her touch. “Your instincts kicked in just when they should. The decisions you made to go around the large group and scale the building were sound, and you even took a shot, providing cover for one of the other specimens. I couldn’t have asked for a better performance.”

  “We went over time.”

  “Not by much,” she says. “These are designed to challenge you.”

  I nod and take a deep breath, glad the pain in my leg is gone. Riley gives me one more smile before we head back to the medical facility.

  Very little is said as we board the helicopter and fly back over the city. The three doctors all focus on their tablets, quickly analyzing data from our mission. My thigh is still a little sore from where I was hit, but otherwise, I feel great.

  We return to the field outside the medical center and gather in the middle. Captain Mills and the other men in officers’ uniforms are all there, looking at their own tablets.

  “Let’s debrief,” Captain Mills says. “Overall, well done. Mission accomplished, but there are a few things we need to improve.”

  One of the uniformed officers steps up to the lectern and presents an overview of the entire exercise. Riley and the other doctors listen closely, taking notes. I focus on Riley and stay silent. I remember every second of the mission and have no need for a recap.

  “Timing was four minutes, twelve seconds over the estimate, which is within established parameters. Forty-two and seventy-two both took hits, which is an unacceptable percentage.”

  Riley taps on her tablet. Two of the knuckles on her left hand turn white as she grips the machine. She’s not happy though I’m unsure whether it is the words of the officer or data on her display that displeases her.

  The formal debriefing ends, and Captain Mills approaches our group.

  “Not bad for a first test,” she says.

  “Too much going off the standard practice,” McCall says. “That’s obviously your influence there, Riley. If this hadn’t been a training exercise, they could have been surrounded during the third encounter.”

  “I’d calculated for that possibility,” I tell her. Instead of easing her mind, as I’d intended, the information annoys her.

  “There’s a reason for standards,” she says as she scowls at me. “I don’t expect you to understand that, given your programmer.”

  My skin tingles as my muscles tense.

  “Sten.” Riley’s voice is soft as she reaches out and rubs my arm with her hand. “We’ll make the final data analysis once were back in the lab. If adjustments need to be made, we’ll make them at that time.”

  “There was a lot of improvising,” Dr. Rahul says. “Though it was successful, it is not best practice.”

  “One of the soldiers suffered a dislocated shoulder,” McCall says. “That isn’t supposed to happen though I’m not surprised. Considering Dr. Grace’s methods, I’d recommend not putting specimen seventy-two in the command position again. He’s unpredictable.”

  “Those two were warned about engaging in hand-to-hand during this exercise,” Captain Mills says. “They were all informed of that potential risk.”

  “Was he expecting to end up in the hospital?” McCall asks. “Because that’s where he is. Dr. Grace’s
methods need to be reexamined.”

  “Dr. Grace’s methods are not your concern,” Captain Mills tells her. “I’ll want detailed reports of all your comparative data, especially any differentiations. If I see what I expect to see, we’ll start the other specimens on the altered formula immediately.”

  Dr. McCall’s eyes widen. She lowers her tablet to her side and takes a step toward Mills.

  “I highly discourage that course of action,” McCall says. “He injured an officer during a training session—a good one, I might add. One specimen is not a sound trial. We’ve already lost thirty-two of them.”

  “How are those losses relevant?” Riley asks. “None of those specimens were using my formula.”

  “We can’t risk losing more based on the sloppy research of one suspect doctor and her single specimen.” Dr. McCall sneers at Riley before turning back to address Captain Mills. “That’s not how we should proceed. It isn’t even good science. If anything, this demonstrates the need to remove Dr. Grace and her specimen from this project altogether.”

  A single flash in my mind tenses my body, and I am instantly on high alert. My stomach quivers, and my skin feels hot.

  Riley is in danger.

  I step in front of Riley, my hands instinctively balled into fists. A quarter second later, Pike is face to face with me. I glare into his eyes. The fact that I have to look up to meet his harsh gaze doesn’t concern me. No one is going to speak to Riley that way, and if I have to kill one of the other specimens to protect her, I have no problem with that.

  My comrade had instantly become my enemy.

  I watched him during the training. I know his weak spots. In the course of two seconds, we evaluate each other, and I lower my head and plow into him, sending him backward.

  He’s ready for the hit, and we roll together. He is stronger than anyone I encountered in the virtual training sessions, but not as strong as I. I punch and kick him, and he returns each blow as we wrestle on the ground.

  The fight is cut short as a blinding pain races through my body. I feel Pike stiffen at the same time. There are eight uniformed men around us, pulling us apart as the incapacitating pain continues. It doesn’t stop until we’ve been separated by several meters, and I’m pulled to my feet by three of the soldiers.