Dreamscape Saga Part 1: Project Falcon

by D. L. Sorrells

  “Wendy, I need you and the rest of the team to strap down the subject in the next room. As soon as you’ve finished, come get me. I’ll have security posted in just a moment. In the meantime, make no attempts to resuscitate the man. We don’t know who he is yet, and I don’t want to risk anything.”

  Wendy cocked her eyes slightly. “Doesn’t that seem a bit extreme for one man? Even if he tried something, wouldn’t the automatic containment field hold him?”

  Malone swallowed, wishing he could give her an answer, but it didn’t make any sense to him either. Sykes told him to take the precautions, and he would.

  After Malone left the room, Wendy was soon joined by three other men of varying stature. One was a little too thick in the middle, another too thin in the shoulders, and the third was simply too short to be taken seriously, but they all carried the same drab looks on their faces as they walked into the room.

  Before them, lying on a standard medical bed, was a man of no obvious physical distinction. The closer Wendy looked, the more interesting the man was. First, Wendy had remembered the man having several minor scratches and cuts he received when he was removed from the colony. Now however, none remained. It was as though her mind was playing tricks on her, but even to the touch, she could feel no such blemishes.

  The woman felt the urge to document her findings. She sought out a medical tablet while the three men worked to secure the subject. Wendy first made note of the disappearance of all scratches and cuts while continuing to examine the man. She lifted each of his eyelids and was somewhat taken back by his eyes. One was blue while the other was green. Although not necessarily unusual, the intense color was particular striking. She ran her hands over his long face, and was surprised by the complete lack of imperfections. She expected to find a mole, a freckle, anything really, but could not produce anything of the sort. His eyes, ears, and nose were perfectly symmetrical in a way that was unnatural at best. At first glance, the man was physically perfect.

  Pulling down the sheet that covered the subject, Wendy was taken aback by yet more oddities. The man had firm muscles with such toning that it was almost sickening to look at. Odder still was the presence of stretch marks over his shoulders and pectoral muscles that one would expect to see on a boy early in puberty. However, this man appeared to be in his early to mid twenties, and the stretch marks appeared to be new with the skin barely able to cling to his body without ripping. Her hand moved curiously down his chest, feeling the warmth of his body, but gasped when her hand grazed his stomach. Where she expected to continue feeling warmth was nothing but cold metal.

  “This can’t possibly be real,” she said to herself, but the more she touched it, the more she was able to convince herself. In place of the man’s abdomen was a machine, perfectly integrated into his body, making hushed whirring and beeping noises. What it was, she had no idea, but she knew Doctor Malone would love the opportunity to examine it.

  “Hello,” she heard from a voice that was a little deeper than most, but not so much as to intimidate her.

  Wendy jumped back in fear when she realized that the voice had not come from any of the men she brought into the room. Her eyes quickly met those of the subject that was strapped down tightly and she almost wept in fear. His eyes were intense, and she wished that he would just turn away.

  “I’m sorry,” said the rich voice, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  There was no way for Wendy to regain her composure, and she continued to press herself against the wall in fear that the man would break free of his restraints.

  “Get Doctor Malone in here now!” she said to any one of the three men. The tallest ran out and returned a moment later with the Doctor and six fully armed guards.

  “Damn it Wendy, I told you not to revive him!”

  “But I—”

  “Leave us, all of you!” he snapped.

  The other doctors left and the guards walked just out of the room, but continued to look on through the glass.

  Malone studied the man carefully without saying a word, something that was obviously bothering his subject.

  “Why am I restrained?”

  The doctor responded by raising a dusty-gray eyebrow, further adding to his subject’s discomfort. There was always a slight chill aboard any spaceship, and the MSS was no exception. Since Wendy had removed the only covering the man had for his upper body, he felt a cold that contributed to his fear.

  An eternity of silence passed, and the doctor at last found enough decency to address the man as if he were a person instead of a subject.

  “Would you mind telling me what that machine on your abdomen does?”

  The subject considered the matter carefully for a moment. “I would love to, but I have no clue.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Again, I don’t have an answer for you.”

  “Come now, everyone has a name. I was controlled by the Serum as well, but I remembered mine. Now please, what is your name?”

  “I promise you, I don’t have any better idea than you.”

  Malone grew irritated. “Do you know anything? Where were you born? Who was your mother? Why were you on the research colony? What did you see when you were in the Dreamscape? Is there anything that you could possibly tell me that may be of even the least significance?”

  Fear was getting the best of the subject and he was starting to shake. In the corner of his eyes, he could see the guards still outside of his room glaring at him and stroking the trigger of their guns.

  “I beg of you, I don’t know the answer to any of your questions. Please tell me, why am I being detained?”

  There was a glint of compassion in Malone’s eyes, but he didn’t want to let it show in case the man was as dangerous as Sykes had implied. “The fact of the matter is that you have been deemed a threat by the Council of the Order. Until we can reasonably assure them otherwise, you will continue to be considered so. Unfortunately for you I can’t very well convince them that you’re safe if I can’t get any answers from you.”

  “The Order? What’s that?”

  “We are,” the doctor smiled. “Every one of us. We are a group that believes all men have the right to live freely and by their own accord. A right that the Confederation, a rather nasty bunch, has taken away. Our goal is to be the force that brings the new order to the galaxy and overthrow those that would have us oppressed. They took control of all governments, leaving no road for freedom, and so now, we have to repave that road.”

  The subject was puzzled. “If the Confederation took control of all the governments, then how does the Order exist? Doesn’t that mean they control everything?”

  “They do. We came to be because of a mistake they made. We overthrew our commanding officers and are dedicating our lives and our resources to liberating everyone that we can, even if it means that we all get killed in the process.”

  “Admirable, but impossible I would imagine.”

  “Some would have us think that,” Malone said, “but we freed you from them, didn’t we? Aside from you, we have fifteen thousand new men and women that will help us in the fight. It was impossible for us to accomplish that much, but we did it, and it won’t be the last time we do it either.”

  Malone paused as he reflected on his own conviction, ensuring himself that he believed it as much as he would like to think he did. After which he took a more leisurely tone with his subject.

  “So what exactly are we going to call you? I can’t keep addressing you without having a name with which to do so, it’s just not normal.”

  “What would you call me?”

  Pondering the question for a moment, the doctor replied, “Well, it says on your profile that they pulled you out of a room with the words ‘Project Falcon’ printed on the door. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Should it?”

  “Not necessarily, but hope springs eternal. What if we were to call you Falcon? Would you have any objection to
that?”

  “I don’t suppose so.”

  “Fantastic, then Falcon it is, but you’ll need a first name as well. Is there any name you would prefer over another?”

  Falcon grinned slightly. “I don’t know why I would have an answer for that if I couldn’t answer anything else.”

  “Fair enough I suppose. I guess I’ll just call you Benjamin. It’s fairly common and it’s the first thing that comes to mind.”

  “So you would have me called Benjamin Falcon? I guess I could live with that.”

  “Now then,” Malone regained his focus, “there’s the little matter of figuring out just what to do with you. To be frank, the fact that you can’t recall anything doesn’t exactly set well with our predicament. I’m going to put you through a variety of tests, both physical and psychological, in an effort to make a comprehensive report to the Council. If everything looks clear, then we should be able to let you go, but all that’s out of my hands. All I can do is file the report. My best wishes to you Mister Benjamin Falcon, I’ll have my technicians in here shortly to begin your physical exam. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  Chapter Seven

  Several days passed since Doctor Malone spoke with Benjamin Falcon. He worked hard trying to finish the last few tweaks on his report. As far as he could tell, there was no legitimate reason to believe the man was a threat aside from the fact that he was found on a Confederate research colony. Even so, he knew he would have a harder time convincing Sykes.

  After a final read through of what he had written, Malone decided that the work was as good as it was going to get in such limited time.

  It was difficult for the man to force himself to trudge down the corridors of the MSS. He had an appointment with the head of the council, and shuddered to think what could happen to Benjamin if he were late. He would simply hate himself if the man’s fate were to take a turn for the worse because he didn’t keep his agreement with Sykes.

  The elevator ride lead from the observation tower up to the bridge. Just underneath which, Sykes’ personal office was located. His stomach turned as the structure sped along. He understood that during an attack, it would be a huge advantage to have the elevator run as fast as possible, but in his eyes, it wasn’t necessary during non-hostile situations.

  Finding his way to the office, he scanned his hand at a security reader on the right side of the door and made his entrance. Sitting in the chair at the desk wasn’t Sykes as he was expecting, but Councilman Grieves.

  Sensing that he took the man by surprise, Grieves said, “I’m sorry if I’ve startled you, doctor.”

  “Not at all,” Malone said. “I’m sorry; it’s just that I was expecting to speak to Sykes directly.”

  “You’ll have to forgive the councilman. I’m afraid he found himself a little too preoccupied to attend today, so I am here in his stead. Now what is it that you have to show me?”

  “Well, obviously we’re here to talk about Benjamin Falcon.”

  “Obviously. And am I to assume that you mean our surviving subject?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Benjamin Falcon? That’s a little unusual, isn’t it? Is that really his name?”

  “Not exactly, Sir. The problem arose when he was unable to provide his name. Falcon was the designation of the project under which he was developed. We collaborated for a minute and decided to call him by that.”

  Grieves was less than impressed. “He was unable to give you a name?”

  “Yes, Sir. As odd as it may sound, he doesn’t have any memory of what happened to him before he was wakened in our lab.” Grieves gave Malone an uncomfortable stare, so the doctor continued. “You see, councilman, from what we can see, Mr. Falcon has never been awake before. As close as we can tell, he was genetically grown, physically modified over the years, and was going to be awakened when they were ready to use him.”

  Grieves narrowed his eyes. “Use him? For what? That seems like a lot of work for another miner or soldier, doesn’t it?”

  “And it should, Sir. I can’t rightly claim to know what they were planning to use him for, but the man is an anomaly to be sure. In place of his stomach, he has a rather interesting system. They ripped out his stomach, liver, intestines, and all the other minor organs involved in digestion and replaced it with a rather powerful machine that performs several functions. First, it provides internal sensory equipment that is somewhat comparable to the displays that Confederate soldiers see inside their helmets. In his case however, the signal is sent directly to his brain when he activates it. Secondly, it more or less has the ability to trick his brain and modify his perception of things. For example, his legs may be tired from running, but the thing will prevent the signal from ever reaching his brain so that he can continue almost tirelessly. Normally your body won’t allow you to do any lifting that tears more than a relatively low percentage of your muscle tissue. In his body, he can rip almost all of it in short bursts, giving him apparent, albeit short-lived, super strength. As if all that wasn’t enough, it also serves as a processing plant for nanobots that inject directly into his blood stream when he is injured and can directly target any damaged area. In short, he can heal several times faster than you or I with almost no scarring involved.

  “The fact is, sir, this man’s body alone is incredible, thanks in large part to that device. The Confederacy had something big planned for him, because they didn’t stop there. The average person is plagued by emotion in almost any stressful situation, but he can turn it off like there was a switch in his head. His ability to rationalize and work things out is superior to even our best test subjects, and he has a fantastic ability to guess at what someone will do in any situation that we’ve thrown at him in the simulators. I’ve never seen anyone as capable as him, and I think he would make a tremendous asset to our team.”

  There was a pause between the two during which the only thing that was heard was Grieves heavy, raspy breathing. The aging man flipped through the documents a few more times scrutinizing every letter of every word. He let go of the file and it landed with a heavy thud on the desk.

  “I’m going to ask you plainly, Doctor Malone. If you were in my shoes, what would you do?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I would probably have him join our ranks. If he proved himself, I would have him promoted to the highest position we could put him in. I have to ask you to understand that he was clearly created as a weapon. Although we don’t know to what end, I believe we could convince him to fight on our side and stand a better chance at making a strong resistance against the Confederation. Besides, what else would we do with him?”

  “Kill him.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Sneering, Grieves spoke slowly, “You yourself said that he is a weapon, did you not? If I deem him to be a threat, then I can make no hesitation in disarming him, can I?”

  Malone was burning inside to make some sort of retort, but was terrified of what would happen if he did. Before he could speak, his thoughts were interrupted.

  “Well, let’s go see the ticking bomb then, shall we?”

  Grieves entered into the infirmary with Malone sharp on his heels. There was no chance of him confessing it to the doctor, but he did not intend to kill the man if he was, in fact, all that the doctor said he was. It was clear to the council before engaging in the assault on the research facility that there was a chance of finding modified soldiers, and that they could likely use whatever modifications they found to aid their own men in the long run. After all, they were at war and they were in it to win. As things stood, the odds were slim to none, so any advantage they could possibly find should be utilized.

  Before he entered into the room where the subject was, he decided he had better arm himself, despite the fact that the man had been deemed to be a low risk.

  Malone looked at him urgently. “Sir, I hardly think that’s necessary.”

  With a grunt, Grieves replied, “Unless you intend on taking full liabilities for my
welfare from here on out, I would appreciate it if I were allowed to take action based on what I think. Are we clear?”

  Malone stood back reluctantly, not wishing to instigate things further. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Councilman’s judgment, rather he preferred not to startle Benjamin. The man seemed to him to be much more like a child emotionally, despite how well he performed intellectually. While the man certainly had the ability to shut off his emotions, the results were less than comforting during the tests they ran. It was as though his instinct and reason took over entirely. Although this didn’t prove to be anything of particular significance before, when confronted with a weapon, there was no way to tell how he would respond. At least when guards had their guns trained on him through the glass, the man could comfort himself with the fact that they couldn’t possibly kill him through the impenetrable walls of his cage.

  When the councilman entered the room, he was greeted with a surprisingly pleasant tone. “I assume you’re Councilman Sykes?”

  Grieves smiled and looked to the floor. “Not exactly. My name is Thomas Grieves. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

  “Yes, sir. At least a little.”

  “I trust all good things?”

  “Mostly. They say that you are a brilliant man and a capable leader, but you are somewhat lacking in personal skills.”

  “Well then I guess that makes two of us,” Grieves responded. “What are your intentions here?”

  “I can’t say I have any. I wasn’t exactly voluntarily retrieved, but if I had to answer, I should say I would like some time to discover myself; find out who I am.”

  “You mean to say you have no interest in serving in our military? You have no desire to strike against those that took your life from you, and made it impossible for you to remember anything? I want you to understand that you were grown like wheat in a field. I want you to understand that the only thing they were ever going to use you for, was a machine. A tireless one at that, always doing their dirty work. You are already well into your life, and you have nothing to show for it. No memories, no family, nothing. You don’t have a life and they weren’t going to give you one because, to them, you were no different than a drill. You were just a tool; a piece of machinery. Is there nothing inside of you that wants to get back at them for that?”