The Intruder Mandate: The Farthest Star from Home: a military sci-fi suspense novel

by William Cray

  Duran stepped back from the flames. He could feel nothing. The Intruder had slipped out.

  He looked around through the flames at the carnage. He glanced over at the remains of the people along his gun line as he had shredded the bodybomber. The back spray of the corrosive chemical mixture had eaten parts of their flesh and caused terrible chemical burns on their exposed arms and legs. He checked each of them for signs of life, but he knew the answer. There was nothing he could have done to save them. They were gone. What happened to them was inevitable. They were dead either way if the bomb had detonated. They had just come out to have a good time.

  Duran scooped his discarded magazine off the floor, snapping it back into the recessed shoulder holster under his redcoat. Before darting out he searched the bodies around him for any other weapons or materials he could scrounge as the fire licked at his feet and began to consume the club. He picked up the flechette gun wielded by the security guard, then tossed it into the fire as junk.

  That piece of shit gun almost killed me, he thought.

  Duran collected himself to find a way out of the fire, out of the club. The Intruder had evaded him, but he was going to kill Celeste.

  18

  Radiation Exclusion Zone

  Habitation Dome 11

  Duran made quick work of Celeste's apartment door lock, thrusting the heavy door open as the mechanism disengaged. The sudden wisp of air from the overpressure system filled his nostrils with the flowery scent of Celeste's home as he barged in. The lights were down and Duran moved like an invader, relying on speed to avoid any additional entrapments Celeste may have in waiting. He stretched out for her with his mind, searching for a sign of her presence. The only sound in the apartment was the gentle ambient music she left playing when they left. The walls in the main room shifted pastel colors every few moments even in the darkness. The balcony blinds remained closed and the doors pulled to. Nothing appeared disturbed.

  Duran lowered the gun after clearing the rooms; losing the focus that had driven him through the pain racking his body. He tensed briefly as emergency vehicles traversed the streets nearby.

  Duran lowered the lights, and peered through the heavy blinds, watching the column of vehicles pass. The only people still at the club were fools and the unfortunate.

  He hadn’t known what to expect when he arrived here, but it was time to deal with Celeste one way or the other.

  She had set him up by clouding his mind. She had delivered him to the Intruder, unbalanced and distracted. Innocent people had died as a result. The blood was on her hands. Celeste was responsible for the innocents. It was time to settle matters.

  Duran cleared all the remaining rooms in the apartment, slower this time, starting with the wing of converted rooms he had ignored earlier, Duran found stairs leading to other levels of the living space she claimed. Each room unmasked another aspect of Celeste. One room was set up as an erotic playpen, which Duran bypassed, not wanting to dwell on the strange devices and contraptions she used in her performances.

  Performances.

  She was a capable role player, sensing what men wanted and sleeveing the role into her body, becoming what any man would desire. Another room was a gathering of little playthings and trinkets. There was a collection in another room that was arranged in a kind of childish altar. From the pictures and gifts, it was obvious that she adored the affection, but he wasn’t sure if she could return it.

  He finished his sweep. The apartment was empty so he made his way back to Celeste's candlelit room, which still flickered in the dark.

  Walking into the washroom, Duran striped off his torn shirt, examining his fresh wounds. His nanites hadn’t started repairing the cuts and scraps of the fight. His medical interface indicated that they were focused on the more serious shock damage to his ribs and legs, repairing broken blood vessels and stressed ligaments. Duran looked at his left hand, swollen and purple with damage. After using it as a cudgel against his assailants, it was almost useless,. Flesh and blood was still etched into his fingernails. He had ripped a man’s throat out, and still he fought on, air escaping in a bubbling whistle. The man had looked at Duran as his life ebbed away.

  A wave of weakness flooded him. He wouldn’t last much longer, cut off from the biomolecular gel packs that maintained his body. Already he could sense that the tiny machines within him were stripping reserves to repair the damage, He hadn’t slept in three days as each attempt brought terror and suffering to his dreams. He was in dire need of rest or a massive infusion of drugs and nanites, neither of which was going to come easy. He had been to this point before, and had always fought through the pain, but this time was different.

  He dug around Celeste's cabinet for some distafs then applied the mist to the scratched and cut areas. An out of date children’s packet of skinseal was also inside, which he molded and rubbed into his arms and face to speed the healing process and keep the wounds clean. He could do nothing for his hand, ribs or his ankle for that matter.

  When he was finished he walked back into Celeste's bedroom, making his way over to the picture of Celeste's birth parents. He examined the picture again, seeing the similarity in her features. Duran leaned over to return the picture to the table, grunting a little from sore ribs and shallow breaths. Duran went back over to his coat, pulling his last gel pack from the inside pocket. He tore it open with his teeth then applied it to the base of his sore neck where overtasked nanties would rush up to the receiving point and convert it, putting the molecular building blocks to best use in repairing his body.

  Duran sat down on the edge of Celeste's soft bed, checking subconsciously that the back of his pants wouldn’t soil the sheets. He tried to focus on his next step. The Talon jabbed his ribcage every time he turned or twisted. He took it out of its holster and sat it on the bed next to him.

  He leaned back, trying to breathe slowly, letting the cool air into his lungs.

  Open you mind to me …

  Duran rose up, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs as he felt for the pistol next to him, which was gone. Disoriented, he started to roll away, until his eyes focused in the candle lit image of Celeste standing in front of him. He started to rise up, curling to spring, but Celeste stopped him by placing her hand on his chest. Her touch was warm and calming, and it stole the fight from him without struggle.

  “Don’t get up … I don’t mean to wake you.” She said. Duran scanned the bed for the missing gun again.

  Celeste responded, “It’s over here… “ She pointed to an end table where the gun sat, near the edge. “I moved it. You looked like you were having a bad dream.”

  Celeste's demeanor disarmed Duran and his urgent heart rate slowed. The panic subsided from her touch. Moments ago he was ready to put a bullet in her brain. Now he couldn’t raise a hand.

  “Where were you?” Duran asked.

  “I had some things I had to do.” She said. “Are you alright?” She sat down next to him, taking his arm and peeling back the sealant. She watched, fascinated as the flesh was reconstructed and spliced together by the microscopic machines, leaving behind tiny red scratches in places where open wounds and bloody gashes had been just hours before.

  Celeste looked back at him. “I'm sorry if I said something to offend you. I didn’t know that you were…modified.” Duran tried to get up but again she stopped him.

  Duran looked at her, “How could you not know?”

  “You are a complicated person. Rest.” She said. “You survived the night.”

  Duran groaned, releasing the tension knotted up along his back. “The night isn’t over yet.”

  She smiled back at him. “You're right, it's not.”

  Duran stirred, trying to shrug her off. “You set me up,” he said. “You tried to get in my head.”

  “I did what you asked. Besides, I was high.”

  “You lied to me. You’ve been lying from the beginning.”

  “We’ve lied to each other.” She said. “Let’s leav
e it at that.”

  Celeste coaxed Duran to the bed, pealing his boots open and pulling them off. Duran hesitated but he was unable to resist her attempts to make him comfortable. She guided him up, on the bed, still on top of the soft sheets that wrinkled around him. Celeste lay next to him, still dressed in the shadow dress that cloaked little detail of her body. She was close to him, but she maintained a distance that only electrified her nearness. She lay on her side, looking at him.

  Duran became less comfortable from her subtle scrutiny. Was she the enemy? Would she still help him or was this another attempt to deliver him unarmed and vulnerable to the Intruder? What could he do to prevent the awful end that was coming for her? “Where is Kari?” Duran questioned.

  “I sent her away.” Celeste said, “I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got here.”

  Duran looked at her, staring into the open blue eyes looking back at him. “I wasn’t either.”

  “It isn’t too late for you Rory, you can still leave. You can’t stop him now. He's so much stronger than you can image.” Celeste said.

  “I can't leave, Celeste. If I can prevent what happened on Earth, I’ll do whatever it takes, sell my life if necessary.” Duran said, averting her gaze by looking to the soft canopy above him. She rolled her eyes.

  “It's not necessary for you to die. It never has been.”

  “It's not my nature, not my choice.” Duran said, looking up to the ceiling. “I won’t pass my responsibility to someone else.”

  “Then you’ll die here. He will kill you, or just use you.”

  Duran nodded. “Then that’s my responsibility.”

  “What about your responsibility to me? Will you carry it out, or pass it to someone else, a stranger who will come for me?” Celeste asked.

  Duran didn’t answer, he returned her stare until he couldn’t any longer, finally looking away. Once again he started to get up, not being able to answer. Celeste stopped him with her touch as he groaned, but he forced himself up to his elbows.

  “Rest,” she said, “you can die tomorrow.”

  “What will happen if I leave?”

  Now it was Celeste that looked away, staring into the flickering candles. “His vision” she said.

  “What is his vision?” Celeste looked down then back at Duran before looking away again.

  “He wants to unleash the true potential meant for his people. He wants to awaken God on Mars.”

  Duran turned back to Celeste, “Look around you Celeste. This is one of the places God takes a shit. He’s crazy. Besides his people are fried. I saw what happened to them. That was God, if there is one. The Emperor wields that power. He’s the last one.”

  “He had to do terrible things to gain his power. Horrible things. It was the only way. But he’s not ready yet,” Celeste continued. Duran could see a small tear forming on Celeste's cheek. It ran down her face, across the sanctuary symbol which changed colors as the tear passed.

  Duran watched the sadness come over her face as she struggled for words. Finally he asked,” What is he waiting for?”

  “He's building something. I don’t know what or where, but when it is ready he will call me.”

  “Why you?”

  “He needs me. Because I’m more like him than anyone left alive. He says I will be the Eve that brings his race back from the dead.”

  Duran looked at her. “He knows the Emperor or even the Commonwealth won't let that happen, ever. You will be hunted down.”

  Celeste used her hand to dry her eyes. She looked so childlike wiping away those tears. Her voice toughened up a bit, “He doesn’t need the planet. I don’t think he's planning on staying.”

  Duran looked over at the picture of her parents. She said she didn’t know them. To her, they were strangers. But she still maintained a connection to them, if only through an image. She had said she was always different.

  Despite her protests, Duran got up, taking the picture, then going over to his coat and pulling out his Percom. He thought for a moment, then punched Lieutenant Floss's code, hoping they couldn’t track a call routed through multiple clones and networks.

  Floss answered on the first chime. It sounded like there was activity behind him. “Agent Duran, where are you?” Floss said.

  “No time right now Floss. I know things look bad, but I need you to run something down for me.” Duran said.

  “Hold on Duran…You know NMCPD is looking for you regarding a shooting and a fire in the Zone at a maxhouse tonight.”

  Duran nodded, “I know. It was a bad scene.” He pulled the picture up to the viewer. “Can you run down these two people in your database. I need their ID and last known whereabouts.” Duran watched the viewer as Floss hit a switch and the picture was downloaded into facial recognition packages. “I got it, hang on.” He punched a few more buttons as Duran waited.

  Celeste sat upright, her legs tucked under her on the bed behind Duran. “What do my parents have to do with this?”

  Duran put his finger up to his lips indicating for her to be quiet.

  Floss took another few minutes then responded. “All I have is their names, but why should I give you anything? You have done nothing but create chaos since you’ve showed up. Local M.C.E. has never heard of you Rory, if that’s even your real name.”

  “Listen Floss, I know you are trying to zero this call but you will find a dead circuit at the end of the line. This is important or I wouldn’t be contacting you. Have you checked on the medical status of those two NMCPD officers this morning?

  “They are still comatose.”

  “Call your coroner, Dr. Janokowlis wasn’t it?” It seemed so long ago that he had been in the morgue closing the eyes of his dead friend, “Tell her to examine them and look for Transitory I. R. H.”

  “I.R.H?” Floss asked.

  “She’ll know. That will answer a lot of questions.” Duran responded.

  “Ok. I will. Where can I meet you to give you this information?”

  Duran shook his head. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, I can’t come in and you will understand why when you talk to the Doctor.”

  “All, right. But you know I’ve got to report this contact to the Commissioner. He’s hot for your blood right now.”

  “Do what you have to do James, but talk to the doctor.”

  Floss nodded. “Jon Caralon and Edie Caralon. The only file I can locate them on is an immigration application twenty seven years ago.”

  “Immigrating from where?”

  “Kearsage. Their last address was listed in the corporate housing of a Biomerge Engineering, Cannis Holdings.” Floss said.

  An Imperial company with a military biological weapons background. Duran hesitated, “Anything else?”

  “No. Sorry. What is this all about?”

  Duran shook his head, “Sorry Lieutenant, no time right now.”

  Floss gave a concerned look. “Rory, you need to come in and explain. This is getting out of control.”

  Duran just shook his head. “I'll handle it. Thanks Lieutenant.” He closed down the link. A moment later, he referenced another number and hit the sequencer. Colonel Cochrane's assistant told him to wait a moment while she located the Colonel, finally tracking him in the operations center.

  “I have been waiting to hear from you Rory, did you get my message?”

  “No sir, I haven’t.”

  “Rory, this could be very important. Check my message, then contact me via secure coms.” Duran looked down at his percom. There was a message he had missed in the commotion of the night.

  “OK sir, but first, can you do something for me?”

  “Whatever you need.”

  Duran put the picture of Celeste's natural parents in front of the tiny Percom imager. “I need your help identifying these two people. Their names are Jon and Edie Caralon, but I don’t know if these are their real names. Their last address indicated they were …”

  A surprised look crossed Cochrane's face, cutting Duran off. “Rory�
� you don’t recognize these people?”

  Duran stopped. “No … should I?”

  Cochrane looked on astonished. “They were the two civilian specialists attached to your team the day you went into the bunker on the Intruder moon.” Duran stared at Cochrane then turned to Celeste who looked on in shock.

  Cochrane continued. “They were lost in the bunker with the other three members of your team. I never found out what happened to them. Where did you get that photo?”

  Duran recovered as Celeste looked over his shoulder from behind. “Can you find out their background? They must have been part of a military program.”

  “I’ll check but we can't continue this conversation on an unsecured line.”

  Duran nodded. “I'll give you some time, then I’ll call back but I’m broadcasting in the red now, non-secure. How much do you need?”

  “Give me about two hours … and Rory, check that message I left you.” Cochrane warned.

  Duran nodded. “Right, two hours.” The line disconnected.

  Duran turned back to Celeste, finding no words of comfort. She seemed impassive, but she stared at him. Finally she said, “You knew my parents.”

  “Apparently, but I don’t remember anything about them. I don’t remember much about that day… I can’t recall anything with any clarity, only visions, flashes that erupt in my dreams. I can’t tell you more. I don’t remember them.”

  Celeste came closer to him. “You will remember. I can help you remember them.”

  Duran shook his head. “There isn't time.”

  Celeste took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. “Don’t be afraid. Time is all we have left Rory. All you have to do is open you mind to me.”

  Duran looked at her, wondering. “That is in my dream.”

  “Do you want to know what happened?” She said. “I can show you.” Duran felt the tingling as Celeste gently applied her gift, entering the surface of Duran's mind.

  Duran resisted by raising his own defenses, stanching the flowing tendrils entering his mind. The barriers erected around his consciousness slowly, but he couldn’t resist Celeste leading him to her bed.