Cyborg 01 - Cyborg

by Martin Caidin

  “All right,” Goldman nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “And if what Dr. Wells says is true, and I believe it is,” Jean said, “arrange for Kathy to be with him when it happens.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “Wherever did you dig her up?” Major Marv Throneberry leaned far to the side of his chair, following as long as possible the departing view of Kathy Morris.

  “Will you simmer down, Marv?”

  “Okay, okay.” Throneberry held out his hands, palms facing Steve. “I’ll behave.” The smile faded from his face and he studied the other man. “Time to be serious?”

  “Time,” Steve nodded.

  Throneberry went to the door and closed it. He came back slowly, eased into the swivel chair behind his desk, went through elaborate motions of slicing the end from a cigar and lit up. He pointed the cigar at Steve. “Um, lots of questions.”

  Steve nodded again. He and Marv Throneberry had flown together when they were lieutenants. Marv was now the training officer for a squadron of F-4C fighters at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base on the outskirts of Tucson, Arizona. He was physically a very big man, and in the cockpit he was a very good pilot.

  Under the effective urging of the Office of Special Operations in Washington, the Air Force had cut temporary duty orders for Colonel Steve Austin, USAF, to report to the 433rd Fighter Squadron for “refresher training” in the big Phantom II fighters. There had been a brief phone call to Steve at the laboratories in Colorado, clearing Throneberry with him. And before his arrival, Throneberry also had received a telephone call, from the director of training for the whole Air Force. “Give Colonel Austin whatever he wants, answer no questions from anyone, Major, and keep everybody off the colonel’s back.” Throneberry had looked at the telephone in his hand as if it might turn into a snake. He said “Yessir,” into the phone and hung it up slowly and carefully. And now Steve was here in the room with him. He showed up with a ravishing beauty for company, and sent her packing to arrange for motel rooms and rental cars, and Marv Throneberry was beside himself to find out just what the hell was going on.

  “The official word was that you got tore up pretty good at Edwards,” he said carefully.

  Steve smiled. “That’s close,” he acknowledged.

  “After which you disappeared. Helen and I tried to find out what happened, Steve. We heard Doc Wells was on the case.”

  “He still is.”

  “How is the old boy?”

  “Big beard, big belly. Great as ever.”

  “How,” Marv said cautiously, “is his patient?”

  “Been a long time since I was in the air.”

  “Uh huh.” Throneberry opened a folder on his desk, waved some papers at Steve. “Your orders in here. My orders too. One of which says you are not, repeat, not to be given a flight physical. Which is sort of crazy, know what I mean?”

  Steve tapped his fingers against the attaché case he had brought with him. “The physical is in here. Given personally by Doc Wells.”

  Throneberry nodded. “My orders also say all your flight gear is to be kept with mine. During your stay, no other person, including the commanding general or the flight surgeon or the flight safety officer, is to be permitted access to that room. They’ve got their orders too. They’re on my back wanting to know what gives.”

  “Did you tell them?”

  “Tell them what?” Throneberry showed his exasperation. “All I know is what these papers say. That,” his eyes narrowed, “and that you’re going to tell an old friend, strictly off the record, you understand, what the hell goes on here.”

  Steve walked to the window, looked out at four fighters cracking skyward in tight formation. It had been a long time since he’d done that.

  “Okay, Marv. But you can’t tell anyone.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Not even Helen.”

  “That bad?”

  “You could say so.”

  “The grapevine said you would never fly again, Steve.”

  He nodded.

  “They also said,” Throneberry continued, “you wouldn’t even walk. A lot of people said you were . . .” He couldn’t go on, hoping Steve would help.

  “A basket case?”

  “Yeah, but you sure don’t look like it.”

  “They were almost right, Marv.” Steve turned to face him. “Want it all?”

  “I don’t really know, Steve. But I guess I should know.”

  “I guess you should. You’re the one who’s going to turn me loose up there.”

  Throneberry waited.

  “I lost a couple of things in the desert, Marv. My left arm, for starters.”

  The pilot stared at him.

  “Both legs.”

  “Steve—”

  “I’m blind in my left eye.”

  Throneberry was chalk white. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Broken jaw, fractured skull, ribs caved in, heart valve torn up. Some other things, but that’ll do.”

  “Man, are you really standing there in front of me?”

  Steve laughed. “You better believe it.”

  “But . . . I don’t understand, Steve. Really, I—”

  “I’m the first of a new breed, Marv. They’re rebuilding me. It’s called bionics. I’m half man and half machine, old buddy.”

  Throneberry took that in silence. He stared at the wall, then turned slowly to Steve. “Can you fly?”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  “I can’t even figure out how you can walk!”

  Steve walked to the desk, rested his hands on the top, looked directly at the other pilot. “Listen to me, Marv. I don’t want to have to repeat this, so I hope the first time sinks in. I can walk, run, climb, swim, and fight better than any man you’ve ever known in your life. I’m also going to prove I can still fly your ass off upstairs. Now, how about the first thing tomorrow morning? Say, oh six hundred?”

  “I’m numb.”

  “You’ll get over it.”

  Throneberry gestured helplessly. “The girl . . . what’s her name?”

  “Kathy.”

  “Does she know?”

  “She knows. She’s part of the project. That’s why she’s here. Official observer. She’ll take notes, that sort of thing.”

  “Nothing else, Steve?”

  “Knock it off, Marv.” The tone had changed, was cold.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “What do you want to do first?”

  “Flight manual tonight. I want to study it from beginning to end. Catch up on things.”

  Throneberry nodded, grateful to concentrate on business. “You’ve got some time in the F-4, don’t you?”

  “About twelve hundred hours. But it’s been a long time.”

  “Okay. I’ll get the manual. What next?”

  “Cockpit check at six sharp. I’ll have breakfast before I get here.” He hesitated. “Kathy will be with me.”

  “Six sharp,” Throneberry confirmed. “Want to have dinner with us tonight?”

  “No. I . . . I don’t think I could hack that, Marv.”

  His friend nodded. “Anything else, Steve?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to check out my flight gear now.”

  “Right now?”

  “Birds gotta fly, Marv.”

  The sun lanced in from just above the mountains, casting strong, black shadows across the flight line. Throneberry lowered his visor, saw Steve doing the same. “Ready to start,” came his voice from the front cockpit of the big fighter. “Go, baby,” Throneberry told him. He had the feeling he was along just for the ride. Steve went through the procedures mechanically, smoothly. He brought the two powerful engines to life, checked out all the systems, signaled for the chocks to be pulled by the ground crew. The tower cleared them to taxi, and as they eased away from the flight line with a muffled boom of thunder, Throneberry looked to his left. Kathy Morris stood there watching. Steve didn’t even glance her way. He rolled the plane exp
ertly to the end of the taxiway, ran her through her checks, switched to tower frequency. “Cobalt Six ready to go,” he called. “Roger, Cobalt Six. Taxi into position and hold.”

  Steve booted her out to the runway, swung the nose around, and locked the brakes. Clearance came a few moments later. Steve eased the throttles forward. Marv Throneberry’s fingers itched to grasp the stick but he held back as thunder boomed behind them.

  “Marv,” Steve’s voice came through his helmet, “you still think I can fly?”

  “Let’s find out, old buddy.”

  He heard Steve laugh for the first time since he arrived. “Okay, let’s see if this bear still has it.” The brakes came off and Steve pushed the throttles into full afterburner. The sudden explosion of power kicked her free and the Phantom bellowed and rushed forward. Three thousand feet did it, and the nose wheel came up, and then she was off the runway and into the air. Steve hit the gear and it banged solidly into place with the doors slapping tight with them. The nose came higher as Steve let her run, the power throwing them steeply into the sky. A wing rocked sharply and Throneberry almost grabbed the stick. Instead, he kept his hands in his lap and spoke quietly. “You’re fighting her, Steve. Ease off the pressure. She’ll behave.”

  He breathed easier when the motions slowed down. Steve was feeling her out. Departure control cleared them to angles forty over the bombing range and the sky was all theirs. Steve leveled her off, played with her for a while, and little by little, becoming as one with the machine, forgetting he was strapped into a cockpit, he started to wear the airplane. The master’s touch was there and he pointed the nose up, away from the sun, and rolled her viciously until the speed fell off, and he brought her up and over on her back, a mighty, soaring loop through the sky. Coming over on top, he was barely over stall, but he made her hang and he played power and gravity as though they were strings on the end of his fingers, tickling the brute forces out there as she fell through, the nose coming down just where he wanted it, the power easing off. It was with real regret that Marv Throneberry, who hadn’t once touched the controls, finally had to remind Steve that the fuel warning light was on and it was time to go home.

  “It’s time to land,” Steve told him. “I’m home now.” And Marv couldn’t argue with him because it was all very true. And he wasn’t surprised when they taxied back to the flight line and he saw the girl standing there, waiting for them, as if she hadn’t moved at all the whole time they were gone, and somehow he believed that to be true. He raised his visor as Steve parked the Phantom, and he looked at the girl again, and was sure he saw tears on her face.

  She locked the door behind her. Steve turned in surprise as Kathy gestured toward the magnum of champagne in an ice bucket on the dresser.

  “There’s no question any more, is there?”

  He thought of the sky and the fighter beneath his fingertips. “No.”

  “Then champagne is in order.”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “I watched you today, Steve. I know.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I watched a man come back to himself. Back where he belonged.”

  “I’ll open the champagne.”

  He had his back to her, opening the bottle. He filled the two glasses on the dresser. He heard her voice behind him.

  “Steve.”

  “Right there.” He turned, holding a glass in each hand.

  “I want you to make love to me, Steve. Now.”

  He stared at her. “Kathy, I—”

  “For God’s sake, shut up.”

  Before he knew what was happening they were together, and she was crying.

  It had been a long time, but he was really home now.

  They stayed at Davis-Monthan three more days and then it was time to return to Colorado. Kathy talked him into canceling their airline tickets and renting a car. It would be a beautiful drive back through the desert and the mountains.

  At dusk they were looking for a motel. Traffic moved slowly ahead of them, winding carefully down a narrow mountain road, following a yellow schoolbus filled with children returning from a picnic. They were three cars behind the bus, and when it happened it came in agonizing slow motion. It sounded like a mild pop when the front right tire of the bus gave out. For a moment it seemed as if the driver would be able to hold the suddenly careening vehicle. It swerved right, then wildly to the left, but there was oncoming traffic and the driver had no choice but to pull again to the right. There he lost control, the front right wheel edging along slippery gravel, and the bus tilted. They could hear the thin screams from the open windows as the front end slid, dragging everything with it, and then it was rolling over, crashing through the brush along the steep slope, sliding and banging before it came to a stop against a tree. They were holding their breath, Steve slamming on the brakes of their car, when the flash soared out from the trees and they heard the dull, booming sound of the fuel tank igniting.

  Steve slammed to a stop and in almost the same motion was out of the car and hurling himself down the slope, being able to see by the licking flames, urged on by the cries of screaming children. They had the emergency doors open, and shrieking children, cut and bloody, were struggling out and up the hill. But there were others pinned inside, tormented by the spreading flames, and Steve dimly remembered kicking in a window as the screams grew more shrill. The wreckage had folded over; metal trapped the children inside, and he went crazy as he pulled and tore at metal, hurling it aside, grabbing at bodies either limp or writhing in pain. He passed children through the shattered window, other hands grasped them, took them away from the flames, and then they were all out.

  There came one last cry and he went back-into the wreckage, pulling at seats, feeling metal grate against him. The flames reached at him but he found more metal and he was using his left arm as a club, flailing away at the imprisoning seat; metal gave, he wrenched it clear, jerked the child free and stumbled through the smoke. They were safe, the child in his arms. He looked down at the little girl, placed her on her feet, and watched as her eyes widened, her hand pointed, and she screamed.

  He looked to where she was pointing and saw a ghastly skeleton of metal and wires showing where the plastiskin had ripped free. The child’s screams went on, driving into his brain, and as others approached, he turned and ran up the slope, his legs pistoning him along, gouging clumps of dirt and rocks free as he made the road. He rushed to the car, where Kathy waited. She moved impulsively to his side when she saw him holding the arm close to his body, covering it with the other. “You drive,” he said, climbing into the right front seat.

  “What . . . what happened? Are you all right?” Words she couldn’t hold back.

  “Just drive, dammit!” he shouted.

  He refused to let her stop at a motel, demanding she drive all the way through, stopping only for gas. He had a jacket over him now, hiding the arm. He told her what had happened, how the child had screamed, the look of horror on her face when she saw what she thought was a living skeleton. And then he sat cold and silent, a monster in his own mind, running from the shrieking, frightened youngster.

  “All right, Steve, even my patience has run out. I’m not even going to talk about Kathy. You once had a girl who couldn’t take what happened to you and she blew town. Now you’ve got a girl who’s in love with you and you’re so damned wrapped up in misery and self-pity you can’t recognize the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you.” Wells gestured angrily to cut off the shouted interruption he knew was coming. “I’m not through, goddammit,” he said through clenched teeth. “Kathy is your business, not mine. What I care about is the project, and that means I care about you. But I’ve had it, right up to here.” He drew his finger across his forehead. “That far. Okay, Colonel. You’re quitting? Well, so the hell am I.”

  Steve was shocked at the outburst from a man who’d been transformed into a total stranger. The stranger wasn’t quite through, as he discovered. “You can walk out
of here any time you want to,” Wells said, now more in control of himself. “I’m through killing my own life because of you. There are plenty of veterans’ hospitals that can take care of you. They can fit you out with the best prosthetics limbs made anywhere in the world. You’ve seen them on other men. You can wear them like anyone else. And it’ll be exactly what you want, right? You’ll be free of this whole rotten place you’ve been complaining about. You won’t be tied down to us any more; you won’t be a freak, a Frankenstein. You’ll be just another guy fate crapped on who has to make his way the best he can. There’ll be thousands like you, Steve. No more miracles. No more special case. You can lose yourself in the army of legless and armless men.

  “We can’t work with you like this, not knowing from one day to the next whether you’re going to wake up spitting mad and refusing to cooperate, or whatever. It’s impossible. This project needs more than your body. It needs your absolute cooperation, your willingness, your drive, to make it all work.”

  He turned and faced away from his friend. “You can pick the rehabilitation center you want. Anywhere in the country. You won’t be able to retain the bionics limbs but that doesn’t matter since you hate them so much. So it’s finis. You will, however, get the best that medical science provides to our combat veterans. And I guess that what’s good enough for a man who’s won the Medal of Honor should do for you.”

  A long silence followed. Wells pushed himself into the chair behind his desk.

  Finally Steve spoke through the office gloom. “You through?”

  “No,” Wells said wearily. “But what’s the use? You’ve made up your mind. Besides, if I kept talking I might hurt your feelings. Well, I wouldn’t want to do that. At least you’ll make Jackie a happy woman again. I haven’t been a husband to her for months.”

  “Spill the rest of it.”

  “Don’t tell me what the hell to do, Colonel. That’s behind us now.”

  “I’d still . . . I still want to hear the rest of it.”

  “Why? Let it drop. It’s all over.”

  “I’ve never heard you like this, Rudy.”

  “You never will again. All right, you really want to hear it?”