Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

  “Show some respect,” Mason spat, prodding me with an electric volt to the abdomen. The shock doubled me over. I didn’t know what he was playing at, so I did a little adlibbing, clutching my midsection and howling, as if the blast had been even worse.

  “I like this one,” Bishop noted. “Soldier, come with us. Talmage, grab two others. Let’s make our way to the lab.”

  6

  My five-man escort led me through the vast warehouse toward the largest modular building. Along the opposite side, there were more – bunkhouses, a cafeteria, a couple I couldn’t discern their use – but that was it. The rest was open space, bisected by a pair of tracks, just like Mace had said. At either end of the tracks, were humongous bay doors. I should have blasted my way in through one of them, instead.

  As they took me through the outer lab doors, I casually said, “So, what’s this procedure? I’ve already had all my shots and vaccinations.”

  “Shut it,” Talmage snarled, and motioned for his soldiers to give me another jolt.

  “No, no, I’m shuttin’ it.” Then through sealed lips, I said, “See?”

  “You two stay put. Play sentinel. Do not allow anyone in or out until the boss arrives, got that?” They both nodded. To Mason, he added, “You’re with us.”

  Mason fell in line, and the doors whooshed shut, sealing us inside the lab. The room we were in was ringed with monitor banks and various workstations. Some standards were present, such as microscopes, x-ray machines, CT, etcetera. It was all very sterile, very white.

  “Uh, guys, if you kill me in here, you’ll never get the walls that bright again.”

  They ignored me. Can’t necessarily blame them. Instead, Talmage held his hand up to Mason. “Stay put. We’ll be back. Are you certain you’ll be fine with him?”

  “If he moves, I’ll deal with him,” Mason assured them, then to instill confidence, he knocked me upside the head with his power baton.

  Bishop nodded. “Initiative becomes you, sir.”

  The weasels smiled their smug smiles, and passed through the doors to the main lab. Before they closed, I got little in the way of a clue to what lay beyond.

  After they were gone, Mace said, “Sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “S’ok. Got us in the lab. Anything on Mao? Caduceus?” He shook his head. “So you know: I plan on dismantling this place till I find both of them, but you don’t have to help me, Mace. It’ll be dangerous, and I’ve got a little advantage.”

  “Oh, no, I’m helping. My friends … good soldiers … dying so those monsters can do whatever God-cursed experiments they’ve … they’ve …” He shudders.

  “Mace, man, they’ll be back soon. Gotta give me something I can use here. I know they’ve got those jump bombs. Don’t hurt, but sure took me down in a hurry. What else?”

  “Well, you’ve seen the Warrior Tech we’re wearing. Artificially boosts strength, endurance, the senses, to a place humans won’t reach for another hundred years.”

  “But there’s gotta be some way to take them out, right?”

  “The neckpieces. They’re a little weaker, to facilitate mobility. But Kade, if you go for the neck in battle, you’ll wind up killing the wearer.”

  “Yeah, so? To stop VP’s evil, I’d …”

  “But these men aren’t evil! They’re Americans, like you and me.”

  I place my hand on his shoulder. He’s right. “It’s okay, we’ll figure something out. You ready? Our time is almost up.” Mace nods, as a squelch of static breaks in over a speaker imbedded in the wall to our right.

  Suddenly, Bishop’s voice fills the air. “How astute. Your time has been up for a while, now – since my lapdog’s little whistle-blowing letter to you, actually. Seriously, did you think we were smart enough to pull off an operation like this, but not intelligent enough to scan all correspondence leaving our secret operations center?

  “Now, let’s see how you both do, faced with a little Angel Slayer.” There’s another whoosh as an amorphous cloud swirls its way into the room through vents, posted along the base of the lab’s doors. For a moment, it hangs like a fog above the floor, collecting itself. Then, the black fog inches its way toward us.

  Mason is on the move, shielding me from the threat, slashing away at it with his energy baton. “Back!”

  I pull up beside him and start blasting, despite his warning. “Nanites,” I ask.

  “But with a twist. These are carriers of the red pearl. Some red stone – one of a kind – said to have special properties. Magic properties. Whatever. What it is, though, is some sort of intense fuel source – To your right! – We process them in another building. Oyster farm. We’ve synthesized the process, sped it up.” He paused to replace a glowing power cell, before continuing. “Force the oysters to transform dust – irritants – sanded from the red rock. The end result is pearls that look a little like cat’s-eye marbles, with these red swirls at their center.”

  We kept blasting at the cloud, but every swath we cut only made way for the next wave. At my side, I heard my friend take in a pained hiss of air. When I looked over, I didn’t much care for what I saw. The buggers had overcome Mace. His legs, up to his waist, were coated black. “Buddy!” They were pulling him down to the floor. If they were on the outside of his suit, I was pretty sure they were on the inside.

  Mason was struggling to get any air, yet he kept feeding me gasped bits of information. “Not just fuel – ARRR – Alters a man’s – GGH – a man’s mind. His will!”

  Before he could scream again, I thought to try the one thing I should’ve done from the get-go. I flash fry the entire room, the bugs, the computers, and Mace’s gear. Unfortunately, it knocked Mace out cold, along with it.

  The outside doors slid open, and the two guards posted outside rushed in, batons raised. I didn’t give them the opportunity to have any fun, quickly ending their threat, before they had a chance to call for backup.

  From the intercom, Bishop’s voice again: “Smooth moves, Truth. Now, see if you can handle what’s behind door number two.” The inner doors swooshed open, inviting me deeper into the bowels of the laboratory.

  7

  “Oh, okay. Of course, I’ll go through those doors into the mysterious mad scientist lab.”

  “No worries, then. Stay put.” How I loathed his voice. Even through the speaker, it seemed to ooze with smug satisfaction. “We’ll just have to bring the party to you.”

  Fantastic. I could either continue onward, and meet their side on their home field advantage and be slaughtered, or I could stay put in this cracker box of a room and be slaughtered. If I get out of this, I swear I’ll take a course to learn to be more optimistic. The deciding factor for me was Mace. I had to draw their attention away from my wounded friend.

  “Ready or not,” I said to the enemy and myself. Before I could second-guess my decision, I pushed forward through the doorway, hands forked ahead of me. As I passed through, I scanned the new room for any threats, knowing they must be literally right around the corner. Needless to say, I was utterly unprepared when instead of a mass attack by Van Parson’s military, I found myself face-to-face with the dead.

  There were hundreds of them, possibly more. Pale apparitions, encased in glass caskets. Each corpse looked to have suffered some terrible and fatal trauma. The dead stole my attention for a moment longer, before I recalled Mace’s letter. He was right: the trains, the lab, all of it. Definitely something creepy going on. The military wouldn’t just be storing their honored dead in personal aquariums.

  This was the interior he had not been allowed admittance to. I checked again for VP’s foot soldiers. When none showed, I moved in on the man closest me. The uniform – what was left of it – wasn’t one of ours. He’s so young, I marveled. No matter which side he had been on in this war, he was still too young to have died in it.

  And so was Mason. I had to finish and get back to him. Get back on track. Finding Caduceus suddenly felt both imperative and less impor
tant at the same time. The contradiction floored me, and I had to brace myself on the glass covering the French soldier.

  An electrocuting sizzle shot through my hands and held me in place for an abbreviated eternity. The shocking ceased as the barrier disappeared, and I was thrown forward on top of the body. Surprise! Not glass, but some kind of static field? If not for the shock’s momentarily scrambling my motor control, my inner geek would’ve pissed his pants with excitement. Instead, it was taking me a half second longer than I would have liked to erect myself. I had just begun to feel the hold over my limbs returning to me, when my French cushion’s eyes fluttered open. He glared at me. And then, he started to hiss.

  Well, of course he did.

  DEAD OF WAR

  1

  Time wasn’t a common commodity at the moment, so I had to think fast and act faster. My previously deceased companion was apparently not too happy about his new lease on life. He was even less happy I was the one who had granted it. “What do. Do. To me,” he demanded as I regained my ground. He spoke English, but between his thick accent and the bubbles of mucus that exploded from his throat with every syllable, I had to concentrate to catch the words. When he tried to stand, he fell forward, planting the side of his face hard on the incubator (for lack of a better word). He grunted and held up the stump of leg that had betrayed him. “Where?”

  He meant where had his leg gone. He obviously expected me to fill him in on his missing time, too, but all I could do was shrug. “Sorry, buddy.”

  The soldier shook his head, once again grabbing at his stump. “It was. Here.” It was actually pretty sad. My better judgment dictated I shouldn’t read so much into his feelings, but I should instead beat feet.

  I decided to ignore my better judgment, and instead went with my better nature. Slowly, I made my way to the soldier’s side, unsure how to comfort a maimed, dead guy. But he wasn’t just some dead guy; he was a victim. This entire room was filled with Van Parson’s victims, who had first had their lives stolen from them, and now their deaths were being stripped away.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I don’t have any idea what happened to you. I just came here to rescue some friends.”

  I’m not sure if he even heard me; he simply continued patting at the bandaged remains of his abbreviated right leg. Presently, he stopped patting, and began to use both hands to scratch at the tattered dressings. “It was here.” He was repeating himself, too. “Right. Here.” After a second, fluid began to soak through the bandages. He was in shock, and I had to stop him from doing any further mutilation.

  I grabbed his arms and pinned them to his sides. Doing so, I noticed two very alarming things. As I fought and pulled at his forearms, I realized he was way stronger than he should have been – stronger than the combination of shock and adrenaline could account for. Then, I got a good look at his fingertips. Where his nails should’ve been, were ten chalky spikes. “What the hell?”

  The soldier traced my stare to his hands. Judging by the man’s gargled screech, he hadn’t been expecting it, either. He arched his back wildly, surprising and dislodging my grip. He pogoed up and fastened his hands around my throat, vice-tight, and began to squeeze. “What. You. Do?”

  I had done something boneheaded. My windpipe was paying the price. Just great. I beat and pulled at his hands. It was like some horrible Chinese finger trap. The more I struggled, the tighter his hold grew. I was about to blackout. All this for nothing. I let go of his hands, and feebly began to run my own along his bed and the machinery hooked to it. Groping blindly, I finally found a conduit and ripped at it with both hands, using what little reserves of amped-up strength this new life had afforded me. Luckily, I still had enough to snap it in half. Sparks flew, and the overheads went out, throwing us into complete darkness. It only lasted seconds, before the backups kicked in. Time to light up this Frankenstein monster, I thought, as I brought the pieces to either side of my assailant’s neck.

  I had improvised and hoped it would work. Indeed, it worked too well. The man’s head exploded pointblank, creating a rain of gray matter confetti. His body continued to hold me hostage, and for a torturous moment, I wondered if it was perhaps impossible to kill a guy a second time. I was still new to the rules, after all. Then, his fingers gave way, along with his knees. If not for the whole dead thing, his bowels would’ve been next.

  I stood, disgusted at my gory ensemble. More, I was sick at what they had done to this poor man – to the men and women encased all around me. I put it out of my head. I was going to find VP’s henchmen. Then, I was going to make them regret playing God. Or Satan.

  The electrical feedback caused the overheads to flicker and explode at irregular intervals. The lab was bathed in shadow for a beat, before the emergency lights came up, casting an eerie patina over the other corpses.

  “Enough of this,” I said, returning to my mission. “Time to kick some bad guy ass.” I surveyed the room and tried to decide where my enemies had gone. There had to be some sort of control room for them to hole up in.

  They were probably aware of my every move. Even on emergency backup. “There.” In the center of the far wall stood an inlayed hatch, with keypad. I took a second to commit my path to memory, then with a literal wave of my hand, set off a mini-EMP. The backups blinked out to be replaced with backup backups. “You’re kidding.” I had to pull my little trick twice more before I forced a TKO.

  With my vision inked, I wove precariously through the incubators. I moved quickly as feasible, planning for the inevitable assault that would follow my bursting through to their stronghold.

  (scuttle scuttle scuttle)

  I was so focused on the oncoming threat, I never stopped to consider what might be going on in the dark all around me.

  (SCUTTLE SCUTTLE SCUTTLE)

  I stopped dead. I had definitely heard movement, and whoever it was seemed to be attempting to either flank me or cut me off from the door ahead. Presumably, the latter. I started forward, again, trying to make it there first. According to my calculations, I had succeeded. I simply needed to reach out and blast through. I started for the keypad, intending to begin my melting spree there. Instead of a cold faceplate, my palm landed on the cold of concrete. Lost my bearings when I stopped.

  I knew what I had to do, but I so did not like it. To light up the room, however briefly, would undo any cover, real or perceived, I currently held over my enemy. For, like, the hundredth time, I thought of those I had come to save. Their fates were held in my little, rookie hands.

  If I were going to end this, I had to first begin it. I spread my wings and took to the air, summoning my aura cocoon. The field would protect me, but it was the side effects I was more in need of at the moment. Its glow lit the room to a level just past that of the emergency lights. Now I could see my exit. I was off by just over a yard.

  I could also see what I had been racing in the dark. Mason had regained himself and had been trying to reach my side. He was having a hard time of it, too, slipping and fumbling in a half crawl along the tiled floor. I floated over to just above him, calling his name.

  He paused, bracing himself against the metal doorframe, but he didn’t respond. His back was to me, and it arched as he worked to slide himself to a full standing position.

  I descending to within a couple feet and called, “Mace?”

  This time it registered, and he made a pained effort to turn toward me. I floated even closer, offering a smile I hoped he could make out in the weak light. He saw it, and strained a smile back. It was a large, toothy grin. It looked almost goofy even. He’s still in shock from earlier, I thought. I would have to get him to safety before I could continue. My road was filled with one speed bump after another.

  Mason was still looking at me with that crazed grin, head tilted at an impossible angle, and looking for all the world like that dog from those old commercials. He didn’t speak, but kept on turning his head. I worried, in his confusion, my friend would keep craning his neck unti
l it snapped, leaving him paralyzed. Is that even possible?

  Then, there was a series of snapping sounds, reminiscent of something ratcheted to the point of stripping its gears. Mace’s head was now completely inverted, with his chin at the twelve o’clock position and his hair tickling his Adam’s apple. Still it rotated, a cacophony of dry knuckle pops.

  Finally his head was back at a regular angle. The grin had vanished from both of our faces. Before his disappeared, however, I watched, horrified, as his teeth turned to needles. Suddenly, he lunged my way, and his vertical was off the charts. He latched onto me, pinning my throat for a second time that day. He had me, and he wasn’t letting go. Then, in a move almost too quick to catch, Mason slammed his face forward in a fluid serpent strike, battening his fangs into my left wing.

  The effect was more startled than pained. My aura had protected my wing from being pierced, but I had actually felt the indentions. Besides, it felt as if my aura might’ve been what he had been after, all along. I could feel the thing siphoning it from me. Whatever the nanites were packing lit him up and turned him into this abomination. Apparently, it was time to deep charge his batteries. This was going too, too far. I pushed and writhed against Mason, but his grip was every bit as tight as the soldier I had faced earlier. I had been forced to blow that one’s head off to get free. Was I prepared to do that to my best friend? Was there even part of that friend left inside this monster?

  I wasn’t ready to go that far. Not yet. Though, I had to do something. We couldn’t stay in stalemate for long, and I was starting to grow light-headed from the lack of oxygen. I didn’t have any electrical lines handy, so I decided on a low intensity jolt of my own. I flew him to the rafters for maximum height. Focusing, I blew out just enough energy from my field to shock his system and knock him loose. I watched in horror as he toppled through the air, and smacked on the tiles far below. God, please, let whatever they’ve done to him save him from that fall.