“We have to make it to the executive shuttle on the roof,” U’ldanta said.
“What about all the others? We can’t just leave them.”
“We can’t be sure they’re alive either. I don’t like it any more than you do, Greg, but we have to make it out of here!”
Hinsin reluctantly nodded. He stood up and hit the switch to open the airlock, watching the door hiss open. Once they saw that it was safe, both stepped out into a large atrium that was mainly used as an executive meeting room, with desks for consulting. They both walked forward with caution. The room was eerily quiet, as even the gunfire couldn’t even be heard anymore.
“I don’t like this,” Hinsin said.
Suddenly both of their OPIaAs began chirping. Veena quickly opened hers. “Warning: Black Cell Pathogen detected…” the OPIaA advised.
Veena looked at Hinsin, who stared back into her eyes. He began taking shallow breaths. “Veena…” Hinsin trembled. He quickly fumbled for his breather, grabbing it from his belt. As he moved the mask halfway to his face, he began coughing. The first coughs were light, but they quickly turned violent and paralyzing, causing him to fall to the ground.
“Hinsin!” Veena shouted. She knelt by his side, holding him. “No, no, no!” Despite her medical prowess and immunity to the virus, she couldn’t have felt more helpless. Hinsin started coughing up blood as the Black Cell began to work through its stages.
“Get away from me!” he shrieked. She could only watch as her friend suffered in front of her. Hinsin spasmed harshly, his muscles contracting almost inhumanly. They started mildly, but like the coughs they quickly turned violent as his back arched sharply.
Veena stepped away and turned her head. It was too painful for her to watch, knowing well what would come next. She could only hear him now. She tried to cover her ears, but his screams pierced her hands and chilled her bones. Hinsin screamed as a spasm finally broke his back. When the screaming stopped, she turned back to him. He stopped breathing, blood trickling from his eyes and nose. With her best friend and her research gone, Veena lost the will to do anything and fell to her knees.
***
Caleb slowly opened his eyes as a spark from a power conduit above him burnt his cheek. Once awake he could smell smoke. A loud boom and being swept off his feet was the last he remembered. His back throbbed from slamming into the wall. He looked about the area, seeing patches of fire with most of the lights above destroyed. The floor was a mess of debris everywhere. Piping hung from the ceilings and dust from rubble made a fine coat of dust on everything.
Caleb groaned as he picked himself up, shaking his head. As he came to fully, he heard another officer through his earpiece.
“—to anyone left, Black Cell is spreading through the whole damn facility, breathers on! God, is anyone still—” The radio finally gargled to static.
Caleb reached for his belt pouch and retrieved his personal breather, affixing it to his face. He tried to reach someone on the radio as he looked for his rifle.
“This is Officer Cordt, Quadrant Three, come back, over!” Caleb said as he lifted some debris. Only static returned. At last he heard talking coming from further down the hall, but he couldn’t be sure if they were friend or foe.
Caleb began to panic and frantically tried to find his rifle as the distant radio garble drew closer. Finally, he spotted a broken sling under a chunk of rubble and lifted it to find his rifle. He picked it up, pulled back the bolt and blew out the dust to ensure it still functioned. He then shouldered his weapon and found a metal canister to take cover behind, resting the rifle against a notch and aiming down the hall.
Three figures came into view. Neither fully visible nor completely invisible to the naked eye, but rather a distortion of the walls and ground around them, they appeared as shimmers in plain sight. Optic camouflage?
“Quadrant is quiet, don’t drain your cells,” one of the commandos said. Their camouflage deactivated and three men appeared in thin air.
Caleb noted the gear they were equipped with, all of it high end equipment, nothing that any street gang could afford. Their uniforms were black, with a strange grey camouflage pattern and glossy black armor plating. Their armor looked like the titanium-ceramic coated alloy common with military units in the System, but these commandos bore no insignia, ranks or name tapes, and their faces were covered by their helmets and visors. Their weaponry wasn’t short of advanced either. Tarvin TC-40 battle rifles, frag grenades, Mk-30 handguns and enough magazines for prolonged firefights.
Caleb feared who the commandos were, and from their equipment, it was very clear what they were here for. They hadn’t seen Caleb yet – his only advantage. He wouldn’t get a better shot, and it had to be precise. The 6.9mm rounds his rifle chambered wouldn’t pierce the armor they were wearing except at point blank, so he’d have to aim at the exposed sections.
Caleb received contractor as well as High Science’s own training, but he had never seen combat before. Being as young as he was meant he had little tactical experience. Shooting a man was a tall order especially when he knew as little as he did about his situation. He aimed at the commando out front, lining up the sight post on his rifle on the exposed collarbone. Caleb fired a single shot, booming in the hallway and stunning his hearing in the enclosed space. The bullet struck the commando’s neck and exited through his medulla, severing his spinal cord. It was an instant fatality and a perfect shot, but it was lucky.
The remaining commandos snapped in the direction of the shot. “Contact, front!” one of them shouted. The two commandos didn’t have much for cover, but they kept Caleb down as they fired on the canister he was hiding behind. He reached to his belt for a CREP grenade. He pulled the pin and tossed the grenade around the canister, landing right between the commandos.
“Grenade, grenade!” a commando shouted.
Caleb covered his ears as fast as he could, as the CREP grenade had a short fuse. The Concentrated Robust Energy Propulsion, or CREP, was a less than lethal stun grenade used mainly in riot control. Using the grenade in such an enclosed space would be devastating and even lethal, exactly what Caleb was counting on.
The grenade erupted in a blinding blue-white light, blinding the area, and the bang from the grenade cracked the air loud enough to shatter eardrums even without the flash. The concentrated energy exploded out in a blue-white wave, lifting the commandos far into the air and slamming them into the wall and ceiling with extreme force.
One of the commandos crushed his neck on the piping above him, paralyzed when he hit the floor. The other commando was swept to the right, crashing into the wall beside him. The force drove his right arm into his shoulder blade, breaking the bone like a matchstick. He fell back to the ground, screaming in pain, his arm dangling from the break.
Caleb peeked around the corner to see the commando writhing on the floor. He moved towards him, weapon trained. Caleb wanted to find out who exactly he was fighting, but the commando on the floor was blind and deaf, and so brushed off the idea. Instead, and seeing as how these men were responsible for the attack, Caleb put two more rounds into the commando’s chest, killing him.
Afterward Caleb ran down the hall yelling into his earpiece. “Parker, come in! Parker!” As he ran down the hallway, he saw bodies scattered on the floor, frightening him more and more. Some were security officers, but a lot of them were maintenance workers and scientists. All head shots – executed.
He feared the worst for Parker, one of the few friends he had at the facility. No callbacks on the radio, no living personnel. Caleb was alone. He stopped to rest against the wall, still feeling sore from when he awoke. He had no idea what to do now. Just then his radio began to crackle to life.
“—Executive U’ldanta… all personnel,” U’ldanta said over the radio. The message was garbled and Caleb could only partially make it out. “—been a security breach. Many doctors… —level three operating— including myself and Executive Hinsin. Any… please respond!” Final
ly, Caleb made out enough to give himself an objective. He was the Executive’s only hope now.
“This is Officer Cordt to Executive U’ldanta, over!” he shouted. “Come back, over!”
Caleb groaned in frustration. No matter how many times he tried, no one could hear him. Still, he found hope in the message as he pushed himself off the wall and made a break for the elevator. Caleb slapped the button on the panel to call the lift, and thankfully the elevator was moving and hadn’t been damaged. In the meantime, he took a moment to check his gear. Three magazines left for his rifle, plus one almost full in the rifle itself, and his knife. He wasn’t equipped for heavy combat and the TC-40 battle rifles the commandos were equipped with were ID-tagged. Nothing but their own biometric data could fire it, so he couldn’t salvage their gear if he needed to. It was more stress Caleb didn’t need on his birthday. He put his hand against the wall, trying to catch his breath.
The elevator door chimed open and Caleb was caught off guard. Two more commandos were standing in the elevator, talking almost casually. “COMM jammers are doing their job, entire security team neutralized, we’re in the clear—” the commando said before cutting himself off.
The commandos stared at Caleb, no more than two feet away from them. They hadn’t thought any members of security were still active, but to their shock, Caleb was alive and well. Caleb fired the rifle from his hip, not having time nor the space to aim down the sights in the elevator entrance. Several bullets struck the commando on the right side, mainly in his lower thigh and in the groin, collapsing him to the ground in pain.
The other commando charged Caleb and tackled him to the ground outside the elevator. Caleb tried to keep his rifle between him and his opponent, but it was knocked away. His foe punched him in the face repeatedly until Caleb finally threw him aside. The commando immediately tried to pull his sidearm but Caleb picked himself up and dove on top of him before he could fire.
Caleb grabbed the pistol and tried to wrestle it out of his hands, but not before a desperate shot went off right by his ear. Caleb finally managed to knock the pistol out of the commando’s hands, sending it sliding away. He quickly reached around to his belt to grab his knife and tried to plunge it in his opponent’s chest, but met resistance as the commando held him back.
Caleb put all his weight on the knife, but his foe was too strong. Using all his force, the commando yelled as he pushed Caleb off, causing him to lose the knife in the process. Caleb acted fast and pounced back on the commando, delivering several punches to his face. He climbed over and wrapped his arms around the commando’s neck, locking his legs around his body so he’d have nowhere to squirm to.
Caleb squeezed his arms as hard as he could in opposite directions, the commando letting out a muffled scream. He tightened his grip even more until he finally heard the soft crunch of the man’s neck. The body stopped moving, and Caleb released his arms and let out a sigh of relief.
He stood up and collected his rifle again. As he turned to head back to the elevator he felt a bullet pierce his left shoulder. He staggered back and yelled in pain, looking to see the commando he had shot in the elevator still alive and aiming his pistol at him. Caleb brought his rifle up and pumped the remainder of his magazine into the enemy. Multiple bullets riddled the commando’s body and face, killing him.
Caleb grabbed his shoulder and winced as the pain hit more abundantly. The bullet had passed through his soft armor and stopped inside of his shoulder, making the pain greater, but it meant less blood loss. He had to move quickly while the adrenaline could still carry him.
He kicked the empty magazine out, rocked a new one in and jogged to the elevator, where he proceeded to the Level Three Operating Theater.
***
The commando stood in the operating theater hallway, waiting for a reply on his radio. He wondered if the communications jammers were affecting his own group’s radios.
“Teams Two and Three, check in,” the commando said into his earpiece once more. All he heard was silence as he stood guard. He turned to his partner who shook his head. At that point, he realized someone must be still alive and putting up resistance. He had to make the report to his superior, as the situation was far less than smooth now. “Hood, this is Team Six. No response from Two or Three. Advise.”
“Still a rat in the area,” Hood said over the radio. “Find him, take care of him.”
“Yes sir –”
The commando fell to the ground as a bullet pierced his cranium and smashed out through the front of his helmet. The commando beside him quickly spun around to see a lone security officer. Before he could react, a bullet struck his chest. He fell to the ground, screaming in pain, before being silenced by another bullet to his head.
Caleb had only one arm to handle his rifle. His other was in so much pain that he could hardly move it now that his adrenaline was starting to wear thin. He made his way to the operating theater, now only meters away, where he looked to the ground to find a gruesome discovery. Workers, security, scientists. All killed, but not by anyone’s bullet. All of them were contorted and bleeding from orifices.
Then he heard the deep, synthetic voice from the overhead speaker.
“Warning: Biohazard in effect. Warning –”
“My God…” Caleb said as he shivered at the sight. All the commandos had been wearing combat breathers. His sorrow quickly turned to rage as he looked at the dozen or more corpses on the ground. He ran to the theater door, large and red with Executives Only stamps marking it. He took cover, hitting the switch to open the door before going in.
Caleb stormed in when the door hissed open, but stopped immediately once inside. His heart dropped like a lead brick. The sound of numerous weapons being aimed made him realize his defeat.
A dozen commandos had their weapons trained on Caleb, all ready to fire. Doctor U’ldanta was on her knees in the center of the large atrium, Hinsin in her arms. She was being held at gunpoint by a man in an Interpol uniform, no doubt one of the Interpol Trojans who broke into the facility under phony IDs.
The man looked at Caleb with a piercing stare. U’ldanta looked at him but said nothing. Caleb threw his rifle to the ground, seeing no other alternative. The man gave him a simple nod as Caleb never broke his hateful gaze.
The room thundered of automatic fire as nearly a hundred bullets struck Caleb’s body. Veena looked away. Once the gun smoke cleared, she looked in front of her to see the security officer barely standing. He coughed several times, blood pooling inside his breather, letting out raspy breaths. The bullets had turned his lungs to shreds. He stared straight at his attacker with strained and bloodshot eyes. With no more fight left in him he finally dropped to the floor, motionless, blood pooling beneath him.
Hood was flustered. An operation that was supposed to last five minutes had stretched to fifteen now that they’d met with resistance. “Collect our dead, no presence. Understood? ” Hood shouted.
The commando beside him nodded. He got on his radio to relay the message to the other teams in the facility before walking out of the room. Another commando approached Hood from the airlock. Four more commandos followed behind him, carrying a large biohazard container.
“The mutant’s body is prepped for transport, sir,” the commando said.
“Good. We extract in five,” Hood said.
“Yes sir. And the Auroran?”
Hood looked at the doctor, who appeared to be in some sort of trance. She hadn’t put up any resistance, but Hood was smarter than that.
“Secured,” he said.
Veena turned and looked up at the man only to see the butt stock of his rifle slam into her forehead, dropping her to the ground. The blow was fierce, and even as an Auroran she couldn’t fight it as the room became a blur.
But there could be no survivors. Hood aimed his handgun. As the world faded, two bullets smacked into her chest, and everything went dark.
2
HUMANITY ZERO
HOLOBOOK EXCERPT:
“Humanity Zero: Old Earth Compendium”
League of Scholars; Publication Date 2221, 38th Edition 2467
NEW HAVEN HALL OF RECORDS, EARTH
ACCESS RESTRICTION: NONE
…In the early 21st century, humanity had made great strides to pursue and ensure world peace. One nation, united resources and an Earth standard replacing the nations’ flags: that was the goal. Leading the pack were but a few superpowers with upstanding global influence. They were the guiding lights of all allied nations, stepping in to assist in wartime affairs and helping to restructure fractured governments. With time, this influence would finally pay off.
In 2027, Earth had reached a golden age. Wars became conflicts and conflicts became mere skirmishes. Soon, all were practically nonexistent. Countries entered alliances. Third-world governments were fading, and Earth seemed to be growing a little brighter. Despite the many efforts to strive forward, however, a problem loomed, as the golden age only truly represented the political stage. The superpowers, along with their allies, had failed to address the simplest matter: population.
In the year 2034, the world’s population peaked at over ten billion. Many nations’ leaders did not address the situation soon enough, as slums began to form in even the wealthiest of cities. Elegant, more expensive and far riskier propositions were agreed upon to address concerns. Expensive housing projects began construction, outreaching aid programs were established to put homeless in camps, and sprawls similar to Kowloon were built.
An effort to fully colonize Mars was even launched by joint nations and NASA. Spaceflight was far from perfected, so options were limited to a small team to set up forward operations on the red planet. The process was far too slow to even have a chance at relieving population stress on Earth, however, and due to complications lost to this day, the mission ended in failure.
On Earth, populations of people from many nations moved from city to city, seeking shelter under freeways, ditches and abandoned buildings. Some populations were so large that small micro-governments were established from within just to keep a form of civil management. Physical contact was almost always endured. Thousands brushing against each other just to get to the market or down a simple sidewalk, everyone always breathing in twenty other individuals’ exhaled air. Hygiene and sanitation quickly became a commodity.
The Black Cell Page 3
