by Greig Beck
The author also suggested they needed to prepare for the possibility of this darker personality not just asserting itself to become the dominant one, but one day becoming the only one.
Jack Hammerson knew that when that manifestation occurred, Alex Hunter wouldn’t be Alex Hunter anymore; he’d be a near unstoppable killing machine. The implications were horrifying – for Aimee; his son, Joshua; and Alex himself. And then there were the implications to Hammerson and his HAWCs.
What do you do with mad dogs? Hammerson already knew the answer to that. His eyes moved to the icon on his screen labeled ‘SWP’ – Synthetic Warrior Program. There was an old saying about hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. To that end, he had prepared a contingency plan to defend them all against a rogue Alex Hunter. He hoped the day would never come, but if it did, then they were ready to fight fire with fire.
Create a monster to kill a monster, Hammerson thought glumly. I hope, never. He sat staring at the report for several more seconds, not seeing the words anymore as his mind had turned inwards. The knock at the door gave him a start.
“Jesus.” Hammerson closed the report and pushed back from his desk. “Come.”
He already knew who it would be, so he cleared his mind and smiled as he stood. Alex Hunter paused to briefly salute, then he crossed to his superior officer with hand outstretched.
“Sir.”
Hammerson gripped the hand, examining his protégé. Alex had gray-green eyes that could project warmth, like now, or radiate a cold ruthlessness with an unblinking stare.
“Good job on the Manhattan.” Hammerson pointed to the chair opposite his own at the huge mahogany desk. “We recovered the device, all terrorists down, and Joe Public gets to sleep easy.”
“Except we lost the senator and his wife,” Alex said.
“True.” Hammerson sighed. “Gillian and Robert Anderson were dead the moment they boarded. Sometimes fate has plans for people and nothing or no one can change it. You saved millions of lives that day, but bottom line, we can’t protect everyone, everywhere.”
Alex stared into space. “We are the sword and shield.”
“Damn right.” Hammerson nodded. “Let’s move on. Are you rested?”
Alex turned. “Sure, if you call being decontaminated and debriefed for hours resting. I’m still waiting for that leave you promised me.”
“I promised you leave? Must be slipping.” Hammerson chuckled. “Anyway; I promised Aimee I’d give you leave – there’s a difference.” Hammerson raised his eyebrows. “How are she and Joshua by the way?” He watched Alex closely.
“Good, no, great. Having us all together, like a real family, it’s changed my life.” Alex seemed to relax further into the chair.
“And the headaches?” Hammerson smiled, watching.
Alex waved it away. “No, none.”
“Anger flare ups, conflict, or … voices?” Hammerson’s eyes narrowed. “That one voice.”
Alex’s eyes slowly lifted, the gaze direct. “No, no, and no.” He opened his hands, arms wide. “No change, I’m fine, Jack. So there’s probably no need to watch them, us, anymore, right?”
“Probably not.” Hammerson just left it there, committing to nothing. The techniques they were using seemed to work while he was conscious. But even Alex knew that when dreaming, the monster ran free.
But while under control, that monster was very useful. Hammerson tilted his head. “You’ll have to bring Aimee and Josh in for a hello. I miss them both.” He sat back. “In fact, I’ve got something for Josh.”
The corner of Alex’s mouth lifted. “Please tell me it’s not a weapon.”
Hammerson smirked. “In the wrong hands, it might be.” He folded his arms. “I’ve got a friend that works out at the Fermilab National Accelerator Laboratory.”
“The Tevatron particle collider at Illinois?” Alex’s brows went up. “I’ve heard of it. They’re doing some interesting particle-collision work.”
Hammerson nodded. “That’s them; they also run some interesting breeding programs for guard dogs. They’re designed to be big, strong, and with intelligence that’s well above average. The boss of the pack, Fenrir, has just sired another litter; I think I can get Josh a pup.”
“Jack, Joshua has been after a dog for years. But I think I’d like him to pick one out himself.” Alex said.
“I know, I know,” said Hammerson. “But he won’t find one like this. And besides, he gets to pick it … sort of. These dogs are part of their Wolfen Guardian Program, and they’re called that for a reason. They can almost understand human speech. The dog will protect Joshua and Aimee with his life, and will mortally bond with them.” Hammerson shrugged. “For when you’re away.”
Alex sat thinking for a moment. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt for him to have a look.” He stared from under his brows. “But no strings attached, huh?”
Hammerson smiled. “No strings. In fact, I’ll run them out there myself. There’s a male pup, three months old; I think its name is Torben.”
“Torben, Tor, I like it. Okay.” He looked up. “Hey, did you just say, for when I’m away?”
Hammerson opened his arms. “Got a little job for you.”
Alex’s grin faded. “One day, you calling me in here will be just to shoot the breeze.” A line appeared between Alex’s brows. “What have you got?”
Hammerson clasped his fingers together. “It’s a retrieval – the Orlando Space Shuttle Orbiter has come down. We need to search for survivors, and retrieve a package, top priority. Little more than twenty-four hours, in and out.”
Alex nodded. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve a cave, or at least it’s somewhere warm.”
Hammerson’s mouth hiked at one corner. “Well, I can tell you it’s certainly above ground – well above ground. Good enough?”
“No caves?” Alex cocked his head.
“Nope; no Antarctic labyrinths, and no going beneath any dark ice.” Hammerson smiled grimly. “But as for the somewhere warm, well, save that for your holidays.” He sat down, hit a few keys and pushed the image feed on his computer up onto a wall screen. “Revelation Mountains.”
“Alaska.” Alex whistled. “Yeah, well above ground is right.”
The ten-by-eight-foot screen showed the satellite view from several hundred miles up. The geography was a gray-blue and white-capped rumpled sheet. Hammerson zoomed in and they flew down from space as the HAWC leader selected a grid and enlarged.
The clarity blurred for a moment before the resolution software cleaned it up. He stopped at about a thousand feet up.
“A lot of what we are seeing here is computer extrapolation. What it can’t see it’s interpreting based on best-guess algorithms, because it’s dealing with some weird cloud formations that are distorting the image over the site.”
Alex frowned, stood and walked closer to the screen. “Looks like a giant volcano.”
“It does, but it isn’t.” Hammerson gestured to the screen. “That cusp is around 10,000 feet up, and created by three mountains being wedged up against each other, making a giant floating crater about two miles wide.”
“Like a molar with a bad cavity,” Alex observed. “But there’s something missing; snow. All the other peaks close by are covered, but this crater is ice-free. Did the Orlando suffer a fuel burn on impact?”
In response, Hammerson highlighted the area and further increased magnification. There were the remains of Orlando, its skid line, and its broken, battered shell plus the familiar cone-shaped spray pattern of debris dispersal.
“There she is, the Orlando, busted up real bad, but the cabin and bay area came down primarily intact. What that angle of descent and its fuselage positioning tells me is that it obviously came in under some sort of control, otherwise it’d be in a million pieces with nothing larger than a matchbox.” He turned to Alex. “Then there wouldn’t be anything for us to do.”
Hammerson joined Alex at the large screen. He pointed. “But that smu
dge you see is growing larger, and science division does not believe its chemical, heat, or debris scatter. What they do think is it’s something organic, and it’s growing.” He turned, arms folded. “Something that spilled out of the Orlando.”
“What the hell were they working on up there?” Alex asked.
Hammerson shrugged. “Just your basic low gravity experiments. They also had some lab animals, some mold and fungi spores, insect specimens, but nothing that could conceivably cause what we’ve seen on that mountaintop. But …” He held a finger in the air. “… the outlier in all this, is that they took onboard a fragment of space debris.”
Alex turned. “We talking space junk?”
“No,” Hammerson said. “Part of an asteroid, NASA tells us. Came out of the void – deep space.” He went back to his computer and then split the image – the first remained as the mountaintop, but the second now showed the video feed from inside the Orlando cockpit just before it went down. He started it playing.
Once again Hammerson gritted his teeth at the sound of panic, fear and madness. The rushed movement was blurred, but no matter how many times he heard it, it still wavered between being vaguely human vocalizations to something that was bizarrely unidentifiable.
“That was the last contact from the Orlando before it dropped out of orbit.” Hammerson turned to Alex.
Alex continued to stare hard at the screen. “Play it again.” He then asked Hammerson to play it over and over, each time the creases in his forehead grew deeper.
“If you ask me, sounds like someone sent us a recording straight from hell.” Hammerson grimaced. “After that, they went dark.” He returned to his seat and leaned back in his chair. “And then they came down hard in the mountains.”
Alex was still frowning. “Three voices, two men and one woman – I’ve never heard such fear in a human voice. Screaming for their lives.” Alex looked back at the mountains. “And now, something is growing up there, when nothing should have even survived the crash.”
“Something did; we got movement as well. We just don’t know from what.”
“The last image is blurred,” Alex observed.
“That’s right, those weird low clouds; our Sabers satellite has detected a range of gases that are being held over the crater in high concentrations. It seems a pretty primordial mix. Our science teams think it might have a high fungal, bacterial or viral load, causing some sort of xeno change. Whatever is growing down there seems to be off-gassing.”
“Well, can’t be all that lethal if we’ve picked up movement, so there’s someone or something alive down there.” Alex retook his seat. “So why us?”
Hammerson expected the question. “That’s what I said. Normally, I’d kick this type job straight back upstairs. We’ve got enough potential firestorms going on in the world that we can be poking our noses into. But then the general told me two things – one is that there’s a data chip that contains the images of every missile silo in the globe. He wants it retrieved from that crash site at all costs.”
Alex whistled.
Hammerson nodded. “And the second thing is, we’ve intercepted a Russian communication – seems they’re going to make a play for it as well. They’ll be there before us, and we expect they’ll send some heavy hitters. They’ll want to get in quick, steamroll anyone that gets in their way, and then vanish.” He looked into Alex’s eyes. “And you know what that means?”
Alex nodded. “I do, they’ll clean the site.” He snorted softly. “So now it’s a race.”
“It’s always a race, son.” Hammerson gave him a crooked smile.
“I choose my team?” Alex raised his chin.
“The HAWC team, sure. But be advised this is a NASA mission, we’re just riding shotgun.” He held up a hand as he saw the protest building. “I don’t like it either, but this one is not in my control.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “NASA controlled until I determine a hotzone. Then I own it.”
Hammerson smiled. “Works for me.” He slid a computer tablet toward Alex. “Here’s your available mission stock; pull a team together. The NASA techs you’re going to be chaperoning are already inbound. Say your goodbyes, pick your team, and get down to the armory.” He sat back. “Six hours, you’re airborne.”
Alex grimaced. “Jesus, Jack, Aimee will …”
Hammerson held up a hand. “I’ve taken the liberty of flying them in.” He checked his watch. “And by now they should be both out on the far training grounds, having a picnic.”
“Pretty confident, huh?’ Alex shook his head, but grinned.
Hammerson shrugged. “Been meaning to catch up with them. And besides, later I can organise for Josh to see the dog. Give them both a hug for me.” His face became serious. “Then be ready to brief your team, prior to dustoff.”
Alex grabbed the tablet, stood, saluted and went to turn toward the door when he paused. “Where’s the big guy up to?”
“Sam?” Hammerson smiled. “Oh, he’s got all the new kit built in.”
“Built in?” Alex raised his eyebrows.
“Oh yeah.” Hammerson returned the smile. “Been out of surgery for weeks. He’s down in the armory now. About time we put the big guy back to work.” Hammerson saluted and Alex pushed out through the door.
Jack Hammerson lifted his coffee and toasted the screen. “Here’s to you, Mother Russia. You didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, did you?” He picked up the phone. “Put me through to General Chilton.”
CHAPTER 11
Alex couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face as he headed to the secure elevator that would take him down to the secret armory of USSTRATCOM’s research and development weapons division. It was situated deep below the base, and accessible only to a handful of people.
R&D weapons division, or as the HAWCs referred to it the ‘toy store’, gave the HAWCs special access to new weaponry. They acted as guinea pigs for the new weapon tech, and in return they got it before anyone else. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times it worked, and rarely did anyone get vaporized anymore.
Alex stood before the featureless silver doors, and waited for them to scan his facial features and sniff his DNA.
As he waited he used the technical note pad to call up the bios of the HAWCs he had available. He’d take a large team, eight players, including himself. He knew each HAWC would be the equivalent of half a dozen standard Spec Forces operatives from anywhere in the world.
He smiled grimly. With that many HAWCs at his back, he could take down a city if he needed to.
“Captain Hunter.”
Alex looked up to see a solid looking young soldier, whose face he recognized. He quickly looked down at the pad, and saw the same features staring back from the new HAWC inductees list.
“2nd Lieutenant Steven Knight.” Alex said and the soldier came to a rod straight attention.
“Yes sir.” He had shortcropped blond hair, slight sun damage to his nose and cheeks, telling of either days on the beach or the farm – the Midwestern accent told him of the latter.
“I just want to say, it’s an honor to meet you, sir, I’ve been wanting to …”
“Says here, you’re ex-Ranger stock.” Alex glanced again at his bio.
“Sir, yes sir.” He stared straight ahead. “Best shot in my squad.”
Alex nodded. “Peak fitness, high pain threshold, excel at hand-to-hand combat, weapons tech expertise …” Alex nodded as he read. “… and climbing experience.”
The man’s lips curled up slightly at the corners. “Free climb down at Devil’s Lake in Wisconsin, every chance I can, sir.”
“Devil’s Lake is for weekend hikers.” Alex stared hard at the young soldier, and his smile dropped. “And you’ve no HAWC mission experience.”
Knight’s jaw firmed. “I’m ready, waiting and mission fit, Captain Hunter. Just say the word, sir.”
Alex leaned in real close, and gave the man the stare. Knight continued to look straight ahead, not
blinking, not moving a muscle. Alex knew his glare could reduce grown men to puddles of nerves; Knight didn’t budge.
“2nd Lieutenant Knight, then consider you’ve just had the word. Authorization will be sent, you will communicate to no one and you will be ready and waiting down at rallying center five for kit-out and mission briefing in two hours.”
Knight’s lips compressed as he tried to hold in the grin. He saluted and Alex did the same. He looked about to say something else.
“Go!” Alex yelled and then chuckled as the man spun and raced back down the corridor.
He turned back to the elevator and the scanners checked him again. Satisfied, the two-feet thick doors slid back slowly. Both the doors and shaft were constructed of almost solid titanium, and if through some miracle they were breached, then the shaft itself would be immediately sealed with a plug of solid steel, ten feet thick.
Stepping inside, Alex felt the momentary claustrophobia of being shut in an iron box, but he set the feeling aside as he reopened the technical note pad. Alex brought up the first bio – Casey Franks. The brutal-looking woman stared hard back at the camera lens. She was tougher than many of the bigger men she worked with, and in a firestorm, she wasn’t afraid to be the first through a door. He’d just finished a job with her, and he couldn’t ask for a better agent to have at his back.
Alex pushed her profile into the mission folder and slid to the next. He couldn’t help grinning. Why take a few armored vehicles when he could take a bulldozer? Sam Reid’s image filled the frame, and not just because it was a close-up; the man was physically huge. Sam was a few years older than Alex was, and probably the closest thing Alex had to a friend in the HAWCs. They’d been on many missions together, and it was on one of them, in the jungles of South America, that Sam had his spine crushed, rendering him a paraplegic.
