by A. G. Taylor
Those few members of the camp allowed access to the command centre found themselves inside an air-conditioned environment kept to a comfortable twenty-two degrees at all times. In a tech room that took up half the building, security operatives monitored air and sea traffic for hundreds of kilometres around the island. The rest of the circular structure was given to Major Bright’s personal living quarters.
In a perfectly round chamber in the middle of the building, Major Bright sat in a leather examination chair, not unlike the kind in a dentist’s surgery. He was stripped to the waist, revealing an incredibly muscular upper body that bore a strange, black mark spreading across his skin. A grey-haired doctor in a lab coat hovered nervously over the major, an ultrasound scanner in one hand. He pressed the scanner head to Major Bright’s chest and moved it up and down. On a monitor beside the chair, a grainy image of Bright’s internal organs appeared.
“Is it a boy or a girl, doctor?” the major asked, looking at the screen.
“It’s a ten-centimetre-long rock fragment,” Dr. Cameron said and indicated a dark object next to Bright’s heart. “Lodged inside your ribcage. Frankly, I’m amazed it didn’t kill you. Care to tell me how it got there?”
Bright drummed his fingers impatiently on the chair arm. “I tripped on a meteorite. Can you remove it?”
Dr. Cameron replaced the scanner in its cradle. “Well, that would be a little risky.”
“Risky how?”
“The shard is partially embedded in your heart. Removal could have serious side effects. For the moment, at least, I recommend leaving it where it is.”
Major Bright rose from the chair and towered over the other man. “Excuse me?”
Dr. Cameron laughed nervously. “You seem to be doing just fine with it in there.”
Bright jabbed his fingers at the black, scaly skin spreading across the right side of his chest and up his neck to his cheek. “Doing just fine? Take a look at my face!”
“You could always get a second opinion.”
Bright narrowed his eyes. “You are the second opinion, doctor. My last physician got…fired.”
The merc at the door chuckled. The doctor’s face drained of blood.
“I can try to stop the spread of the infection,” Dr. Cameron said. “Maybe even reverse the process with a retro-virus. The process is experimental, but—”
Bright slapped the doctor on the shoulder so hard he almost knocked him to his knees. “That’s fine, doc. I’m used to experimental.” He nodded to the merc. “Take Dr. Cameron to his new lab. Make sure he’s well looked after.”
As the soldier approached, Cameron’s face fell. “You don’t expect me to stay here?”
“I absolutely expect you to stay here. Ask for any equipment you need and my men will have it for you within twenty-four hours. Money is not an issue.”
“But my practice in Sydney—”
“You work for me now, Dr. Cameron. And I expect you to earn your ten million dollar advance.” Major Bright’s tone was such that it was clear there would be no argument. The merc took Dr. Cameron by the arm and led him from the room.
Alone in the chamber, Bright walked to a sink against the wall and examined his reflection in the mirror. The black, alien mark had moved further up his face overnight. Ever since the meteorite shard had become embedded in his body, following the destruction of Makarov’s tower in Russia, the infection had begun to spread. There was no doubt it would kill him eventually – few beings had the psychic strength to live for long in such close proximity to the alien material, that much he sensed. The shard was keeping him alive, but its massive power was also slowly killing him…
For the time being, however, there were benefits: superpowers stronger than he had ever experienced before, courtesy of the Entity, the alien intelligence that channelled itself through the shard. Where previously he had relied on serum developed from the blood of the superhuman children for his strength, now he had a seemingly limitless pool of power. The shard in his body also provided a psychic link with the ancient, evil being across an immeasurable vastness of space. Again, something that was a blessing and a curse.
Another doctor? the Entity’s voice rang in his head. Anyone would think you wanted to get rid of me.
“The mark is spreading,” Bright replied. “It’s like a cancer.” He wet a sponge under the tap and dabbed at his skin with cooling water – the only thing that seemed to give him any relief from the aching pain of the alien flesh.
Merely a side effect of close proximity to my power, the Entity said. Would you prefer to lose your strength? Go back to relying on the blood of children for your superpowers?
Bright threw the sponge into the sink and stormed to the medical cabinet by the chair.
“I want to live!” he snapped as he popped a couple of pain pills and washed them down with a glass of water. “What are you turning me into?”
The Entity laughed. So paranoid. We’re a team, remember?
“I didn’t sign up to become a lizard.”
I need a different vessel for my earthly form. The girl, Sarah Williams, is the only human I have encountered with the mental strength to contain me. It is our destiny to be joined.
“Right,” the major said. “And when you’ve joined with the girl, I get tossed away like Makarov, do I?”
No, no. You will have your reward: you will retain the superhuman abilities I have gifted you… Gain control over the human enclaves of the world… Your own armies to command… All the power you could ever imagine…
“Well, I can imagine a lot of power.”
A soldier rapped on the half-open door.
“What is it?” Bright demanded, annoyed at the interruption.
“The plane from Hong Kong has arrived, sir. Marlon Good is waiting to see you.”
Bright set the empty glass down. “Send the fool in.”
Be nice, the Entity warned. We still need his money and technology.
“For now.”
A moment later, Marlon Good appeared in the doorway and gave a funny little salute – like a boy playing soldiers. Major Bright ground his teeth, but made no comment.
“You have the boy?” he said.
“Of course,” Good replied. He walked to the middle of the room and flopped into the chair as if he were exhausted. “Hard night’s work, though.”
“You threw one of my men out of the plane.”
“I had to make a point. Shake the kid up a bit.”
Bright moved closer. “If you ever touch one of my men again...”
Good’s eyes widened and he flinched back, as if certain the major was about to strike him. The blow didn’t come. Instead, the anger drained from Bright’s expression and he took a long breath before taking a couple of steps back – almost as if something internal had pushed a pause button on his anger.
Good produced a USB drive from his pocket. “I got the HIDRA database,” he said hurriedly, eager to please.
Bright’s expression hardened again and he snatched the drive from Good’s fingers.
“Well?” Good asked. “Did I do okay?”
“Yes,” Bright said grudgingly. “You did good, Good.”
He walked to a computer by the wall, inserted the drive and opened up the stolen datasheets. He scrolled through scores of files giving details of virus-altered children. Everything was here, from details of their special abilities to contact addresses and next of kin.
Perfect, the Entity’s voice said inside Bright’s head. Perfect.
“HIDRA’s been busy,” Bright said aloud.
They have been using Sarah Williams to track down children with the viral side effects. It appears there has been a significant jump in their numbers since the destruction of the meteor storm.
“It took us months just to find the kid in Hong Kong,” Bright replied. “They’ve saved us a lot of time.”
Marlon Good rose from the chair and approached the computer. “Are you talking to me?”
Bright ignore
d him and continued to scan through the files.
“Did you get what you wanted?” Good asked.
“Certainly,” Bright said.
“Who are these kids? What’s so important about them?”
Bright looked round at Marlon Good and smiled a smile so cold, it actually made the American shiver a little.
“When we take over the world, these are the ones who need to die first.”
11
“Go ahead, Sarah. Use your power. I’ll understand. You don’t have to prove anything here.”
She gritted her teeth against her gumshield and flexed her fingers in the sparring gloves. Commander Craig stood a few metres away on the other side of the training mats, also dressed in a gi and a full set of sparring pads for their weekly karate session. Despite her protests (she was in no mood for a lesson after her altercation with Robert), he was insistent the session go ahead. Karate stops for no man – not even Major Bright. Now Craig taunted her with a grin, exposing his bright red gumshield.
“I mean, why bother learning to defend yourself physically—”
Sarah moved in fast, feinting with a strike at Craig’s head, then spinning round and delivering a leg sweep to the back of his knees as he raised his hands. The kick turned out ineffectual. Craig punished her with a back-handed strike to the side of the head that sent her staggering away across the mat.
“Nice idea, poor execution,” he said as he began to circle to the right. “You’ll have to hit harder than that if you want to take me down.”
“You’re really starting to annoy me,” Sarah hissed through her shield. She circled also, guard up, keeping a constant two metres between them.
Craig grinned. “Really? Then why not use your psychic abilities on me? Eh?”
“Because I want to kick your butt the old-fashioned way.”
She moved faster this time, aiming a kick at Craig’s stomach, which he blocked easily. Her follow-up move was unexpected, however: a direct punch at his face. The commander had to hustle to block it, by which time she was aiming a chop at his kidneys with her left hand. She made contact and Craig expelled a little air.
Sarah knew the right thing to do next – back off, reassess, strike again if there was an opening. But her blood was up. What had happened in the war room, Wisher, the argument with Robert... She wanted to take it out on someone and had decided that the commander would do just fine… Spinning, she angled her body round to deliver a roundhouse kick to his upper body…
Craig caught her leg and yanked her off balance. Stupid, Sarah thought as she was pulled round. The commander threw her with more force than normal for one of their sparring sessions. With a cry of surprise and a little pain, Sarah tumbled across the mat and hit her spine against one of the wooden benches that lined the edge of the unarmed combat classroom.
Groaning, Sarah spat her gumshield into her hand and rubbed her lower back. She got to her feet and turned to where Craig was standing…
He wasn’t where he’d been a second ago. Momentarily confused, Sarah looked left, towards the exit…
And that’s all Craig needed. He moved in low from the right, locked his left arm around her throat and squeezed. Helpless, Sarah placed her hands against his forearm and tried to pull it away. No use. He increased the pressure in response. Craig was stronger than her, plain and simple. But you don’t have to be the strongest to win a fight, she reminded herself of his words from a hundred combat sessions. Just stay focused.
“You’re hurting me,” Sarah said as he dragged her back towards the centre of the mats, all the while keeping his arm locked around her throat. “I can’t breathe.”
“Then do something about it,” Craig said. There was a hardness to his voice that she hadn’t heard before. “I thought you wanted to kick my butt.”
“Let me go and I will.”
Craig laughed harshly. “That’s not the way it’s going to be today.”
Her eyes widened as he brought his right hand up, revealing a ten-centimetre-long combat knife clutched in his fist. Where he’d got it from, she didn’t know. Training sessions never involved real weapons. Her heart raced. Craig shifted his left arm around her throat slightly, exposing her windpipe as he brought the blade closer.
“Just how fast are you, Sarah? Think you can control my mind before I cut your throat? Can you do it when you’re panicking?”
“Stop,” she said, trying to control her breathing. “I want to stop this right now.”
“If you want it to stop, take me out.”
He touched the cool blade against her skin and then held it away, but still at the ready. Sarah wanted to cry out or protest that he’d gone too far – but she could tell the commander would not listen. Whatever point he was trying to make, she wouldn’t get out of it like that. Clearly this was some kind of graduation lesson.
Or maybe he really had gone crazy.
She tried to make contact with his mind, but the commander seemed to sense this, because he tightened his grip around her throat yet again.
“That’s not going to work, Sarah. You’ve got one second before I finish you. Let’s see—”
Sarah rammed her heel down on Craig’s right foot – hard enough to cause him some pain. His grip slackened just fractionally, giving her some wriggle room. She jerked her head back violently, away from the blade, and made contact with his face. There was a crunch of cartilage as the back of her skull crushed his nose. Sarah made her body go loose. She slipped down, out of his arms, and rolled forward and round into a defensive crouch. The commander almost stumbled, but kept his balance. She’d hurt him. Good, thought Sarah.
“Are we finished?” she said as Craig wiped at his bloodied nose with his left hand.
“Not by a long shot.”
The commander moved with alarming speed, swinging the blade at her. Sarah had anticipated the attack, however, flipping backwards and rising to her feet. As Craig swung and missed, she kicked him in the back of the leg – with enough force to drive him down to one knee. This time she backed off, expecting him to swing at her with the knife, which is exactly what he did. She retreated, keeping her guard up. With a yell, Craig ran at her, trying to break her composure by swiping the knife before him as he came. Sarah sidestepped his wild attack and danced back across the mats. The commander lurched round and the blade whistled through the air just centimetres from her face.
Enough of this, she thought. Craig lunged again…
“Stop!”
Sarah held up her hand. The commander carried on moving in her direction for just a second before his entire body locked up. He stopped, still as a statue, knife held out before him. His body was frozen – his mind completely under her control. A single drop of blood fell from his injured nose and hit the mat between his feet. Sarah took a few deep breaths, slowing her heart rate, trying to ease the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“Are we finished?” she said again.
Craig spoke with some effort. “It’s not over…until I say…it’s over.”
Infuriated, Sarah considered walking out of the training room and leaving him like that – frozen like a statue. It was as much as he deserved for the stunt with the knife. But she wanted to beat him. She concentrated again.
Against his will, Commander Craig began to move his knife arm, bringing the weapon round towards his own throat. Veins on his forehead bulged and Sarah could tell he was resisting her with all his might – but it was no use. She stopped his hand when the blade was just a centimetre from his throat.
“Are we finished?”
The corners of Craig’s mouth twitched as he tried to grin. “You’d…better…kill me.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Sure you really mean that?”
She made him move the knife so the blade was actually making contact with his neck, just to prove her point.
“You…won’t…do it…”
The blade pressed into his throat. Sarah felt him fighting back, but wouldn’t let him off. However,
she sensed if she pressed any harder, she would really injure him.
A thin line of blood appeared at the edge of the blade and trickled along the metal…
“Relent!” Craig said.
Sarah released him immediately. The commander dropped the weapon from his neck and staggered forward, although he managed to keep his balance. He touched a hand to his throat.
“Did I hurt you?” Sarah asked with real concern.
Breathing deeply, Craig shook his head. “Barely a paper cut.”
Sarah was relieved to see his tone of voice and expression had returned to normal: the cool, always-in-control teacher she recognized from their training sessions. But that didn’t make her any less angry – whatever point there was in bringing a real knife to a lesson, she didn’t see it. Sarah ripped off her sparring gloves and threw them at her feet. “I don’t want any more sessions if that’s the way you intend to run them. What was that with the knife?”
“The most important lesson you can learn,” Craig replied. “Outside this room, there are no rules. No backing down. You want to fight men like Major Bright, you’d better be prepared to go all the way.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” Sarah said petulantly. Craig’s words reminded her of the argument she’d had with Robert – and she didn’t like it. “I’ve fought and beaten Bright before. And Makarov. I saved your life in the process, I might add.”
She strode past him on the way to the door.
“Going to sit in the dark again, Sarah?” Craig called after her. “Hide out in Bay 6?”
She stopped and turned back to him.
“It’s time to make up your mind what you’re doing here, Sarah. Are you in the fight or sitting it out? There’s no middle ground.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nobody’s asking anything of you, Sarah. You want a normal life? You want to be a normal kid? Fine. Say the word, and we’ll have you shipped out to a place where you’ll never have to worry about Bright or the Entity or HIDRA ever again.” He turned the knife over in his hand and then threw it at the floor. It embedded itself, point first, in the mat between his feet. “But if you’re going to be here, you’d better be prepared to finish the fight. Simple enough for you?”
