“She can’t be. She can’t be.”
“Our deepest apologies,” Venloran said.
The two of them looked at Luis with sorrowful expressions. Luis balled a fist in anger as his brow furrowed. He let out a yell that rang in their ears, swiping one arm violently across a tray, knocking it over, and spilling bloody operating tools and red-stained cloths to the cold sterile floor. Kane took a step back, genuinely startled. Venloran remained motionless.
The cyborg trudged closer, his eyes blood red and watering. Luis felt his head spinning. This isn’t possible. She’d stabilized before their departure. This shouldn’t have happened. The soldier stood over Bia and gripped her hand. Somewhat cold, but still warm. She couldn’t have died even an hour ago. Venloran saw Luis studying her face and offered some comfort.
“Unit 18, her body was frail. After taking so much, she just couldn’t go on.”
The cyborg’s eyes twitched in response to that, but he wouldn’t give it up. He couldn’t. He’d told himself to keep an eye on her, but somehow felt he had failed. Me, fail? I never fail. He turned to his Commander.
“Can’t Krenzler save her? Like he did me?”
Kane stepped closer, shaking his head.
“Luis, that procedure takes months of testing before the initial phases can even begin. That aside, no one can be brought back from the dead. She’s gone. I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.”
Luis looked back at Bia now, and then fell to his knees next to her bedside. The two men left him to his own. The cyborg didn’t notice. It was as if the world had confined itself to just the two of them. Luis let the tears escape. He rested his face on hers as he ran his hand gently through her hair. A broken man, he lowered his head to her chest, waiting for a sound, knowing he would not hear anything, but desperate to do so. She had been so warm before, so soft to touch, her body so elegant. Now because of his incompetence she was cold, and it was hammered it into his being that the warmth would never again return. My incompetence.
***
Kane and Venloran left the room. Mitch, Hans, Cisco, and others rushed past, but Venloran stopped Mitch for a moment. The others halted as well, not daring to defy their Chancellor.
“You all may see her,” he said, “but give Unit 18 a moment.”
Mitch’s was dumbfounded, but he said nothing. He nodded, and the others crowded around the door. Once outside of hearing distance, Kane spoke freely to his Chancellor.
“Do you want me to contact Krenzler?”
“No, there’s no need. We’re on the verge of civil war. We’ve already lost one cyborg and the incident is under investigation. I need our soldiers to know why they are fighting more than ever. I want him to make that realization himself. The cyborg will no doubt double his efforts I’m sure.”
“Civil war, Venloran,” was all Kane could manage. His own head was spinning. What he’d ordered was incomprehensible, but Venloran was so composed. The wound left on Luis would never truly heal, and yet it scarred Kane just as much.
“That’s quite a statement.”
“The implications seem far off, I know, but there are troubling signs. Two incidents have now occurred, both incredibly close together. This one may not have been the public catastrophe the other was, but in its own ways this one is damn near worse.”
“You seem fixated on one specific outcome though, and I don’t know why. It’s never happened before and it won’t happen now.”
“I am aware, but I refuse to leave any possibility unprepared for, Kane. Even one as drastic as this particular one.”
“And that’s why you are the Chancellor,” Kane said confidently. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” Venloran commanded, “ready cell 0869.”
Chapter 15 - Pathetic Condition
January 11, 2044 - “City of Peace” Jerusalem
All around him, his enemies were fleeing into the smoke. Atop the Dome of the Rock, the soldiers turned and fled. Their aim had been set on Will. One ran past him but abruptly halted and returned to hover over him. In a moment of stillness, Will could see the man’s face clearly. No, not a man. A teenager perhaps, but not a man. Will lay there helplessly. The man exhaled gently, aiming his weapon down at him and right at his chest. He muttered a few gentle words, without scorn and anger, almost in a soothing manner. Even as the man prepared to administer mercy, Will’s broken body wished for only one thing: to wrap the man’s throat in his hands. He wanted to strangle the life out of him, cut his eyes out with his knife, and pound his head into the pavement.
The familiar sound of propeller blades whirring tore the soldier’s gaze upwards and he too fled. Breathing heavily, Will drew his sidearm, aimed, and got off a couple of shots, with no fruit. He allowed his ragged carcass a rest and looked over at Val. Her eyes were shut, and she was still breathing, but slowly, and more sporadically. He estimated she had but a few moments left. Bryan was already an addition to the body count. The Dome of the Rock loomed in the distance, the only thing standing where so many men and women had fallen.
It was then he remembered what Bryan had said back in the alley. He had been willing to make that sacrifice for Will and his family, and in the end, he’d forsaken his own life. Will felt the box, still inside his pocket.
Tears ran down his face, mixing with the blood. His friends were gone, forever. Will knew he couldn’t let them down. No matter what happened, he would make sure Valerie got that ring. He had to. A gift from the dead to the dead, but he made a promise, and it was worth whatever strength he had left. As Will began to crawl over to Valerie, his vision began to blur. Did it matter if a body received a final gift? Yes, it matters you ass, just...do it. Despite his fierce motivation, his wounds weighed him down. No matter how hard he fought, he was still losing. Hold on, he told himself, hold on, hold on! He felt as if his head had been stomped on. He lost consciousness.
***
Location………
Target Estimate.......
Room Temperature.....
..........uploading data...please wait.....
A few seconds of emptiness. Will assumed he could hear, but he couldn't actually be sure, because at the moment, there were no sounds to be heard. Perhaps he wasn't even awake. Maybe he was still inactive, which would make this one of his hallucinations. But he'd never experienced one like this: so black and empty. All of this was interrupted by a single blow to his face. No, he felt that for sure, heard a voice as well. This was no dream.
“Wake up!”
Finally, the light returned to his eyes albeit all at once. His pupils stung slightly. They adjusted, but he noticed it took a lot longer. As long as a normal human, Unit 21 observed. That, and his heads-up display was non-existent. He looked around. The room was small and dingy, its walls a collage of different shades of brown, with the occasional splotches of black. The floor of this nine-by-twelve room looked like smoothed concrete. On it were several wires running along the floor, attached to a laptop across the room on a countertop. He was on a table of sorts, but it was an up-right position, not unlike a Boris Karloff film, he compared.
Unit 21 saw that seven or so thick red and black wires crept around the table and seeped onto his back like vines. He could feel them along his back, shoulders, and neck. They were like leeches on his skin, especially since he was without any of his precious armor, or even a shirt. He felt strangely exposed. The cyborg saw it had been the lieutenant from earlier who’d slapped him, and noticed the man’s right arm was in a sling. Beside him stood the woman, and both were silent. The room’s only small lamp was beside the computer, so Will could only vaguely see them. They could however, see his smile in the dim light.
“How’s the arm?” Will asked the lieutenant with a smug look.
The man only scoffed, followed by a similar smirk of his own. He stepped over to Will, face-to-face with him.
“Doing all right. I'll admit you did a real number on me, but how ‘bout yours?”
The cyborg tensed, realizing he coul
dn't move at all. His arms and legs were strapped down pretty close to his body, held down with ordinary rope. Will couldn't reconcile what was going on. He couldn't even lift a finger, and his heads-up display was still not initiating. It was as if he was in limbo or the halfway point of standby mode. The cyborg winced. He was completely at their mercy now, a hostage to be bartered, or worse.
Much to the lieutenant’s delight, the cyborg put his head down in shame. He drew a handgun, aiming it directly at the cyborg's eye. The woman seemed alarmed now. The eyes of the cyborg were complex biomechanical masterpieces, but they also were their sole weak point. A bullet in the eye would be death, even for them.
“How's that feel, huh? I doubted that it'd work, but to see it finally did...”
Jacob chuckled, a strange feeling within him. The lieutenant felt no pride in their victory, only a strange feeling of ironic humor.
Will pressed hard right back.
“Yes, I'm quite sure your fellow soldiers would've wanted to see the success of your mission. Well done, Lieutenant. Now, finish the job.”
Jacob's eyes winced at those words, and cocked his gun on impulse. Will knew the only reason he wasn't being disassembled at this very instant, was that these bastards obviously had some type of procedure beforehand. Whether it be torture or purely business, he did not know. In either scenario, it took a bit of his tension away to mock the man.
“Shut the hell up!!” he yelled, striking Will’s head with the heavy gun a few times.
Each one was a light blow for the cyborg, but a blow all the same. The fourth strike drew blood from his scalp, and it dripped between his eyes. Now both men were enraged. If only he could grip his throat, if only he could rip himself free of this table. But he could not. The man raised his arm to strike again, but his sister stepped in, “Jacob, enough. Don’t let it get to you.”
She pulled him away gently, and they both sat down in the corner of the room. The cyborg only gave them a few seconds of his attention before looking down at the floor again, where droplets of his blood collected. A pitiful end for me, he thought to himself. To think they could turn a living weapon into a pile of uselessness was a disgrace in itself, and now he would have to endure whatever came next.
The metal door unlocked from the outside and in stepped two men. One was considerably younger and had a man bun of full, black hair. Thin and unconditioned, he seated himself at the laptop and instantly glued his eyes to the screen. The other man was well over his seventies, with a cul-de-sac and snow white goatee. The use of a cane gave him a frail appearance. At the sight of him, the other two soldiers stood up, awaiting orders. Will watched all this closely.
“I want you two outside for this one,” he said sternly, “all right?”
While the woman only nodded and began to leave the room, the lieutenant hesitated.
“But, sir, I…”
“Go now. The infirmary could use some help from you both right now anyway. I'll call you if there's anything I need.”
The lieutenant did as he was told. As they shut the door, the metallic locks re-engaged. The old man waited a few moments before he seated himself roughly in a chair, coughing hard. The other man rushed to his aide.
“Sir, are you sure you don't want to do this in a few hours? You should be resting.”
The older man took out a capsule and swallowed it, coughing up a bit more before waving him away.
“No, we’ve waited long enough on me. I’ll be fine.”
The man went back to his post at the computer, and the cyborg looked at the older one. That man has an air of familiarity to him. The elder noticed Will's gaze.
“You seem to think you know me the way you stare, Unit 21,” he said with a small smile, “I see you finally met my children, Jacob and Gabriella.”
“You’re all hopeless. My tracker is relaying my position this instant. You'll all be dead soon.”
Although, without his heads-up display, he couldn't even tell how long it'd been since that failed mission.
“That was the initial step after acquiring you, my boy. Removing that little device was the first priority before re-activation. You can thank my friend Alex for that one.” He looked briefly over at the man on the computer. “You can’t see it of course, but there’s a little nick on your back, right next to the lower vertebrae. Digging it out was a simple matter. As you might be guessing, it's now in a million pieces.”
“Obviously.”
“It was a modified version of a familiar weapon that crippled you. I’m sure you’ve heard of the technology: a controlled electromagnetic pulse. Of course, on a much smaller scale. The UNR uses a similar system to knock out enemy communications and such.”
“Clearly an effective prototype, leaving me to wonder as to why you haven’t produced it on a massive scale.”
“After the test run we might be able to, but our resources are limited. I’m amazed that you still haven’t asked the most important question, Will.”
“That being?”
“Why you’re still alive.”
Will thought back to that, and after a few seconds decided to keep his image maintained.
“Maybe your toy simply couldn’t finish the job.”
“With you down and out I was able to re-adjust your systems. If I wanted to, I could disconnect your key components, and you'd die all on your own. I haven't done that for a reason.”
Will interrupted him, piecing things together on his own.
“Complete bullshit. It would take a person who knew the inner-workings of a cyborg. Only Krenzler has access to those files–”
The old man countered by cutting him off this time around:
“That is the first lie you were fed. I wouldn't go so far as to call you a son of my own, but if there's anything I do know, it's my own damn work.”
What the hell could he mean by that? There was more to this old man than he thought previously, more to the whole situation. Now he paid mind to what this man had to say. It could be lies and utter bullshit, but he had to hear it. His next question was rather startling:
“Do you remember me, Will?”
The cyborg studied his face, but couldn't place it. His failure to do so felt like a slap across the face.
“No, I do not,” he said disappointedly.
“Dr. Robert Neeson. You would do well to remember that name.”
The man stepped closer, out of the dim light, and only a foot short of Will’s face.
“Don’t strain yourself, Will. It appears all the files of me, at least in the cyborgs’ databases, have been successfully deleted. This is going to make things difficult.”
“I still don't fully understand, sir.”
“Yes, I know. What I've done is solely for retribution, or for what others might call atonement. My name was once in headlines for developing the perfect medical miracle years ago. I was the head of Weapon Program-II back then–”
“And Krenzler replaced you. Why so?”
“I was ‘let go’ in the words of our marvelous Chancellor, for a reason I cannot say as of yet. My colleagues believe I moved away to London years ago, along with my family. That’s all you need to know at this juncture.”
Neeson knew he had to be particular about his words. If he laid too much on him, it could endanger the whole operation.
“Are you sure you want to hear everything that I have to say? I won’t lie to you and say that everything will sit well with you. You may in fact, find it disturbing. Understand that while the Chancellor orchestrated everything, I've done my share of wrongs in all of this. I only say now that I hope you forgive me.”
Will shrugged the man’s emotions aside.
“Well don't keep me waiting, Neeson.”
The old man shook his head.
“You truly have no idea. Venloran made it that way, though. It's gotten worse since I've been gone.”
“So far all you've done is ridicule our Honorable Chancellor, a crime I guarantee you, never goes unpunished. No wo
nder you were terminated.”
“Your precious Chancellor has deemed it humane to make your sole life mission to serve him. You were one of the ones needing constant velocicide treatments right before that debut mission and several afterward. The whole reason you and I are even discussing this right now lies in that substance.”
“You were the head of Weapon Program-II before Krenzler, as you say, am I right? So it adds up then, that you must be the one who created velocicide. In that regard, I thank you. Many of us had would have lived tattered lives if not for you. You gave us focus and removed the distraction from our work.”
“It’s not a simple stimulant, as you seem to think. It augments your reflexes further and further, but at the cost of destroying yourself. Velocicide specifically targets the hippocampus. Just how much of you remains, depends on the dosage level.”
“And how I’ve ascended. My life has a purpose grander than anything you've done here.”
Neeson put one hand in his pocket, leaving it there as he spoke on.
“If only you could see your family. They’d say differently.”
Will was convinced now that this Neeson character's only objective was to turn him against the UNR. He would not compromise, and he would not let a shred of doubt seep into his mind. But then it happened. Out of that pocket, Neeson pulled out a single ring. The cyborg felt goosebumps rise on his skin when he saw it.
“Those dreams that have afflicted your entire service with the UNR are not just dreams. They are your surviving memories. The ones that for some reason refuse to die. ”
Neeson could see that the look of pride had shriveled away from Will’s face. The old man had wanted to be as delicate as he could about this matter, but even those few sentences seemed to shatter the soldier’s world. So all that pain, those tears, it was real? It all seemed beyond his comprehension. Will wanted so badly to hold that ring. But in his pathetic condition, it would just slip through his fingers and fall beside those droplets of blood. When the cyborg said nothing, the two men prepared to leave.
Reverence Page 14
