The group nodded.
“Lee?” Reiser posed, opening the door and gesturing him inside. “Would you be so kind as to go first?”
Reluctantly, he agreed. Picking up his pant legs to climb into the confined space, Lee watched through the glass with a fair amount of nervousness as Reiser threw the latch to seal him inside.
“‘Cause this ain’t freaky at all,” he thought, feeling a twinge of claustrophobia as the light hiss of oxygen fell over his face. Moments later, his anxiety began to grow when a loud, high-pitched drilling sound rang out in his ears, followed by the dull, repetitive thump of the chamber’s mechanical activation sequence. As both sounds grew louder by the second, seemingly in concert with his escalating heartbeat and rapid-fire breathing, Lee winced when a thin beam of green light appeared at his feet, holding steady before crawling up his body in a slow, meticulous scan of his legs, torso, chest, and head. Steeling away when it flashed past his eyes, Lee’s fists clenched when a voice came over the speaker behind him.
“I need you to stare into the beam and remain as still as possible,” said Reiser. “This won’t hurt, but it will feel a bit unnerving. Just bear with me and it’ll be over in a moment.”
“Yeah, that helps,” he started to say, though before the first syllable could come, the light vanished back into the wall as the chamber fell eerily silent.
****
In an explosive blast of heat and compressed moisture, a massive plume of steam erupted from the vent overhead, filling the compartment with vapor and completely obscuring Lee’s view through the glass. Gasping a final breath as it saturated his skin and face—his pulse now racing out of control—Lee jerked hard when a sharp, constrictive burst ripped across his extremities, gripping and pulling at his skin in a pythonesque rush of sweltering force. Caught completely off-guard, he felt his whole body wrench against the pressure and he began to cough and gag—fingers flailing at his sides— when the sensation shot abruptly past his shoulders and into his neck, tightening around his throat like vice-grips on an egg.
Still, as much as everything within him wanted to break free of the chamber—away from the anvil on his chest and the crawling serpents at his arms and legs—he raced instead to recollect his composure and remind himself that, frightening as this was, it was all just part of the process—or so he’d been told.
Several agonizing seconds later, the violence clinching his body finally gave way to relief when a rush of cool air flooded the compartment, releasing the tension around Lee’s limbs and forcing the last of the steam out of the chamber’s base. Slowly, his view through the glass began to clear, and spotting the four sets of gawking eyes outside, he waited for Reiser to unlock the door.
****
“Dude, you totally look like a Power Ranger!” Link howled through the chaos of laughter from the others, not the least of whom was Mac who managed to catch her breath just long enough to muster a wolf whistle.
Still a little disoriented from the experience, Lee took a moment to inspect his reflection in the glass pane of a nearby window, studying every fiber and detail of the black unitard that now covered his body like a second skin. Meanwhile, the roaring scene behind him continued.
“Wow, Lee,” Mac snickered, not that her gaze ever left his newly sculpted physique—a fact not lost on Danny beside her. “That suit is… um… Well, it’s definitely a different look for you.”
“Whatever,” he scoffed, fanning the fingers of his black-gloved hand in front of his face, though definitely feeling a little exposed. “Okay Doctor, talk to me about this monkey suit you’ve got me in here. How exactly does this thing work?”
Reiser entered a final keystroke into the center terminal and returned his attention to Lee. “As mentioned, this is the actual M-suit, and in addition to allowing you all the abilities we’ve discussed, it will also give myself, Dr. Reynolds, and the medical team the ability to monitor your vitals during its usage.” He spun the monitor to face them, showcasing an array of charts and vital statistics from the full body scan he’d just run on his first subject. “Heart rate, blood pressure, even brain function; all of it will be closely watched and documented to chart both your progress as well as the suit’s performance under field conditions.”
“Yeah, about that figure-fitting part,” said Lee, sensing his cheeks beginning to blush. “Was that really necessary? I mean, I’m feelin’ kinda naked here.”
“For obvious reasons, the suit was designed to be worn underneath clothes—”
“‘Thank god,” murmured Link, never the gym rat.
“Therefore since I couldn’t design it with a material that would allow your body to breathe, I had to build in a climate control system that could sustain your core temperature at optimum levels while you were wearing it. That’s why you feel a little… well, drafty.”
Noticing a strange sensation on the back of his head, Lee traced his fingers along a small piece of hardened material that extended just above the suit’s turtleneck and up to the base of his skull.
“What is that?” he asked, studying it with his fingertips.
“That’s the neural interface,” explained the doctor. “In layperson’s terms, the sensors in that strip are designed to read and interpret the signals generated by your brain and translate them into usable commands which are then directed to your extremities, via the suit’s operating system, where they’re converted into the same physical movements that your mind has already mastered.”
Without warning, Reiser picked up a stapler and hurled it at Lee whose hand rocketed forward in a near-blur, halting the device an inch from his nose as the med-computer shrieked with the spike of his vitals.
“Nice reflexes there, bro,” Danny noted, admittedly a little impressed.
“Try something for me, Lee,” said Reiser. “Think about jumping into the air as high as you can, but don’t actually do it. Just think about it.”
Lee shot him a look of uncertainty. “Alright… but I’m not gonna go shootin’ through the ceiling or anything am I?”
“No,” the doctor laughed. “The suit isn’t designed to give you superhuman abilities. It’s merely built to replicate peak human condition and reflexes, so while you will be stronger, faster and more agile than normal, you won’t be any more so than an ordinary soldier in his prime.”
Satisfied with the answer, though still not totally convinced, Lee closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the others looked on with extreme anticipation of his next move. With a quick crouch and a forceful thrust through his legs, Lee lunged himself upward, leaping some 40-plus inches into the air before landing nimbly back on the balls of his feet.
“Check it out… white men can jump,” Link applauded through a chorus of cheers.
“Coooool,” Lee grinned, flexing his wrists and fingers, still adapting to the suit’s strangely non-sensational feel.
“Excuse me Doctor,” asked Hamish. “But ya said that the M-suits would make us stronger and faster than we were before, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Aye, that’s all very well fine and good as long as we’re using them; but what of these things once we’re weaned off of the spandex and working on our own? Will we keep our new abilities or will we regress back to our natural strength and skill levels?”
“That’s where the gene therapy comes in,” Reynolds added as she entered the lab. “In addition to helping your body get acclimated to these new movements and commit them to muscle memory, these injections will also serve to enhance the body’s efficiency with regard to the skill-mastery process.”
“More shots,” Danny groaned. “That’s awesome.”
Reynolds rolled her eyes. “To address your question directly, Mr. Lunley,” she continued. “The gene therapy will help facilitate this process by flooding your system with the necessary proteins and synthetic building blocks it needs to get you up to speed physically, but it’ll be up to you to maintain that fitness level once you have the boost.”
“No, not exactly,” Reynolds answered. “You may notice slight changes in build and muscle tone, but for the most part, you’ll look the same way you do now. All the gene therapy will do is give your muscles a…” She searched for the phrase. “A tune-up of sorts.”
“So who is our next volunteer?” asked Reiser, sending four hands rocketing into the air. Moments later, once the steam finally cleared, Mac shook off the disorienting effects of the synchronization process and emerged from the chamber to the less than subtle approval of her friends.
“Hellooooooo Mac!” Link announced, cupping his hands over his chest. “I don’t know who did that work for you, but I hope you paid him double, because damn!”
“All natural and proud of it, Frodo,” Mac sniped back, examining herself in the suit.
Once the others had taken their turns in the chamber, the five of them returned to the dressing rooms to change into their service unis, which covered the M-suits almost entirely, with the exception of their turtlenecks and gloved hands.
“Now if you’ll all follow Dr. Reynolds, she’ll escort you down to medical to get you started with your first round of injections,” said Reiser. “After that, we’ll all reconvene back here to begin working on a few basic exercises.”
“Actually,” Reynolds corrected, turning to a short young brunette in light blue scrubs. “Nurse Jamai here will take you down to the infirmary and get you squared away. I have to run over a few final things with Dr. Reiser before we get started, and I’ll be down to join you shortly.”
Nodding indifferently, the group followed Nurse Jamai out of the lab and down the hall to the lift.
“What is it, Madisyn?” Reiser asked, unaware that there was anything left to discuss.
“It’s about the gene therapy,” she whispered, careful not to alarm any of the other staffers who might be within earshot. “It’s kind of why I was late this morning.”
“Okay, what about it?” he said, not following.
Leaning over his shoulder to the lab computer he’d been working on, Reynolds navigated into the medical network and accessed a series of preliminary test results she’d run while on the Milky Way.
“What am I looking at here?” Reiser asked, adjusting his glasses to inspect a multi-colored comparison chart of two nucleotide sequences—each one seemingly indistinguishable from the other.
“Look,” said Reynolds, pointing to a single gene variant in the chains’ second unit. “It’s really subtle, so much so that I totally missed it in the scans I took of them back on Earth, but there are, in fact, slight genetic differences between the Earth and Auran genomes.”
Reiser gave her a confused look. “How is that even possible?” he marveled. “Earth and Aura are practically identical in every way, as are their various species of inhabitants—humans included, right?”
“The operative word there is ‘practically,’” Reynolds stressed. “Yes, each species is completely compatible with its alter-world counterpart, but they’re not identical. Infinitesimal as they may be, there are slight environmental differences between our two worlds. Factor into that hundreds of thousands of years of evolution through natural selection, and it only makes sense that this would lead to slight genetic differences between our two peoples.” Reynolds stood up straight and shook her head. “Honestly, Jon, I can’t believe I let this slip past me before.”
“So what does this mean for the gene therapy?” he asked, the concern in his voice beginning to show. “Will it still work?”
Reynolds shrugged. “I don’t see why not. They haven’t experienced any problems with any of the other drugs we’ve given them, nor have there been any adverse reactions to the nano-tech in their translators. Still,” she paused. “The gene therapy is far more invasive than anything else we’ve subjected them to, and while I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t take, there might be side effects to consider.”
Reiser lifted a brow. “What kind of side effects?”
****
“DUUUUUUUUUUDE!!!” Link boomed lethargically—like the others, all but overpowered by the uncontrollable state of giggling that gripped him. Meanwhile, Reiser and Reynolds hid their eyes in embarrassment as Katahl, Noll, and Ryan leered at the hilariously debilitated quintet through the isolation room glass.
“What the hell is going on, Doctor?” Katahl growled—the annoyance evident in his tone. “They’ve been laughing like a pack of hyenas for over an hour now. What’s wrong with them?”
“It’s perfectly fine, Admiral,” Reynolds scrambled to explain as Link fell off of his chair. “I promise you, sir, we’re doing our best to—”
“Dr. Reynolds?” asked one of the lab techs. “What’s a… Funyun?”
Reynolds wrinkled her nose. “It’s a type of snack food back on Earth, why?”
The lab tech stared ahead, perplexed, as an outraged Hamish pumped his fist at the glass. “Because the large one is extremely adamant that he would like six bags of them right away, and he’s threatening to quit the program immediately if he doesn’t get them. Oh,” she added, “and the small one has slipped his suit and is exposing himself.”
Her frustration rising, Reynolds brushed aside her hair and leaned into the intercom. “Just relax, Mr. Lunley. When this is all over, you have my word that we’ll get you some Funyuns, but until then I need you to settle down and let us get through this… Baxter,” she barked, “put your pants back on!”
“The others are being equally persistent, ma’am,” the tech continued. “They’re demanding at once that we get them pizza, nachos, bacon chili cheese fries, powdered doughnuts, and something called… White Castle? Oh, and beer. They’re very, very passionate about the beer.”
“Snacks, snacks, snacks, snacks!” the chorus of chants bellowed from below.
“This is just a temporary side effect of the gene therapy, sir,” Reynolds promised Katahl. “You have my word, it’ll be out of their systems in a few hours, and they’ll be cleared to report for duty.”
“I certainly hope so, Doctor,” Katahl said, unimpressed. “I’d rather not have to report back to President Wylon that we’ve turned our last hope for survival into a group of inebriated idiots on the floor of your infirmary.”
“Yes sir,” she assured him. “All signs indicate that this is purely a temporary reaction—exclusive only to their first injection. Just give us a few hours and they’ll be all yours.”
****
Once the pharmaceutical effects of the gene therapy injections had finally worn off (a mind-numbing, not to mention side-splittingly painful experience that left every square inch of his body aching for the better part of the day afterward), Lee and the others trudged through Reiser’s lab into a large side room that had been converted into a makeshift gymnasium. Filled with mat-covered floors, punching bags, and weights, the space was divided into a variety of training zones—all encircled by an indoor track around the room’s perimeter. Spotting Reiser at the track’s start/finish line, the group wandered over to meet him there.
“Before I hand you off to Sgt. Major Noll,” the doctor began, “I’d like to spend the next couple of days getting you acclimated to the M-suits themselves. First we’ll start with the basics, beginning with walking.”
“That’s easy enough” Danny noted. “We did that on the way in here, right?”
“No, Mr. Tucker, you physically walked into this room just as you would without the suit. Now however, I want you to do it exclusively with your mind, not your legs. In other words, just think about taking a few steps forward, but don’t actually do it. Understood?”
Standing still as he cleared his thoughts, Danny took a deep breath, raised his right leg, shifted his weight… and promptly face-planted onto the turf in front of him.
“Nice job, Crockett,” Link snickered. “I give it a solid 9.5!”
“Bet you wish you’d taken those Fred A
staire classes with me now, don’t ya, slick?” Mac added.
Annoyed, and definitely a bit embarrassed, Danny jumped to his feet, dusted himself off, and fired a quick glance across the room at Reynolds. Naturally, she was her usual, stoic self as she tapped away on her tablet, though for the briefest of moments, he could’ve sworn he’d seen a hint of a smile.
“Try it again, Mr. Tucker,” Reiser instructed. “Visualize yourself taking a step, nothing more. Don’t think about running, or even walking. Simply think about taking a step.”
Flashing another quick stare at the redheaded physician, Danny closed his eyes and took another breath. Then, raising his leg and shifting his weight, he exhaled and placed his foot down in front of him—this time to the cheering applause of Reiser and his fellow team members.
“Excellent work, Mr. Tucker,” the doctor said as Danny wobbled back to the starting line. “Now, let’s see what the rest of you can do.”
For the next several minutes, each of them took their turns at mastering the simple, though incredibly awkward act of walking without physically doing so before Reiser decided that they were ready to up the stakes a little.
“Anyone up for a little run?” he asked.
“I’ll take a crack at it,” Lee volunteered, though apparently to the chagrin of Mac, who voiced her protest with a soft, throaty cough.
“I don’t think so, oh high-and-mighty leader,” she said, shoving him aside and crouching down to take her position on the starting line, just like she’d done so many times before as a member of the high school track team. “How about you go stand over there and philosophize over something while the real jocks demonstrate how it’s done? Okay? Thanks.”
“You do realize, of course, that there are three lanes here, correct?” Reiser countered, amused by the idea of a little friendly competition.
Reminding himself that the exercise was, in this instance, significantly more mental than physical, Lee fought to psych himself up before joining her on the line.
Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) Page 28
