REV- Renegades

by T. R. Harris

  “He believes in the cause.”

  Hamilton laughed. “You can go ahead and say it, doctor: Unlike me who only does it out of greed and a need to stay relevant.”

  “Can we get to the matter at hand?” asked General Randolph. “How do you see the numbers lining up in your committee?”

  The senator took a seat.

  “Very good; right to the point. As you know, the New Congress is all riled up about the recent change in the status of the war. Seemingly overnight we have been set back fifteen years or more, and all thanks to a few of your renegade REVs, Dr. Cross. There’s a pretty hefty majority who feel turning Murphy and the others over to the Antaere will help the situation more than hinder it.”

  “The Antaere don’t give a damn about Zac and his men,” Cross countered. “It’s all a big propaganda ploy to get the Grid on their side.”

  “And turning the REVs over to the aliens will have the same effect, but for our side. We call the destruction of the Temple of Light a rogue operation and give up the participants. That should shut down a major talking point of the Antaere campaign against us. As the general can attest, it’s not the military power of the Antaere that’s changed, but the support both parties are receiving from the worlds between Earth and Antara.”

  “But it wasn’t a rogue operation,” said Cross. “It was fully sanctioned and meant to help end the war, not lose it.”

  “But it was a secret mission,” said the senator. “That’s our only saving grace. Very few people knew of it, so it will be easy to claim Murphy acted alone.”

  Cross shook his head. “Not too many people will believe that.”

  “Enough will…because they want to. The various native populations are not anxious to make enemies out of the Humans, just as they’re now rallying with the Antaere out of self-preservation. They would just as soon remain neutral, and if we give the yellow bastards the REVs, then the native populations will have a good excuse to call it even and sue for peace. By the way, where are your elusive renegade REVs these days?”

  “I haven’t a clue,” said Cross. “The Grid is such a mess that they could be anywhere. But considering the current climate here on Earth, this is the last place they would turn up.”

  “Yeah, of course.” The two men locked eyes before General Randolph broke the trance between the alpha males.

  “The Antaere don’t want peace, not anymore,” he said. “And they’ll continue to use any excuse to turn their colony worlds against us. If not Murphy and the temple incident, then it will be something else. And now we have the Purges to deal with.”

  Senator Hamilton nodded. “Yes, our alien friends have played that part of the game masterfully. By declaring that the execution of a hundred thousand natives on each liberated world would absolve all sins for those who supported us earlier, the Antaere have essentially killed off any resistance to their rule. And letting the natives pick the hundred thousand hapless victims themselves, that was pure genius. It has turned neighbor against neighbor, each trying to prove that their loyalty to the Antaere is greater than the other. Any resistance that previously existed on the planets has vanished, leaving us isolated in the Grid.”

  “That’s why the Antaere have no reason to back off, even if they get Murphy,” said the general. “They have the upper hand now and are not about to relinquish it just because we give them four of our REVs.”

  “I repeat, general, many in my caucus are saying that turning Murphy and the others over to the aliens can’t hurt. Sure, the Antaere will keep harping on the destruction of the temple but having those responsible for the tragedy in custody and facing justice will take a lot of the steam out of their argument.”

  Cross listened to the debate between the senator and the general with growing frustration. He knew how unique Zac and the other three members of his team were, and that was the real reason the Qwin wanted to get their hands on them. It was no secret the Antaere were working on their own REV program, but until now had been unsuccessful. Although they could extract trace amounts of NT-4 from the bodies of dead REVs, either their physiology was incompatible, or they hadn’t yet learned how to adjust the drug to their alien chemistry. Yet Zac and the others were unique. They were the end-goal of the REV program, superior killing machines who could think and operate as a team. If the Antaere learned how to create REVs like Zac, that would be a sea-change event in the war.

  For the past twenty years, the Antaere had been fighting defensively, as the Humans and their new-found allies advanced through the ES worlds. But now the aliens had taken the initiative and would be going all out from this point on to create their own REVs.

  “And besides,” Hamilton was saying, “with the current complexion of the war, there’s not much use for the REV program anymore.” He held up his hand to stop the protest coming from Cross. “That’s not my belief, but it is that of many of my colleagues. The bean-counters are looking at the three-hundred fifty thousand adjusted dollars it takes for each activation, including the Twilight and RG-9. That’s not just for combat Runs, but also for maintenance treatments every two months or so. And when you add in the support units and the training program, that’s a pretty hefty price-tag to support a little over two hundred active REVs, most of which no longer have a mission.”

  “Some of them are still useful, even in a defensive role,” said Cross.

  Hamilton smirked. “Yes, I know of the heroics of the late Gunnery Sergeant Arturo Garcia; General Larson won’t shut up about how he saved his unit from certain death.” The senator laughed. “I suppose sending all the REVs out on suicide missions would solve our problem. And they’d all go out in a blaze of glory, which would be a fitting end to Dr. Slater’s dream of an army of superhuman soldiers.”

  “We’re working on new strategies to utilize the REVs,” General Randolph pointed out.

  “And when you do, let me know. At least then I’d have something to fight with.” Hamilton squinted at Cross. “But I suppose you’ve already made a breakthrough, haven’t you, Dr. Cross? Five REVs attacked the temple. Now how could that have happened, unless the rumors of a new kind of REV are true? What do you say to that?”

  Cross stood, his frustration reaching the boiling point. “Look you scum-sucking piece of shit, this program is too important to let politics—or your blackmail attempts—get in the way. We own your ass, Hamilton, so you better start working for us with a lot more enthusiasm…or we’ll find someone who will.”

  The senator was used to hard-ball negotiations and bursts of frustrated temper. He leaned back in his chair and smiled up at the red-faced scientist. “Relax, Cross, I’m not stupid. I know who butters my bread. I’m on your side…if the money keeps flowing. But do I have to remind you that we’re all in the same boat? I’m sure that what you’re doing here—in this super-secret research facility—is all on the up and up, but could you survive a Congressional audit? And you, General Randolph, the REVs are under military jurisdiction, yet you and the esteemed Dr. Cross seem to do what you want with them when you want, and with no oversight from Congress.” He sighed deeply. “So please, spare me your righteous indignation, both of you. If I go down, we all go down, and where would that leave your precious REV program then, Dr. Cross? As I said, we’re in this together, and I’ll keep up the good fight. But sooner or later you had better come up with a good reason for me to keep fighting for your side. I’m running out of arguments.”

  Senator Reece Hamilton placed his palms on the table and pushed himself into a standing position. “Now, Doctor Cross, how about a tour of your wonderful facility? This is quite a famous site, and I’d like to see what you’ve done to the place.”

  David Cross fought the urge to reach across the table and crush the skull of the overconfident politician. That time may come, but for now the senator still had value. David would give the pompous asshole the tour, but he wouldn’t reveal the true purpose of the facility. Even General Randolph wasn’t privy to that, at least not the ultimate goal Cross
had for the REV program—if he could keep it running.

  6

  It was called the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, and at one time had been the headquarters for the North American Aerospace Defense Command, otherwise known as NORAD. In it’s heyday, the massive underground facility supported several thousand workers—both military and civilian—and was considered the most-secure site in the American military arsenal. It was designed to withstand a nuclear explosion a mile away, and pictures of its iconic double three-foot-thick security doors were famous throughout the world. For the past fifty years, the site had sat shuttered, its thick concrete walls outliving its utility, until it was recently acquired by a private firm, ostensibly as a storage facility for rare works of art and documents of historical importance. In fact, David’s obscenely rich benefactor had purchased the complex, allowing the scientist to carry on his research in private, research which included the quest for the superhuman.

  David’s main facility was in Denver, and the trip to the mountain retreat was under an hour away by hovercopter. He had stocked the complex with loyal and talented medical personnel and was already bringing in the younger crop of naturals resulting from the latest version of NT-4. Very few people were aware the drug had been modified, a recent change Cross introduced to build on the results of the 31-C program. The older version had only been a slight tweaking of the chemistry and was introduced to the REV community six years earlier. The result was Zac Murphy and the other six senior REVs who had tested positive for producing their own form of natural NT-4. Two of those precious few were now dead—Michael Brickey and Arturo Garcia. It was Cross’s sworn duty to make sure the rest of his 31-Cs survived long enough to be fully evaluated.

  And if it meant dealing with the obnoxious senator from California in a most serious manner, then so be it. His work was too important to do otherwise.

  David Cross had declared ignorance when asked about the whereabouts of Lt. Zac Murphy and the other three members of his one-of-a-kind team of REVs. The truth was Murphy and Price had landed at the Travis Spaceport in California two days ago and were being secretly driven to Colorado and the Cheyenne Mountain facility at this very moment. Although no official arrest warrant had been issued for the men, that appeared to be only a matter of time. And no one would complain if the REVs were detained at some secure military prison until that time came.

  What Cross knew—and others didn’t—was that there weren’t a lot of places that could hold the REVs, even when not activated. The possible exception was the scientist’s concrete lair. What had originally been built to counter the evil in the world, would now be repurposed to keep the deadliest elements of humanity safely locked away and under Cross’s control until he was through with them.

  Both Cross and Hamilton grated on each other’s nerves so much during the tour of the facility that the politician eventually called an early end to the visit and was quickly whisked away back to Denver. That was Cross’s intention; Zac was due to arrive within a few hours and it wouldn’t pay for the senator and the REV to bump into each other.

  7

  Lt. Zac Murphy and Gunnery Sergeant Angus Price had come into the Travis Spaceport disguised as a pair of transferees hitching a ride back to the homeworld. They were dressed in civilian clothes and carried papers with false identities. Colonel David Cross had clout in the service and it was showing. Even so, the pair of REVs were lucky to make it back to Earth. The other two members of the team—Donovan Ross and Kyle Johnson—got caught up in the confusion spreading throughout the Grid. Their ship had lost its escort and been forced to seek refuge at the main Human Enclave on ES-7. No one was leaving the settlement, at least not for the foreseeable future.

  But Zac and Angus made it through and were now in the back of a nondescript military van, zipping along I-80 in California at about ninety miles per hour, heading east.

  Zac was originally from Palo Alto, California, so he knew this stretch of highway well—or at least he once did. It came as a shock when he realized he hadn’t been to Earth for thirteen years. The road hadn’t changed much, but the makeup of the traffic certainly had.

  Zac and his fellow REV stared out the side windows of the van, mesmerized by the stylish vehicles as they sped past. All were electric-powered, and Zac and Angus would gawk at each from time to time when a car would pass by with the occupants engaged in a card game at a central table, as the autopilot guided the vehicle along at over a hundred miles per hour.

  Interstate-80 had been widened since Zac last drove on it, and since accident-avoidance systems were so advanced these days, most freeways no longer had speed limits. The inner lanes were designated for non-speed-restricted vehicles and Zac marveled as sleek, aerodynamic cars shot past them at nearly two hundred miles per hour. The middle lanes were for the more moderately-paced cars and trucks, those going under one twenty. Most were autopiloted and contained families heading to the mountains for the day, enjoying the ride as nonchalantly as they would on a train. The outer lanes were for the slower, manually-controlled vehicles, such as the military van, which didn’t have any of the fancy bells and whistles, and a cruising speed of only around a hundred.

  Zac hadn’t driven a car in nearly fifteen years. He was sure he could remember how, after all most vehicles these days were auto-driven and voice-controlled. It shouldn’t be too hard to learn.

  “So, this is the homeworld?” Angus asked with a touch of sarcasm. “The place we’ve been fighting for all these years. It doesn’t look like a place in the middle of a galactic war against deadly aliens.”

  Angus Price was from Earth, but like Zac, hadn’t been here in over ten years. His parents had come to America from England when he was three, and although he still carried a slight British accent, he was as American as Zac.

  “I guess,” said the senior REV. “You know I’m from around here, but my parents didn’t get out much. I did have a couple of years where I had a car, before joining the Corps. I got a chance to travel up to the mountains now and then.”

  “I grew up in Tampa. Not a lot of mountains around there.”

  The two REVs were dancing around the subject. Never in the past decade did they imagine they’d come back to Earth in anything less than a body bag. That unfortunate reality wasn’t something they talked about in the recruitment videos for the program. It was all sunshine and lollipops—along with the chance to kill a shitload of aliens.

  Zac had joined the Marines at nineteen and immediately volunteered for the REV program. The war with the Antaere was only three years old at the time, and already the REVs were gaining a reputation—or at least that’s what the news broadcasts relayed. They were the new special forces, the new supermen of the Corps. What they didn’t tell you was that once you passed all the screening procedures and could tolerate NT-4—the Rev drug—you were hooked on it for life. There was no going back. Whether you had a combat dosage or on a maintenance regime, Rev would be a part of your life until the end. And unfortunately, the end came much sooner to a REV than for the general population. Their average age was twenty-nine, with a life-expectancy of ten years or less in the field. For those who were released from the program, most came within the first two years of service. Even then, they required periodic maintenance sessions every couple of months just to keep from burning up. As far as Zac knew, no REV had ever retired from the Corps after doing his twenty. No REV had survived long enough to reach that milestone.

  Rev caused the body to run at higher levels, levels unsustainable without the strengthening effects of the drug itself. NT-4 was both the cause and cure, and without it, all REVs would die.

  All except those who somehow began to produce a version of the drug naturally within their bodies, people like Zac and Angus. It was a mystery why this happened, but apparently it had been going on for some time, even though Zac wasn’t aware of it. That was the purpose of his trip to Dr. Cross’s research facility in the Rockies. As the lead scientist for the REV program, Cross was just as anxious to le
arn the truth as was Zac.

  “Did you ever think we’d be here again?” Angus asked. He seemed particularly introspective since arriving back on Earth eight hours ago.

  “Not in a million years,” Zac answered honestly.

  After six-months of Marine training and a year of REV screening, Zac had been shipped off the planet to go fight the Antaere. He returned a year later for a checkup but was then sent right back out. That was the last time he was on Earth, and during none of his time in the service was he allowed to wander free among the general population. That was something a REV didn’t do.

  “I’m not quite sure how to handle all this,” said Angus. “It’s almost like we’re normal again.”

  “Yeah, except the one-hundred-eight-degree body temperature and blood pressure at two-hundred over one-fifty, we’re just like everyone else.”

  Angus didn’t smile at the snide joke. “I didn’t realize how different everything was until now.”

  Zac knew what he meant. Like most young men, Zac had once dreamed of a full life on his home planet, with a wife, kids, and a house…even a dog. He liked dogs. He enjoyed being outside and even envisioned mowing the lawn between tinkering in his workshop. He wanted to travel—but not to the stars—at least not initially. That was something that had been introduced to humanity eight years before he joined the Corps, thanks to the Antaere.

  Zac still had a year to go in high school when the war began. There was a lot of turmoil on the planet after that, as believers in the Order clashed with those who weren’t. Eventually, the aliens left the planet and a tense standoff developed between the remaining Human worshippers and those fighting the Antaere. Agreements were drawn up allowing the followers to remain on the planet and practice their religion, just as everyone else had a right to practice theirs. But they were not to interfere with the war effort. If they did, the Order would be banned from Earth for good.