by T. C. Edge
“They’re something else, these synthetics,” he said. “I fought one. We did,” he added, glancing back to the falcon. “Maddox and me, two other Panthers, two of the President’s personal guards. We couldn’t stop him. It took all we had just to hold him off long enough to get away.”
“Yeah, that’s what we’ve heard from Slattery and Jason,” Nadia said. “They sound almost…unkillable.”
Ragan didn’t dispute that. Unkillable. How could they fight soldiers like that?
“And that’s why we can’t delay,” Ragan said. “If we disable their facility, then we eliminate their ability to create more synthetics. After that, we’ll only have those already at large to deal with.”
“Only,” said Chloe, raising her eyes. “Two dozen of those men are enough to topple nations from what we’ve seen…”
“Two dozen is better than a hundred, or a thousand,” Ragan said bluntly. “And that’s what we might be facing if we don’t take down that facility soon. They will multiply, and will strangle the life out of this continent. We have Rashmore who can liaise with his people. Maybe Colonel Slattery can contact his old superiors in the WSA military. It seems…almost fated that we’ve all come together out here. It’s down to us now.”
Chloe smiled at him as he spoke, that slightly dumb grin rising on her face. He noted the expression, stopped, frowned, and then offered her a querying look.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh…nothing,” she said, shaking herself from her reverie. “Just…it’s good to have you back.”
“I second that,” smiled Nadia.
“Third,” said Tanner, slapping Ragan quite forcefully on the back, enough to have him stumbling forwards.
“Er, thanks,” said Ragan, trying not to glare too sharply at Tanner, given the sentiment. “It’s…good to be back.”
The group glanced around, standing as a four on the quiet plains. It hadn’t been long, but Chloe felt forged to them now, bonded tight. It was amazing how much they’d been through already, the dangers they’d faced, the horrors they’d seen.
But still, they were back together, this ragtag group of rogues and outcasts. And looking around at them, Chloe didn’t want their journey to end.
In Tanner she saw the brother she’d never had, in Nadia the sister.
And Ragan…he represented something else entirely. Home, and happiness.
A future that, now that he’d returned to them, might once again become real.
108
Ragan stood at the rear of the falcon in rather odd company - a former colonel of the WSA military, a current captain of the Panther Force, an intelligence officer with no specific nationality, an ex-Spectre, and, most striking of all, the President of the NDSA.
It was an unusual grouping for sure, and though the falcon was quite accustomed to hosting men and women from different nations, this was taking it to another level.
Their task, right now, was straightforward, it not exactly simple - analyse the schematics, search out the facility’s precise location, and then arrange for its hasty destruction. To that end, they had the right men for the job. He hoped.
The previous thirty minutes had proven Jason’s worth - how fortunate they were to have the young intelligence officer with them. He was a whizkid with electronics, computers, and anything that involved research, information gathering, and surveillance. Though slightly bowed at first by Rashmore’s presence, he’d quickly settled into his role, one he was highly familiar with, taking up position at the briefing table.
The initial analysis had proven fruitful, Jason quickly dissecting the schematics, bringing up holograms that gave a more in-depth look at the facility. Though incomplete, and rough in places, the design was clear enough to identity the place as both a science and research centre, training base, and living quarters for soldiers and staff alike.
Preliminary designs for the upper floors even suggested plans for offices, recreation rooms, and much larger and more pleasant living quarters for more prominent staff. The middle floors appeared to have a military purpose, for the housing and training of soldiers.
The lower floors, in the depths, were those set aside for experimentation and research. Several laboratories suggested those utilised for the actual procedure of consciousness transference, while one appeared to be intended for storing the consciousnesses of those who’d been through the transfer.
Yes, there were many rough edges to the designs, a lot of it in draft stage, but it seemed clear enough that they’d discovered what they’d been searching for.
Now, however, came the second part of the plan - actually finding its precise location.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Jason said, tapping away, bringing up a large satellite image of Lake Michigan. He began zooming in, then overlaid the image with the map they’d discovered within the data sent by Commander Wexley. That map included a highlighted area, the assumption being that the facility would be somewhere within it; it seemed likely that at the time of creating these plans for their facility, the MSA weren’t entirely sure of just where they were going to build and situate it.
The area was bigger than Ragan had originally realised. A small portion of the lake, yes, but that didn’t exactly narrow it down. Lake Michigan was, frankly, enormous. The highlighted area in the south-centre of the lake, while only a fraction of the total body of water, was still large enough to fit a mid-sized city in quite easily.
“So that narrows it down, then,” Tanner said, arching a brow, scanning the map with skeptical eyes.
Ragan had already noted that his friend’s acerbic tongue hadn’t abandoned him after the attack by Mikel. He couldn’t be happier about that, nor at seeing him so oddly…normal, after everything that had happened to him. He suspected, however, that he was merely keeping his mind on the job for now, refusing to pay any attention to his recent disfigurement.
Soldiers were taught to put grief aside in the heat of battle, to ignore the pain of losing friends or family until they had time to mourn. Tanner was likely following his training in that regard. This - all of this - was probably a favourable distraction for him.
“So what do we do?” Tanner went on, now pacing around the table. “It’s all great and everything, knowing the layout of the facility, but that doesn’t help if we can’t actually find it.”
“We need access to live imagery,” Jason said, “now that we know what we’re looking for.”
“And what are we looking for, exactly?” asked Tanner. “Underwater facilities are notoriously hard to spot, I hear.”
“Well, it’s not entirely underwater,” Jason said, manipulating the hologram, drawing in closer to the very top floor. “You see this,” he said. “It’s an entrance floor, very small, and designed only to give access to the facility below. It’s essentially the tip of the iceberg, just a tiny hint of what’s beneath.”
“Right,” said Ragan. “Like the entrances to many earthscrapers.”
“Precisely,” nodded Jason, entirely in his element. “The floor has a specific purpose, and is intentionally small in order to go unnoticed. By the looks of these plans, it seems that it may also be retractable.”
“Retractable,” Slattery said, hovering nearby. “You’re suggesting the entrance level can be drawn into the lake and fully submerged?”
“Yes, sir,” Jason said. “It may be that the entrance only extends when someone arrives at, or leaves, the facility.”
“Well that’s helpful,” muttered Tanner. “How exactly are we ever going to spot it?”
“That’s why we need live imagery,” Jason said. “Even when submerged, the roof of the entrance level will be only a few feet beneath the surface of the water. Depending on conditions, it may be visible still as a shadow. We could do with getting access to old surveillance images of the area too, if there are any. It’s possible that we’d get lucky, and find a photograph taken by a drone or satellite, with the entrance floor extended above the surface. One of those two options
will be enough to point us in the right direction.”
Ragan pursed his lips, impressed. Jason had a sharp mind for such things, concise in his thinking. It was no wonder that Colonel Slattery thought so highly of him, and had elevated him so quickly.
“Right,” he said, “I may have a man for that job. Someone who can do it covertly, without us having to use any agencies in New York. I’m concerned they may be compromised.”
Jason raised his eyes.
“Yes, good point. Who do you have in mind?” he asked.
“Chloe’s contact in LA,” Ragan said. “He may be able to help provide access to live images and stored footage of the lake. I’ll go speak with him.”
Ragan turned, moving through the jet and towards the exit. He passed President Rashmore, who’d taken position at the front of the jet, sitting quietly in a chair. He still seemed a little shellshocked by the events of that night, Captain Maddox standing vigil nearby. The Panther had apparently taken it upon himself to act as the President’s bodyguard, in accordance with his duties within the force.
Ragan nodded to him as he passed, Maddox deigning to return the gesture. It was a curt exchange, the sort given between forced allies. Ragan had little doubt that Maddox still harboured a deep resentment for him that wouldn’t be flushed away by mere circumstance.
He stepped out into the cool evening air, and covered the short distance to the sparrow nearby. Climbing aboard, he found Nadia and Chloe sitting in the rear. Both held tablets, and looked to be going over the latest news coming in from New York and LA. Chloe’s eyes held a tense cast, though smiled upon seeing Ragan enter.
That blue…Ragan thought, losing a breath. And those lips…
He took a hasty step forward, as if pacing away from those lustful thoughts, and quickly approached them. Before he could speak, Nadia murmured, still staring at her tablet.
“I’m guessing you’ve heard?” she said. “President Arnold’s dead. Half his cabinet too.” She looked up. “I’m hoping you’ve got better news?”
Ragan let out a hasty sigh at the report, though wasn’t surprised by it. He did a half nod, half shake of the head.
“Sort of,” he said. “We’re certain it’s the facility, but don’t know exactly where it is yet.” He looked to Chloe. “We could use Dax’s help. Do you have the comms link?”
Chloe nodded, fished in her pocket, and tossed him the earpiece.
“I spoke with him earlier,” she said. “Told him to start leaking what we knew across WSA databases. I thought it would help in the search for the facility, you know, if the WSA agencies were looking as well?”
Ragan nodded, pondering the information.
“Er…I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” asked Chloe. “You look worried.”
“Oh no, not at all,” Ragan said, drawing a smile. “It was a good idea, Chloe. Hopefully they’ll be aware now that the attacks are being conducted by MSA soldiers.”
Chloe smiled.
“Good. I was just trying to help.”
He stared at her a moment, noticing that Nadia’s own gaze had returned to her tablet. For a second, it was just them, he and Chloe, looking at each other, alone. He felt a powerful urge to go towards her, sit next to her, hold her. Kiss her. God how he wanted that.
Not yet, he told himself. The mission always comes first.
Their mutual gaze, however, was broken by Chloe, whose eyes turned behind Ragan to the door of the jet. He looked back to find that President Rashmore was peeking in through the doorway, looking inside, with Captain Maddox just behind him.
“Um…am I interrupting?” he asked, finding the small gathering in the back.
Ragan swivelled, turning fully towards him, straightening out and standing to attention. It was odd that he intuitively behaved in that manner, given the rather tense words the two men had so recently shared. This was a man who blamed him for a lot of what was happening, and harboured a desire to see him executed. Still, Ragan tended to fall back on his instincts when encountered by an individual of higher - much higher, in this case -rank, whatever the circumstances.
“Um…of course, not, Mr President,” Ragan said. “Is there something you needed, sir?”
“Yes,” Rashmore said, looking towards Chloe. “I wished to have a word with Miss Phantom. In private, if you don’t mind.”
He stepped, uninvited, aboard the jet. Ragan turned to look at Chloe, whose expression had flattened out somewhat. He glanced down at her hands. They weren’t buzzing, thankfully. A least, not yet.
She eyed Ragan with a look that said she had everything under control, and then nodded. Nadia looked over at her, seeming reluctant to leave her side. Chloe gave her the same nod. Nadia stood from her seat, and along with Ragan, moved towards the exit.
“I’ll just make that call to Dax,” Ragan said to her. “If you need me, I’ll…”
She nodded again, and his words cut off.
Together with Nadia, he stepped from the jet, and set about making his request of Dax.
Chloe sat, staring at the man who’d murdered her father.
No, was that too much? He hadn’t really murdered him, as such. More, forced him into a corner, given him no choice but to take his own life. In a way, that was even worse, wasn’t it? To force a man to do that? To feel so afraid for his daughter’s safety that he had to send her away in secret? To kill himself to protect her?
Those thoughts came charging right through her head like a herd of stampeding elephants. She looked directly at President Rashmore, the arbiter of all her pain, and maintained that neutral stare. A simmering, building loathing rumbled through her at the sight of him, but she didn’t let it flow. She just sat there, watching him come forward, a spike of sudden…awkwardness beginning to radiate from within him.
“Do you mind if I sit?” he asked her, voice quiet in the silent jet.
Chloe nodded, though didn’t speak. As he took his perch, Remus, who’d been settled comfortably on her shoulder, stood back up, stiff and angry. He planted his skinny feet down, stared right at Rashmore, and lengthened his peak to intensify his expression. Yes, Chloe could maintain her poise, but Remus channeled her inner thoughts. If looks could kill…
Rashmore looked at the drone, not exactly intimidated by his posture. Like most others who encountered him, he appeared to be more fascinated. He studied him a moment, then uttered the expected sentiment.
“He’s really quite something,” he said. “Truly one of a kind.”
Chloe didn’t respond to that. She was already preparing an exit strategy for if the man crossed the line. If he dared say anything like he did earlier…she’d be forced to march away to stop from doing something stupid.
To that end, she noticed that Panther, Captain Maddox, lingering near the door, watching.
It wouldn’t take much for her to end Rashmore’s wretched life. A quick burst of power from her fingertips, and she’d tangle him up in her lightning web. He wouldn’t have the robustness to survive that.
Tempting, she thought. I’m surrounded by friends here. No one would have have to know…
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”
Chloe blinked, his words scything through her train of thought. She felt her rising anger quell suddenly, fading like a scent blown off on the wind. It was strange how words, sincerely delivered, could have that effect.
“I spoke completely out of turn,” he continued. “I respected your father enormously, Chloe. A lot of things happened back then that I’m sure you blame me for. And everything that’s happened since…well, it’s all been very regrettable.”
Chloe dropped her eyes, memories flooding her mind. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want an explanation. She wanted only to hate this man. She needed someone to hate.
“He killed himself because of you,” she said softly, looking down. “You forced him to work. You did all of this…Mr President.”
“I…can see why you’d think that,” Rashmore said after a long pau
se. “And if that’s what you want to think, then that’s OK. The truth, however, isn’t ever that easy, Chloe. There are always versions of it to consider.”
“There’s only one version of the truth,” Chloe said, lifting her eyes back up.
“And in this case? What is the truth?” asked Rashmore, his eyes regarding Chloe thoughtfully.
She leaned back in her seat, as it to put an extra few inches between them. A short breath puffed from her lungs. She wasn’t interested in having this debate right now. In drawing up these feelings, these memories. Couldn’t he just leave her alone?
“Well?” he pressed. “I imagine your version of the truth is different from mine, Chloe. You believe I forced your father to work, made him fear for his life, caused him to set that fire in his laboratory, to send you away in order to protect you. That is the truth you’ve been given. It isn’t the truth as I see it.”
Chloe fixed him with a stare.
“Then what’s your truth, sir,” she grunted.
He sighed, and shook his head.
“I don’t pretend to be a saint, Chloe,” he said. “But perhaps…and don’t take this the wrong way…but perhaps you didn’t know your father as well as you thought you did.”
Line. Crossed.
She lifted her eyes, a raging blue, and drew a sharp breath. The sudden fury on her face was clearly visible to Captain Maddox outside the jet, as he launched himself aboard, gun at the ready, apparently prepared to put Chloe down. Rashmore’s hand lifted right up, palm out to Maddox.
“Hold it there, Captain,” he said. “We’re just having a discussion here.”
“Sir? Are you sure?”
Rashmore nodded.
“Please, wait outside as instructed,” he said.
Maddox hesitated, but relented, stepping back into the night.
The brief delay had been enough, however, to settle Chloe’s anger back down. She deflated back into her seat, feeling almost foolish for her pathetic inability to control her emotions.
