Untitled (Chapter II)

II

Joint Base Archer-Beaker

215th Brigade HQ

NOREASCOMATLFLT

Designation: RASCALS

2115 Hours

“Get him cleaned up. I want to see him first thing tomorrow.” Dirke was ashamed of his finest achievement, well, second finest at least.

“Sir, this man is in need of serious medical attention. It could take several days before he’s ready for an interview. Please reconsider, for his benefit.”

“Dr. Ngyun, you will see to it that this man is in my office at 0700 hours and capable of answering a few questions. Am I clear?”

“This is against my official advice, sir, and I will make a report to Major General Baques concerning the matter.”

“You make your report to whomever you wish to, Dr., but you make sure you have the time between reports to have your staff patch this man up enough get him upright and talking by 0700 hours. That’s an order, Colonel.”

Dirke was walking a very thin line and he was well aware of it. Col. Ngyun was a hardcore soldier, well liked and could be very stubborn when it came to taking care of wounded men. Dirke had never pushed his rank with Ngyun, and he knew that Baques had a few cards he could cash in if it came to it. Those cards were IOU’s from some of the highest levels at Gentech. Baques could very well be trouble but this man was no ordinary soldier, he was an AK and he belonged to Dirke or rather, ‘the company” as his superiors kept reminding him. That fact alone might keep Baques out of it, and he hoped it would be enough to keep Ngyun out too. But this was a dangerous game Dirke was playing. He waited for Ngyun to decide.

Ngyun sighed as he acquiesced to Dirke’s challenge, “Yes sir, we’ll do what we can.” It had been a difficult thing for Ngyun to do but Dirke had directly challenged his authority and he knew going against Gentech carried a hefty price tag. He had thought of his family and their position in life and could not bring himself to stand by his moral beliefs. It would benefit him and his family more if he conceded.

“Thank you, Gentech medical officers will be arriving in the morning. Do what you can until then. And remember to follow protocol. Keep his file sealed. No one is to examine him except you, understood?”

“Yes sir, Director.”

Dirke brushed past Ngyun and proceeded down the corridor. He had won that round and was feeling relieved it was over. His rank of technically outranked even that of General, but only under certain circumstances and only when it served Gentech’s purposes. He hoped Baques would not challenge his authority in this matter. It would not do well for the base’s commanding officer and the Gentech representative to be fighting. It would invite too much attention. And that could get sticky in a legal sort of way.

***

Rebel Controlled Territory

Formerly Wabash National Forest

Designation: Freedom Alley

October 5, 2042

0545 hours

Sarah had made camp about two miles inside Rebel lines. That put her a mere five miles from the small valley where she had taken out the drag… and the AK, she gloated, watching the moon setting to the west. Light from the east was chasing the darkness away quickly as dawn approached. It had been a cold night and a very chilly early morning for October. “October fifth”, Sarah said, directing her words towards a very confused looking chipmunk in search for his morning meal in the frozen underbrush. It didn’t seem to understand why the ground was already covered in snow; perhaps he had gotten caught lazing in the late Indian summer sun rather than stocking for winter; and nature had caught him off-guard.

“It’s my birthday, you know.” Sarah tried to smile as she looked at the small animal, “Want to join me in a song?”

The chipmunk stopped his search and looked towards Sarah.

“Well?” Sarah asked again.

At least she would have someone to talk to. She had grown tired of one-sided conversations over the past month. This had been a particularly lonely mission. Perhaps it was her birthday; perhaps it was the early winter… perhaps she was just tired. Whatever it was, it seemed like the past four weeks had been closer to four months. She wanted a hot shower, a hot meal and some good company… cut the mission short and head back, she pondered for a second, before she corrected her thoughts. The mission is first. She steeled her mind and returned her thoughts to the tasks at hand. Time enough for levity; now is the time for resolve. If this war is ever to end, now is the time to bring the pain to their doorsteps. Sarah threw the last of her morning cocoa into the ice cold stream running next to where she stood; then with renewed commitment she turned and started up the shallow bank towards camp. The morning sun was just beginning to peak over the eastern hills, creating shafts of orange-yellow light cascading through the forest trees and glittering off the frozen crystals of white. Sarah reached her small tent and knelt to grab her journal just on the other side of the small zippered front. She was already opening her book and pulling out her pen as she leaned back to rest against the log which had sheltered her from the harsh wind the night before. Her nostrils had been right. There was a fresh few inches of snow on the ground and the sunlight scattered into a myriad of colors as it struck the frozen crystals. Sarah took in the beauty for a moment as she opened her favorite book in the world and began to write, “Day twenty six…” Sarah sighed, and somewhere, buried deep inside her blood-soaked soul, twenty four year old Sarah Freeman prayed for peace.

***

Joint Base Anders-McPherson

214th Brigade HQ

NOREASCOMATLFLT

Designation: JACKHAMMERS

0615 Hours

“Tower this is hornet one, we are ready to roll; requesting liftoff authorization, priority Delta; destination Archer-Beaker 215, over.”

“Tower to hornet one, you are clear for liftoff. Rock and roll, boys! Tower out.”

“Hornet one to swarm, we are a go; hang on to your breakfast!”

“Hornet two; all systems are in the green. We’ll follow you out, boss.”

“Hornet three; rockets are hot. Let’s do this!”

“Hornet four; somebody say the word. Light this party up!”

“Hornet one to swarm, word is ‘hang on’! Engaging in 3…2…1…”

Commander Mazor felt the powerful lift-assist rockets engage as his pilot initiated liftoff sequence. The roar was deafening and the ship’s superstructure vibrated violently as its’ massive inertia struggled against the power of the booster rockets. Mazor watched the ground fall away as their acceleration skyward increased rapidly.

“Goddamn, I love this shit!” he yelled into his com. Behind him, four heavily armed men, strapped into small alcoves, grinned as the bone jarring reverberation washed over them.

From the tower, the duty officer watched as the four battle drags lifted off, lighting up the early morning fog as they screamed northward into the semi-dark sky. He was impressed to say the least. He had never seen a squadron of Gentech AKs ‘turn and burn’ before; this would be a morning he would remember.

“I wonder what it’d be like.” He thought out loud as he watched them disappear over the tree line.

“We’ll I, for one, don’t ever want to find out.” his second replied, “Being a Gentech experiment is too high a price for me.”

***

It was nearly dark inside the battle drag. There was just enough red light to outline four of Commander Mazor’s squadron seated in the rear compartment. It had already been an hour since liftoff. Gentech AK 1st Class Commander David Mazor turned toward his pilot, the colorful heads up visuals adding its flavor to the dim red glow. Overall the drag was smaller on the inside than you would expect. The thick hull was a layered design that was comprised of pockets of highly compressed gases alternating with a mesh of carbon fiber alloys and inch thick segments of highly advanced nano composites. The gas pockets were similar in concept to the explosive interactive armor of the twentieth century. Penetrating explosive missile payloads would be met with powerful charged explosive energies directed outward; enough to neutralize a significant portion of the destructive power in incoming warheads. Nano technology had delivered vast benefits in armored protection; light, extremely strong and highly thermal resistant, the battle drag’s hull was an impressive use of some of the most advanced technologies in the government’s arsenal. In addition to the armament, the hull had an EM wave bending meta-material as its outer skin rendering it near perfectly invisible to radar and offering substantial camouflage in the human vision range. Outside a quarter mile radius, it was little more than air to the naked eye; and even within that range it remained a difficult target to spot while stationary.

         Alongside its defensive armament, the battle drag sported a deadly array of offensive weaponry. In addition to its multiple anti-air turrets and small caliber anti-personnel machine guns, its main offensive weapon could deliver three thousand rounds of fifty caliber depleted uranium slugs per minute; enough to vaporize pretty much anything unlucky enough to be in the line of fire. Adding to that already impressive firepower, advanced FLIR guided missiles were capable of engaging any of the dozen or so asynchronous targets the drag’s guidance lasers were tracking at any given moment. And just as efficiently, those same lasers could act as guidance to friendly fire smart weaponry. This offered any task force forward targeting capabilities all from a camouflaged point anywhere in the field of engagement. Between the ship’s aerial prowess and its defensive and offensive muscle, it was unmatched on the battlefield and David was pumped to be in command of a squadron of these potent, aerial gunships.

         “Hornet leader to swarm, ETA is t minus 37 minutes. Security level is at three. I say again, Seclev three. Keep it low and tight. Hornet leader out.” David let out a slow sigh as he signed off the transmission. He would not hear a reply as he had just ordered radio silence via the level three security declaration. They were hugging the earth just three miles from a rebel enclave to their west now. He didn’t want to risk any communications intercept as they flew nape of the earth along the tree line. The battle drags’ flight systems were locked in sync with each other along a secure data feed. Each drag knew every flight move of all four drags at all times. Speed, course and defensive postures were all orchestrated by the linked system acting as a single organism. The system was an advanced version of the interstate communication link developed in the early twenty first century. Vehicles were digitally linked, removing driver error from the equation. Interstate ‘Trav-link’ was just getting rolled out along the mid-west and eastern sections of Interstate 90 as well as the Los Angeles corridors when the war broke out. But even in those limited deployments the system had already shown vast improvements in freeway travel times. Vehicles could easily travel at ninety mph compacted within just feet of each other. All because the system knew what every vehicle both in front and to its rear was doing at any given moment. A braking event thirty cars ahead would result in all cars braking in step with each other. Acceleration also occurred in all cars at the same time rather than the ‘accordion style’ gridlock in other metro areas where Trav-link was not yet available.

         “Lieutenant,” David spoke into his com as he turned to look at his second in command.

         “Sir.” He replied.

“Take them through a Mosler session; then run over the mission briefing. Let them know what we are going to be doing over the next week or so.”

“Right away, sir.” The lieutenant acknowledged as he activated the overhead visors aboard all four drags. A slight hum added to the background thump of the drag’s wings as visuals slid to eye level in front of each alcove. “Count back in five…” the lieutenant announced into the data feed.

Already, the Mosler subroutines were adjusting for the retinal pattern of each AK. The electromagnetic sensors buried within the armored helmets already coming to life. The sensors would feed critical bio-state data back into the system where it would be analyzed and used to make minute adjustments to each individual session. Biofeedback techniques had been used for nearly a century going back to the mid 1950’s. But advancements in quantum computing and Gentech genius had taken it to the next level. The AKs needed the capability of control the sessions gave them over their enhanced abilities. In fact, the first line of fully augmented subjects were prone to hurting themselves almost as much as the enemy. “Power without control was no power at all.” recalled David as he listened to the added hum in the vibrations surrounding him.

Dawn was approaching quickly and it was getting fairly light outside even despite the dense New England fog in which they flew. David glanced back toward the pilot, sitting snugly in the comfort of his seat, monitoring the visuals as the drag swerved and swayed seemingly effortlessly along the foothills they were skirting. The pilot’s helmet masked the upper portion of his face yet David could still make out the intense focus. Flying in thick fog was nowhere near the risk it had once been to aviators but even so, David held a lot of respect for them. Maybe it was the fact that as a boy he would sit on his father’s knee and listen as he had recounted stories of combat missions he had flown as a naval fighter pilot. His young mind had envisioned smoky missions over arid lands, the glow of missiles, the flames from guided bombs and superhuman men who had flown nose to nose against the enemy. Of course, as David had gotten older, he realized that missile power had long ago put dog fights out of business for the most part. The aircraft he had imagined his father piloting were not the canopy open, guns blazing prop propelled tin cans but in actuality they were the sophisticated precursors to the F-28’s that were in use today; the F-18 and the stealthy F-22. But despite that disillusionment he had great respect for his father and missed him quite often. So his father had ‘embellished’ for dramatic purposes, so what? Didn’t all fathers earn the right to remember it however they wanted to remember it?

“Quite a far cry from the F-16’s that once ruled the sky, isn’t it Capt?” David asked as he studied the pilot.

“Sir?” Pilot 2nd Class Wirther replied without taking his eyes off the computer interpreted terrain within the visuals.

“I was just thinking about my grandfather and the combat missions he would fly in the war.”

“The war, sir?”

“Against the Chinese in the Taiwanese Independence War back in 2015. My father was a naval pilot as part of the U.S. led coalition to protect Taiwan.” David noticed the pilot getting uneasy, “What’s the problem soldier?”

“No offense, sir, my parents were part of the anti-war movement back then that protested that ‘limited nuclear exchange’ crap.”

“I see.” David looked hard again at Wirther. He had never suspected the boy had that kind of upbringing. Although his family had never even been close to those kind of ‘medical pot’, ‘open border’, ‘social austerity’ progressive minded sort of folks, he knew exactly where his assessment of them fell.

“Well it looks like you managed to turn out alright despite that shit, eh?” David finally broke the uneasy silence. After all, he reasoned, the boy had managed to earn the rank of Captain flying the government’s top piece of military hardware. He must have come around at some point. “It’s a free country, soldier, despite what those terrorist loving rebels would have you believe. You are allowed to have your own politics even if it isn’t right.” David turned back to stare ahead into the oncoming wisps of fog that silently slipped over the nose of the drag.

“Still, no offense meant, sir.” Wirther spoke tentatively being well aware he was speaking to an AK after all. “What were you saying about the F-15’s?”

“So you were listening.” Mazor smiled turning once again to Wirther, his face reflecting the colorful visuals into which he stared.

“Yes, sir.” Wirther continued, “But I thought that the Navy was using the F-22’s by that time.”

David didn’t reply immediately. “Shit…” he thought to himself. Of course they were. Even at the academy he had missed that question on his History of Battlefield Tactics final exam. He turned away to look out the small window to his right, “Yes, soldier, I mean the F-22’s.”

Wirther’s eyes moved right, looking at David from the corner of his eyes, unwilling to fully turn his head. He had suddenly, and excruciatingly, realized he had just embarrassed an AK Commander.

“You would do good to remember that Commanders don’t like to be corrected, soldier.”

“Yes, sir.” Wirther’s eyes darted forward again. “It will not happen again, sir; my apologies Commander.”

“I trust it won’t.” David replied, trying to maintain a steady tone. Notwithstanding the fact his emotions were flaring, his advice to Wirther was appropriate nonetheless. Insubordination was a grey line and it was important to remind subordinates of that fact from time to time. Still, this may be a long mission and he had to balance authority with respect. He knew that the men respected the blood red insignia on his collar, and he knew they feared him… but he also wanted them to respect him as a Commander. The pilot, while not an AK, was a soldier in good standing and his job was a demanding one. He needed to let the incidental insult go. David glanced back into the rear compartment where the Mosler sessions were in full swing, the lights of the visuals lighting up in random patterns the whites of each AKs eyes. He had taken command of the squadron after receiving word from Dirke about a top security mission out of Base 215 whose CO was that moronic son of a bitch Major General Baques. David half laughed as he remembered saving the General’s fat ass. Still, he would get to see Kyle and he was looking forward to that. He hadn’t seen him in over a month and it would be good to lock horns with him again. Kyle was one of the few men that were his equal… “Well, nearly equal.” David corrected himself quickly. He turned his head forward again, away from the group of AKs. Sure, they were AKs alright but not the same breed as he and Kyle, he thought. They were the ‘production’ version of him. David enjoyed being part of a unique class. Even amongst the AKs he was unchallenged. A mystique surrounded those original two dozen men of which he and Kyle were two of the top five. Despite all that, he knew these production AKs were lethal nonetheless. They had their own mystique amongst the unaltereds which gave them a powerful edge in battle; even if they really didn’t need it. While it was true they wore Gentech’s AK insignia on their collars, only David’s shone with a deep blood red; the garnet stone catching the rising sun’s morning light. The ‘production’ AKs’ insignia color had been changed to black – for what reasons, David was not privy. But he was good with that… it added to his ego. To him the red stood for the blood he had shed during his stint at the institute; the pain he had endured. He had killed more men in under two minutes than were sitting in the battle drag at that moment. And if he wanted to, he could kill every one of the AKs in the back and not a one would be able to stop him. David suddenly grinned, his flaring emotions getting the better of him.

“Say goodnight, Captain.”

‘Sir?” Wirther’s head began to turn toward David but was suddenly slumping against his restraints. Commander Mazor’s hand had moved with lightning speed and he had instinctually moved to block it but he didn’t have a chance. He struggled as his body went numb; his limbs felt the weight of a thousand sparring gloves and about as big. He struggled briefly as the blackness engulfed his vision.

David had struck the pilot at a slightly upward angle, the blow landing squarely at the base of the skull. His technique was flawless; and its power highly controlled. It was jarring enough to interrupt the signals traveling the spinal cord into the base of the brain; but not so jarring as to cause death. Wirther would have one hell of a headache when he awoke but it would be several seconds before the pilot’s brain could reset the nerves to accept impulses once again. Only then would he climb back into reality.

“I am sure you will remember to be more polite in the future when addressing an AK Red.” David commanded and with a wave of his fist he summoned his second from the rear compartment, “Lieutenant!”

“Yes sir?” the lieutenant replied as he slid the Mosler visuals back to an overhead position and unstrapped himself from his seat.

“Our pilot has had a dizzy spell.” David grinned, “You will hold his arms down until he regains consciousness. We don’t want him damaging himself as he comes around. After all, Uncle Sam owns that body of his and we don’t want to be guilty of damaging government property, do we?”

“No, Sir!” the Lieutenant smilingly agreed.

David knew that the ‘coming to’ part was the worst of the whole experience. As the brain struggled to regain control, sporadic firing of nerve cells were commonplace, causing violent thrashing of limbs. It would pass rapidly as the mind stabilized but still there was a risk of injury if not restrained.

“He’s coming around, sir.” the Lieutenant stated applying pressure to Wirther’s wrists, locking them securely against the arm rests.

“Hold him down, Lieutenant.” David relaxed back in to the flight restraints and looked ahead as the sun was just beginning to rise above the fog; casting reflections in the small creek below the drag’s flight path. “The fog’s beginning to lift. Looks like its going to be a gorgeous day in this man’s corp.”

“Yes, sir, Commander. It certainly does.”

“Quite a far cry from the F-22s that once ruled the sky, isn’t it Lieutenant?” David began.

***

Joint Base Archer-Beaker

215th Brigade HQ

NOREASCOMATLFLT

Designation: RASCALS

0700 Hours

“At ease, Sgt.” Kyle spoke sharply as the guard recognized his Gentech insignia and scrambled to bring himself to attention.

“Sir, yes sir.” the guard acknowledged, “Can I help you with anything this morning, Commander?”

Kyle let the glass door swing closed behind him, “Need to see Director Dirke, Sgt.”

“Yes, sir, the Director has been expecting you.” the guard replied as he glanced down at the sensor readout in front of him. The RFID chip within Kyle’s arm had already been scanned and his security credentials verified even before he had fully entered the room. Gentech AK 1st Class Commander Kyle Northwood’s picture appeared on the screen. The guard stared for a moment before looking up again to mentally compare with the man standing in front of him, “Sir, if you don’t mind.” He continued as he activated the biometric scanner at the front of the desk.

“Of course not, Sgt.” Kyle replied as he placed the palm of his hand on the clear glass panel. He felt a soft vibration as the lens scanned his palm under the thin glass his hand rested upon.

“Recognized, Gentech Commander Kyle Northwood, access granted. Have a good morning, sir.” The metallic sounding voice echoed in the room as the security system verified his palm and arterial patterns with the biometric data stored on his Identichip implant.

Kyle watched as the smooth, polished door slid open in the wall to reveal a short corridor beyond.

“Have a good morning, sir.” the guard said as he again stood at attention as Kyle walked past and into the corridor.

“Thank you, Sgt.”

Kyle continued into the corridor, his boots making a sterile echo as they made contact with the overly polished floor. The sound of his forceful stride interrupted only by the slight hiss of the smooth door closing behind him. He followed the corridor past the glass cubicles which housed the Director’s staff, noticing the discreet glances from those peering intently at visual displays. He mind was focused, however, on the previous day’s events. This was the third time that morning he had played out each second of the encounter in his mind; step by step, analyzing each and every facet of every subsequent moment. A chain of actions, reactions and outcomes that when strung together resulted in his first defeat on the battlefield; his first and, by God or the Devil, his last he resolved. As he approached the large cherry wood doors, they swung open for him, beckoning him in to face his commander and mentor, Anton Dirke. As he entered, he barely heard them close as they sealed him to his fate.

“Reporting as ordered, sir.” Kyle stopped in the middle of the office, his dress uniform impeccable aside from the white sling the docs had made him wear.

“Good morning, Kyle.” Dirke began, “I see the docs saw fit to tie a nice piece of cloth around your shoulder, although I think that was more a message to me than anything else.” Dirke stood and walked from behind his desk clasping his hands behind his back as he approached his achievement.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked Kyle.

“Give me a week, to get back to stat sir.” Kyle responded succinctly.

“Commander, do you have any idea how difficult it was to convince Colonel Ngyun that you’d be able to see me this morning without revealing the full extent of your special constitutional abilities?”

Kyle grinned. He’d known Dirke long enough to know when he could drop the formalities of rank and treat Dirke like the friend and mentor that he was. He liked their friendship and was happy when he didn’t have to play the subordinate. Dirke was a good man and he had seen Kyle through many a hard hours even going back to his institute days and the agony of his ‘treatments’.

“Yeah but I’m sure you enjoyed the convincing all the same Dirke.” he smiled.

The two men laughed as Dirke embraced Kyle by the shoulders, “It’s good to see you upright son.”

“It’s good to be upright.”

“Please come, sit down Kyle. Let’s talk.” Dirke urged as he pointed to the chairs in front of his desk.

“Can I get you anything?” Dirke asked as he tried to help Kyle into the chair.

“C’mon Dirke, I’m not an invalid, or mortally wounded for crying out loud. I think I got this. Knock it off.” Kyle protested, “But about that drink – make it a double; let’s start the morning off right. After all I don’t remember the last time I had a day off.”

“Well about that…” Dirke broke off as he turned toward the bar along the north wall of his office.

“What?? You have got to be kidding me! Today?”

“Easy; nothing strenuous big guy.” Dirke grabbed two glasses as he reached for his finest whiskey. “I just want to fly you out to the institute for some quick tests is all; you’ll be back before the mess hall is dishing out the slop they call supper.”

“I’m fine Dirke, I don’t need any tests.”

“Oh yeah, hotshot?”

“Are you serious?”

Dirke walked back to sit next to his friend, handing him his double as he relaxed into the overstuffed dark leather chair. The fabric made a slight sound as Dirke settled back and brought his left hand up to stroke his beard. He watched as Kyle took his first sip of his finest… an 18 year old MacAllan single malt.

“Wow.” Kyle stared at his glass, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Dirke smiled, “Nice, huh? Baques sent that over to me after that incident up at Burlington a couple of months back. His boys really screwed that little maneuver up. I had to send Mazor up there to get Baques out the hole his flak boys had dug for him.”

“Yeah, I talked to David about six weeks ago and believe me he told me all about how he had to save some General’s ass and face both.” Kyle laughed, “At least you got one hell of a smooth bottle out of it. Have you shared this with David yet?”

Dirke winked, “I am going to, I promise.” his voice was softer now. He wanted Kyle to feel relaxed while they spoke.

“Well you better; you know how David gets when he feels left out of things.” Kyle felt the whiskey’s warmth spreading through his chest. Now this is nice, he thought. It had been a long uptime for him and he did need a day off. Even supermen need a day to relax don’t they. Anyway why should he feel guilty? He had given plenty in this war, far more than most. His mind conjured up memories of the genetic manipulation he had undergone at the institute, ‘treatments’ the docs had called them. He took another sip, no, now was not the time to remember those days. He needed a day off and Damnit he was going to take one. He lifted his glass towards Dirke, “Here’s to the good ol’ days.”

“Ah, yes indeed… cheers.” Dirke responded in kind.

They both took a long, slow sip and savored every second the warm liquid flowed over their tongues. For a few moments, all things were right in the world. For a few moments they enjoyed each other’s company in silence.

Dirke gazed across at his protégé, “Kyle, let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“What happened?” Dirke was suddenly serious, “Rather, how did this happen? Honestly.”

“Honestly?” Kyle sounded confused.

“You are one of the strongest, fastest most lethal living weapons ever to walk the planet. I know because I helped make you that way.” Dirke rose from his chair, whiskey glass still in hand and walked toward the expansive windows on the west side of the office. “You have been trained to near perfection. You are one of only a handful of men that a lot of folks out there consider demigods.”

“Dirke…”

“Let me finish. You are stronger than anyone else, you are faster than anyone else, you can see better than anyone else and you can hear better than anyone else. At least you could until now. So you tell me… How did this happen?”

Kyle lowered his drinking arm, “I have been over it three times this morning alone Dirke. To be honest… I don’t know.”

Dirke turned back toward Kyle as he walked slowly to his desk chair. Kyle knew what Dirke was getting at and he hated the ‘beating around the bush’ habit Dirke had when dealing with sensitive subjects. He preferred a more direct approach.

“Just say it Dirke.”

Dirke chose his next words carefully. He did not want to alarm or upset his long time friend, “I want to make sure that everything is working the way it should be is all I am saying.”

“You say that like I am some sort of cyborg or something Dirke. You of all people know I am 100% flesh and blood, what gives?”

“Then you tell me Kyle. How could something like this occur?”

“What’s got you so spooked Dirke? We’ve known each other for far too long to play this game.”

“Nothing’s got me spooked; I just think we should run a few tests as a precaution.”

“You don’t just run a full DNA workup without good reason.” Kyle knew that Dirke was being careful not to worry him, “Do you think something’s gone wrong?”

“How did this happen to you, Kyle? Be honest… have you been feeling different lately, any problems you haven’t mentioned in your stat checks? Anything that I… we should know about?”

Kyle’s mind went back to the first moment he detected movement. It was to his right; a mere whisper of a motion, but it was there nonetheless.

“It was the fastest thing I have ever seen…” Kyle began, a bit of fear welling up inside him once again. He hoped Dirke wouldn’t notice. “It was powerful Dirke, maybe even stronger than me… powerful, and I don’t just mean strength. I mean presence, awe inspiring presence…” Kyle stopped short, regaining a bit of composure. He was in unfamiliar territory. He honestly did not know how Dirke would react to any of this and he certainly didn’t relish the idea of tests up at the institute.

“What was it? Did you get a good look at it?” Dirke fixated on Kyle as he eased himself back into the plush white chair.

“I got to study it for a few moments when I came to after its initial attack. I must have been out maybe ten seconds. It thought I was unconscious and I got a chance to take a closer look as it stood over me… Dirke, it was the weirdest thing.” Kyle paused briefly, “It’s like it wasn’t really there… a mirage, or an apparition or something. There one second then fading into the very air the next. I tell you, I couldn’t tell if the thing even had a body or not… I could only see it for a split second whenever it moved, or at least what I think were movements.” Kyle’s eyes wandered to stare out over Dirke’s shoulder as he relived the encounter once again in his mind.

“Slow down Kyle. Start from the top.” Dirke interrupted, “Tell me everything, second by second, of what happened. I need to know every detail.”

Kyle relayed the full encounter to Dirke, even throwing in the losing his lunch part for good measure. As he finished, Dirke was back behind his desk, pouring over a visual interface emanating from the center.

“Dirke? Did you get all that?”

“If you are referring to your ever so eloquent description of your ‘lost lunch’ scene, then yes, I heard every word; even hung on a few of them from time to time.” Dirke replied sarcastically. “Give me a second. You did happen to mention something that sparked a memory for me. I just need to find it…”

Kyle knew that Dirke had something. Maybe it was something that could provide some sort of explanation that made sense because nothing he had been able to come up with so far was even close.

“Yes, here it is.” Dirke’s hands paused on the report he had pulled into the visual display. “This was September 2nd. Take a look.” Dirke motioned for Kyle as his wrist spun the virtual file around to face Kyle.

Kyle stood and leaned on the desk across from Dirke. The visual display was impressive even by today’s standards. A thin flexible film stretched vertically across the width of the desk a good six feet. Kyle was six-four, maybe even six-six with his boots and still he had to look upwards to search for a log date at the top of the highly classified report.

“When did you say this was?” Kyle inquired after a few moments.

“September 2nd, this year. Why?”

“Well, that was thirty three days ago.”

“And…?” Dirke was puzzled.

“And twenty six days ago was the first of an unexplained attack that rocked 214 over in Newport in the early dawn. And it didn’t end there, either. Almost daily since, there has been a terrorist attack in the tri-base area; 214, 216 and us.” Kyle stated matter-of-factly.

“So there has been an increase in activity. So what does that have to do with this?” Dirke coaxed.

“Maybe nothing… but there is something very different about this recent surge.”

“What’s that?”

“That in all those attacks, not a single rebel casualty; in fact, not a single report of rebel forces in terms of size, compliment, nothing.”

Dirke spun the virtual file back towards himself, “You think this thing actually exists and a rebel cell has it?”

“I guess we can’t know for sure.” Kyle paused. “Not all of the pieces fit. But I can tell you that it has the boys spooked. Some are even crying ‘ghost’ and after what I saw yesterday, well, hell maybe it is a ghost… or maybe, just maybe it’s this thing.”

“If they have this Kyle, this is a game changer.” Dirke was genuinely getting concerned.

“We’ve organized patrols all the way up to Bradford and found nothing.”

“You went into a rebel stronghold?” Dirke demanded, suddenly wondering why he had not been informed of this earlier.

“Just once, Dirke; Baques gave the order. We lost a couple choppers and an F-28 before we bugged out. The perimeter, as well as the DMZ, patrols have turned up nothing… I don’t think we had a choice but to see if we could see what was going on up there.”

“Well, it was stupid.” Dirke’s voice was reprimanding, “And another thing, I don’t appreciate being uninformed ahead of time about such a maneuver.”

Kyle stood straighter, “I take responsibility. The order came down from base command and I gave the authorization. I should have run it by you first. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” Dirke looked back towards the visuals and decided to let Kyle’s mistake go for the moment, “So you think they are getting past the automated defenses with this thing?”

“Makes sense… there is just one problem with that theory.”

“Who or what is wearing it?” Dirke finished Kyle’s reasoning. “I agree, not all the pieces fit yet. But, we do have a lead on a plausible explanation for the ‘ghost’, don’t we?”

“The suit.” Kyle looked back at the report.

“AMRL’s lab was completely wiped out when it was hit. I mean completely wiped out. Nothing was left; they hit it with some awful big payload. Research materials, databases, everything was vaporized. Even the underground bunkers were destroyed. We assumed all had been lost.”

“Maybe not…” Kyle shook his head.

“The lab was a highly classified and hardened facility. We still don’t know how they found out what was going in there or even less how they managed to pinpoint its location. Essentially, we are back to square one on the development.”

“No backups?” Kyle sounded puzzled. “Don’t they back this kind of stuff up somewhere; like a big iron mountain or something?”

“Not in this case.” Dirke turned back toward the windows. “The thinking was to keep the tightest lid on it they could before it was ready to release to manufacturing.”

“Didn’t work.” Kyle humphed.

“Nope, it doesn’t appear that way. Although we do suspect an inside leak. And because only a handful of people were even aware of the project, the military is sure they will have a traitor in custody shortly.”

“Wait, aren’t the drags using this technology already?”

“Production runs based off the original prototype meta-materials.” Dirke corrected as he stared out towards the north western hills. ‘It’ was hidden somewhere in the white landscape; his eyes searched across, seemingly hoping to see it. He couldn’t see it of course but he knew it was there regardless; somewhere, hidden. His mind wandered for a moment, imagining a brilliant beam of light, shining towards the heavens directly over the spot where it was at that very moment. “If only it was that simple…” he thought, frustrated that it wasn’t. Unbeknownst to Dirke at that moment, a mere 15 miles away directly in his line of sight a beam would have rested directly over Sarah as she moved with incredible speed towards the day’s target. But Dirke would hear all about that in exactly ten hours from that moment.

“If we are right,” Kyle interrupted Dirke’s silent fantasy, “we are in for some heavy losses unless we nail this bastard fast… and I mean yesterday.”

“What are your recommendations, Commander?” Dirke turned away from Sarah’s position.

“I think we should reach out to any of our folks over at ARLM, first. Hell they designed the thing, if that is indeed what we are up against. They goddamn better have some defensive suggestions.”

“I’ll handle that.” Dirke agreed.

“Second, sir, we have got to re-focus our search. Now that I have some kind of idea about what we are looking for, I can redesign the search patterns, maybe figure a way to triangulate its position, maybe even lay a snare for our unwelcome friend.”

“And what of the other pieces?” Dirke cautioned. “You know those pieces that don’t fit. I still want you to find time for those tests.”

Kyle grimaced, “Let me get this started, sir. If there are any more incidents, I’ll come along willingly.”

Dirke paused for a second then decided to give Kyle his way for the moment. “Alright, we’ll do it your way for now. And I am also going to give you a tool that may help you here. I’m going to bring Commander Mazor in on this. You could use a helping hand on this one.”

Kyle knew David would be an asset; and he knew he could trust him. He had known Commander Mazor almost as long as he had known Dirke. He was a trusted friend, even though they had had their differences in the past. David had been at the institute at the same time he had been and Kyle was the first to admit there were times that both men needed someone to talk to during those long months. He was another like Kyle; one of the handful Dirke had referenced earlier.

“I am also going to take a meeting with Major General Baques; we’ll need his help coordinating with the other bases’ command. And, I hate to ask this, but you are going to need to meet with a man named Fuller, GIC Fuller. He is straight from Gentech home office. Be frank with him, tell him what you know but don’t get in his way. Be careful with this one, he’s got friends back at HQ. If you have any problems, talk to me first, got it?”

“No sweat, sir.”

“Oh and Kyle…” Dirke started.

“Sir?”

“Get yourself patched up before you do any hunting. Use David until you are back to stat. He is already on his way here. I ordered him up along with his squadron after you came in last night. Things were a bit too spooky not to have him on hand. Consider him yours for the time being. He’ll love that.”

“Yeah, I suspect he’ll just love the hell out of it.” Kyle nodded. Although he considered David a friend, it was a strained relationship at times. Both of them were competitive, by their nature, even before their respective ‘treatments’. But it would be ok. He had always managed to find a way to get along with him and even enjoyed their spirited relationship. In a lot of ways, he considered David his own flesh and blood, a brother even.

“You have always found a way to work together; don’t let this be any different.”

“Not a problem, sir.”

“I want Delta level reporting on this one. Other than that, if you need anything, just say the word. Good luck and good hunting, soldier.”

Kyle stood straight, “Yes, sir, Director.” And with that, he turned on a dime and strode through the cherry doors once again, his footsteps echoing with the sharp sound of a man focused on the task in front of him. Dirke had given him the mission and he wasn’t about to let his mentor down a second time. He knew Dirke well enough to know that this was his way of giving him a chance for redemption, and Kyle had no intention of letting that slip from his grasp. Whatever this thing was, it now faced the full wrath of one pissed off AK.