Edge Of The Future

  Edge of the Future

  by

  Andria Stone

  Text Copyright 2017 @ Andria Stone

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table Of Content

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgements

  Forward

  After the last war, most democratic countries on Earth had united, combining their forces into one universal military. This led to a pooling of military funds, resulting in the construction of a new space station, a space dock and a shipyard. The military quickly became the primary spacefaring entity. The moon, officially named Luna, was colonized with three underground military bases. Mars was also colonized with three military bases and its own space station. Recently, world leaders elected to discard the old nomenclature “earth” meaning dirt or soil; formally christening the planet Terra, with Terran Military Defense (TMD) as humanity’s dominant armed forces.

  Chapter 1

  The Emergency Warning siren blared from every comm system throughout the research facility. Lights dimmed to a flashing red. The PA system crackled with static, announcing, “This is not a drill. The CAMRI facility is under attack. All systems are under full security lockdown. Shelter-in-place.”

  Captain Mark Warren froze for a moment. Looking up from his microscope, he scanned the room for his lab partner, Dr. Coulter. She wasn’t there. He didn’t remember her saying where she was going, either. He’d been so absorbed in his experiment he hadn’t paid any attention. He instinctively rushed to the door of their small Xenobiology laboratory and tried to twist the knob. Nope. Not opening. Damn. He hurried to the desk and checked the vid screen for information. Black nothingness. He grabbed his tablet to check for data. Dead. He tapped his comm for any voice message. Silence.

  The headache-inducing siren stopped. Only the red warning lights continued flashing. Mark ransacked the cabinets for anything useful. He found a MedKit, a fire extinguisher, but not so much as a box cutter to defend himself. And if someone wanted to hide—there wasn’t even a closet.

  All hell broke loose. Mark flinched at the sounds of automatic weapons’ fire coming from several different directions. An explosion ripped through the air. The whole room shuddered. Shit, shit, shit. Mark found the darkest corner in his small lab and hunkered down to wait for the end. Oh, hell. He should have stayed in Portland; nothing ever happened in Portland, or any one of a dozen different places he’d been. Like Paris. Yes, Paris, with Juliette, now only a memory. Long distance relationships with beautiful French women were short-lived. Instead, he’d let the Terran Military recruit him, then snooker him into a tour in the isolated Canadian wilderness, all for the sake of research. If it hadn’t been for his love of science—wait—he remembered an earlier briefing about some fanatics. A faction of global anti-technology extremists had been very vocal lately; making threats. Today they were making good on those threats with bombs and guns. Mark wondered where the soldiers were that should be guarding this place.

  ***

  The Terran Military troop transport ship hovered scant inches above a cold North Dakota spaceport tarmac, while the tactical assault group boarded.

  Sergeant Axel Von Radach was the last to jump through the airlock hatch. He headed straight for the pilot’s cabin. He knew the drill; he rapped on the bulkhead and poked his head inside to confirm the coordinates. He recognized the call signs emblazoned in red on both pilots’ helmets. Axel had personal history with both these women.

  “Well, hello, ladies. We having lunch in Canada this afternoon?”

  To his left, Boss Lady continued tapping the screens on her flight console. “Affirmative. Don’t worry your pretty little head, Sergeant. We’ll be there before you know it.” She tossed him a look over her shoulder, winked, and puckered her lips.

  In the Nav seat, Tiger Lily flashed him a smile then gave him a thumbs-up. She tapped the ship’s comm, and announced, “Okay, people, harness up. Ten seconds to liftoff.”

  Axel backed out, slid around the bulkhead into the nearest empty harness station, and strapped himself to the hull.

  As they became airborne, the interior lighting switched to deep blue. The same color glowed in the twin light strips on the floor. Today, his transport held one platoon of thirty soldiers. Mostly men, with some women, all with buzz cuts or shaved heads. Each outfitted in urban gray tactical combat armor, gear, and pulse weapons. They were divided into two squads sitting opposite each other.

  Lieutenant Monroe always positioned himself in the middle, facing the hatch. Inside his helmet, Monroe’s mouth moved, and his head bobbed. Axel knew he was conversing with HQ. Sergeant Russo, of Bravo Squad, sat centered along the back, updating his people in subdued tones.

  Axel commed his squad. “Listen up. Terrorists have attacked CAMRI, a joint Canadian-American Military Research Installation outside Churchill, Manitoba. We received an alert when their systems went offline. An unknown number of heavily armed militants have been onsite now for fifteen minutes. CAMRI’s onsite forces have gone dark, so we have no news on casualties or damages. Our orders are to eliminate any and all threats. We knew this was a military research installation, but now suspect it may house classified biomaterials. I say again, classified biomaterials. Use extreme caution in any laboratory areas. I don’t want anyone bringing back a deadly pathogen. Am I clear?”

  In unison, fourteen voices responded, “Yes, Sergeant.”

  Axel continued, “They’re dropping us onto the roof. The structure is two levels of twenty-four laboratories, each. We’ll split up, sweep it from the top down. Bravo Squad is taking the ground floor.” Axel grinned. “Neutralize all the bad guys—not any of the good guys—and do not go blowing holes in things for the fun of it—unless you want them billing us for the damages.”

  Again, fourteen voices responded, “Yes, Sergeant.”

  The ship’s comm buzzed. Tiger Lily warned, “Okay people, lock and load. Hot LZ in twenty seconds.”

  ***

  A massive explosion detonated somewhere close in the corridor outside Mark’s lab, followed by weapon fire, yelling and screaming, then silence.

  Mark got to his feet, feeling that fight-or-flight epinephrine surge through his body. He stared at the door handle as it began to glow red-hot. A force hit the metal door. He flinched. It burst open. He stumbled backward.

  An armored soldier erupted into the room. He looked straight at Mark, and turned to drag in a wounded soldier. Both their helmets had red TMD insignias.

  “Who are you?” The
soldier’s helmet turned his voice into a raspy growl.

  “Captain Mark Warren, Terran Military, Exobiology Research & Development.”

  “Good, you can help me.” He handed the wounded soldier’s sidearm to Mark. “Guard the door.” He pulled a packet from a hidden seam on his bicep, tore open the wrapper, dropped to one knee next to the injured soldier, and jabbed him in the thigh with a syringe.

  Mark backed up against the wall, aiming the gun at the door. “Okay, now who are you?”

  “I’m the cavalry come to save you lab rats.” The armored soldier lifted his mirrored faceplate, stood and offered a cocky smile. “Sergeant Axel Von Radach, Tactical Assault Group, TMD, North American Command.”

  Oh, crap. An adrenalin junkie. Mark nodded to the man on the floor. “Is he going to be okay? And what’s happening out there? I’ve been locked in here since the alarms went off. Where’s our security?”

  “His suit will seal a wound, but in case it’s internal, we need to get him out of here—soon. Some terrorists are trying to blow your house down.”

  Mark nodded.

  “And kill you.”

  Mark heard voices coming from the corridor. They grew louder.

  Von Radach pressed a finger to his lips, cradled his rifle, and peeked around the door. “Stay here. Take care of Scarlotti,” he whispered, closing his faceplate, and sliding into the hallway.

  Mark grabbed a strap on the wounded soldier’s vest, and pulled him into the furthermost corner. Blackened scorch marks on the armor indicated a possibly lethal injury. Mark peeled back a glove, checked for a pulse. Good. Still alive. A rapid burst of fire startled him. He seized the gun, and faced the door.

  Presently, a voice said, “Don’t shoot, Captain. I’m coming in.” The sergeant gingerly eased through the doorway, carrying an unconscious middle-aged woman in a bloody lab coat.

  “That’s Dr. Coulter—my lab partner.” Mark rushed over to help the sergeant lay the short, pudgy woman on top of the metal workspace island in the middle of the room. “She’s Canadian—she’s teaching me how to speak French.” He checked her carotid. She had a pulse, but he couldn’t find any wounds. “I don’t know where this blood is coming from.”

  “Shot a big guy. He fell on top of her. It’s his blood. He was a bear, so she’s probably got one hell of a concussion.” The sergeant removed his helmet, revealing dark eyes in an olive complexion, with close-cropped black hair, and beard stubble. The remnants of a new scar pierced his left cheek. Not a clean-cut military recruitment poster specimen. Mark also got the distinct impression he was the one nobody messed with in school, in a bar, or anywhere.

  Von Radach turned, stepped away and engaged in a terse conversation on his comm. He spun around to face Mark. “You have any hazardous biomaterials in here?”

  They stood eye to eye. Mark judged they were about the same age, but the armor looked intimidating.

  “Nope,” Mark said, a little too quickly.

  “Now that’s a bald-faced prevarication, Captain. What are you cooking up in here?”

  “It’s classified.”

  The sergeant patted the rifle nestled against his chest plate. “I’m positive this gives me all the clearance I need.”

  “The XB on the door stands for Xenobiology—synthetic biology.”

  “And that’s the study of…?”

  “Creating synthetic life.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Could be.”

  “How?”

  Mark blurted out his stock explanation. “DNA is vulnerable to viruses, ultraviolet light, nuclear radiation, chemicals and a host of other agents. XNA-based organisms aren’t.”

  “Synthetic life, huh? Like…AIs and cyborgs—with military applications?”

  “Hmm.” Mark shrugged.

  “Supersoldiers?” The sergeant scoffed. “Well, hell, Captain, I am a supersoldier.” He burst out laughing.

  The lights stopped flashing red. A steady green light filled the room. The PA system crackled with static, then blared, “All clear! This is an all-clear announcement. The threat has passed. All clear!”

  “Yes!” Mark’s fight-or-flight feeling ebbed, replaced by a euphoric giddiness.

  “All right, Captain.” The sergeant donned his helmet. “Let’s get these injured out of here.” He squatted in front of Scarlotti, and in one fluid movement lifted the armored soldier and slung him around his shoulders, fireman-style. “You get her.”

  Mark gazed at the plump middle-aged doctor lying on the workstation and didn’t know which part to grab first. He picked her up and carried her in his arms as the sergeant had done.

  “Follow me,” Von Radach ordered from the hall, hurrying toward the stairwell.

  “Wait, the lift is the other way.”

  “It’s out of commission.”

  Mark turned the corner, stopped in his tracks. “Holy…what happened here?” Several feet away, three masked terrorists were splayed out in the hall. No armor covered these bodies. Copious amounts of blood and tissue lay splattered and smeared on the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling.

  “We ordered them to surrender. They refused.”

  Trying not to disturb the scene, Mark clutched Dr. Coulter tighter, rushing to catch up with the sergeant as he entered the stairwell. The door hung askew. Scorch marks emanated from a central blast point inside the landing. Two more masked bodies littered the floor. Mark stood still, paralyzed at the sight. These were missing some limbs. This was a bloodbath, with bone fragments everywhere. He remembered hearing the explosions. Now it was real. Everything. Terrorists had attacked his workplace. He was wading through blood and death. Sweat oozed from every pore on his skin. Mark braced himself and swallowed past a wave of nausea.

  “Captain…one step at a time…careful with your Dr. Coulter…”

  Mark shook his head. He spotted the sergeant looking up at him from the middle landing.

  “Wha—Right. I’m good.” Slowly, he maneuvered around the carnage, descending one footfall at a time, regaining his composure as he went. At the bottom, an armored soldier with a rifle stood guard inside the ground floor door. He kept an eye on them as they descended the last half flight of stairs. Mark followed the sergeant through the hall into the lobby where a medical triage area was already in place.

  Two Terran military medics rushed toward the sergeant. Their uniforms were pale gray full-length ballistic-proof bodysuits bearing chest insignias of a red caduceus surrounded by a circle of gold stars. After lifting Scarlotti from Von Radach’s shoulders, they laid him on a hover gurney, removed his helmet, and attached a medical halo to his skull.

  Another medic, an older, white-haired man, approached Mark with his arms outstretched. “I can take her, Captain,” he said.

  Mark gazed at the poor little pudgy doctor in his arms and tightened his grip. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t. He didn’t even know if she was still alive. What was he going to do if she died in his arms? He hugged her against his chest as if she were a child. He couldn’t let go. A firm hand touched Mark’s shoulder, a familiar gesture, something much like his brother would have done. He turned his head. The sergeant was there instead.

  “Captain, this is Major Torance,” he said. “He’s our best combat doctor, and he’s going to take your friend now.” The sergeant helped ease the woman’s body out of Mark’s grasp and into the doctor’s waiting arms. “Okay, now come with me. We need to get you checked out.”

  Von Radach escorted him into a small conference room off the lobby, where Mark recognized numerous colleagues, also being treated by medics. They placed a medical halo over his forehead, gave him injections to counteract dehydration, and a stimulant for mental clarity. While this happened, he was debriefed—interrogated—and his vital signs no doubt recorded. The momentary confusion he’d experienced earlier evaporated. Mark recounted the day’s events, step by step, in vivid detail, since the alarms had sounded. Death and destruction had shattered his nice quiet corner of the Ca
nadian backcountry. When he finished, Mark’s head throbbed with anger and the overwhelming urge to break something.

  ***

  “How goes it, Ohashi?” Von Radach stood beside his squad’s cyber corps Intel specialist. She sat on an overturned box in the middle of the facility's server room. Unlike other female soldiers, Ohashi wore a bobbed haircut, shorter in the back, angled toward the front, with bangs framing her Asian features. Her fingers danced across the keypad, eyes glued to the lines of code streaming down the screen. She had accessed the CAMRI installation’s mainframe, focusing on analyzing, deciphering, and searching for anomalies.

  “Well, Sergeant, they’ve definitely been hacked. Oooh, and sneaky, too. A targeted attack from the outside got past the firewalls. That’s what shut them down, however, it seems they were also hit with a passive attack from the inside. It’s going to take a while to figure out who, or where it originated, but I’m working on it.” She rubbed her hands together, wiggled her half-gloved fingers above the keypad, and began again in earnest.

  “You keep this to yourself, Ohashi. I’ll be back with the lieutenant.”

  Axel returned to the lobby, mulling over the last bit of news. Espionage wasn’t new to him. If a corporation or a foreign government used an electronic device to steal data, it was deemed an act of cyberwarfare. Period. Always quicker and easier to pirate the tech, only this time, they were stealing classified military secrets. The right technology would be worth lots of money. Money equaled power. The mega power belonged to the Terran Space Command. They controlled almost everything from the ionosphere up: the giant space station, the military space dock, the shipyard. In addition, the military had colonized Mars—with a domed city, underground bases—and a spaceport. What tech in this small, obscure facility could be so important people would kill and die for it? Who did they have on the inside? Spying? Sabotaging? Now that was treason. And a whole different ball game.