I kept my eyes on the passage behind us, my heart pounding in my ears.  We’d managed to defeat all of the Kill-Bots we’d encountered so far, but I knew that Dr. Hazard always kept reinforcements.

We didn’t have long before they arrived, and we’d find ourselves under fire – and in this open chamber, there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to take shelter…

“Boss, we need to hurry!” I called out, the concern clear in my voice.

But my boss, mentor, and all-around hero had other concerns.

“Captain Electric!  And his little errand boy, PowerPlug!”  The voice, filled with deep, booming menace, rolled out around the chamber.  I glanced back again and saw the supervillain himself, Dr. Hazard, step forward, out from behind the main power console.

“Dr. Hazard,” my mentor, Captain Electric, growled in return.  “Haven’t you learned that you’ll never win with these nefarious deeds?”

I half expected the villainous Doctor to not even respond, but to open fire immediately on my hero.  The man was certifiably insane, after all!  But instead, he simply spread his arms wide, grinning down at the hero facing him.

“Captain, I’ve thought long and hard since our last conversation,” Dr. Hazard boomed out, his voice projecting out from beneath the deep, shadowed hood and mask that he always wore.  We’d never seen the villain’s face.  “And you know what I’ve realized?”

And then, to my shock and amazement, the man reached up and pulled that mask away.

“I’ve realized that you’re right,” he announced, as we both stared up at him.

Of course, Cap was faster on the uptake than me.  That’s why he’s the hero, after all, and I’m the sidekick – and I’m okay with that!  It’s his genius that let him build his gadgets to give him control over the power of electricity.  I’m just grateful that he shared them with me.

But even though Cap responded before me, he was definitely thrown.  “Hazard, what are you talking about?” he called out.

“My bots!” Hazard returned, running one hand through his hair.  He was surprisingly young, I couldn’t help noticing.  And with that mask gone, he didn’t look like a villain.

He almost looked like a hero.

“My bots that I’ve spread out around the world!” Hazard went on, gesturing at the massive electronic screen behind him.  “I’m not out to destroy humanity, Captain – I want to help it!”

“Don’t listen to him, Cap!” I shouted out, hearing the tell-tale sound of clinking Kill-Bots coming closer in the corridors.

But the Cap had his head cocked to one side, confused.  “Help it how?” he asked.

“We can do so much, we have so much potential!” Hazard replied, his voice straining with emotion.  “Just think of all the amazing things that we’ve created!  But so much of humanity has grown fat and lazy, relying on these older inventions, not thinking of the future.

“If we truly want to save our planet, to keep on advancing, we must leave behind the past!” Hazard finished, waving his hand up at the screen.  “Coal plants, whaling ships, all of these archaic remnants of our vicious past – we don’t need them!  Only once they are gone can we look forward to our future!”

I waited for Cap’s rebuttal, but he didn’t say anything.  I glanced at him, and he looked stunned by this announcement.  “Hazard, you’re insane!” I shouted back, since my hero was thinking of something else.  Undoubtedly, the man was formulating a plan.  “You’re going to kill millions!”

“But I won’t!” the villain shouted back at me.  “Sure, a few will die – but my bots will not just destroy the old, but build newer, more advanced technology in their place!  It’s an upgrade for the whole world!”

“You’re insane!” I yelled, expecting Cap to support me.

But instead, his voice was low, quiet.

“He’s right.”

What?

I spun around, staring at the man, my hero and mentor, my jaw dropping open.  “Cap, what the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s right,” the Captain repeated, his voice a little stronger now.  “All this time, all these years – Harry, I’ve always fought for humanity, but where has it gotten us?”

“Where has it gotten us??”  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  “Cap, we’ve saved the world a dozen times over!”

“And yet, it hasn’t changed!” Hazard chimed in.  “Every time you save the world, it doesn’t get better – it just reverts to its same old, uncaring ways!  We still inflict pain on each other, destroy the planet beneath us, because there’s no one looking forward!”

I stared in shock and betrayal as the Captain nodded along with this.  “I’ve always thought that we would correct our course, take the right path,” he said quietly, almost to himself.  “But it’s been twenty years, and that still hasn’t happened.”

“And it never will,” Hazard finished.  “Not without our help.”

As soon as Dr. Hazard had appeared, the Captain had raised his arms, bolts of electricity crackling at their ends, ready to arc out from his power gloves.  But now, he relaxed, lowering those arms, and the electricity faded away.

With their crackling gone, silence filled the chamber.

I couldn’t believe this was happening.  “Cap, you can’t give up, can’t turn to the dark side!” I shouted out at the man.  I blinked furiously, feeling little drops of water welling up at the corners of my eyes.

“Is it the dark side, though?” the man asked me, his voice still calm, sounding as if he was conversing about the weather.  “Come on, Harry!  We’ve fought for years, and yet nothing changes!”

“That’s a good thing!” I cried out, imploring the man to see sense.

But Cap just shook his head, looking down at the floor.  “No, Harry.”  His voice was barely above a whisper.  “It’s bad.

“We aren’t saving the world, my old friend.  We’re holding it back.”

And then, as I watched, my vision growing cloudy from tears, the Captain stepped forward, to stand beside Dr. Hazard.

Not as his enemy.

As his ally.

To be continued…

I woke up, my head aching even more than usual.  “Ugh,” I announced, eloquently informing the world that I had returned to consciousness.

I tried to open my eyes, but they were still half-crusted shut from whatever I’d been up to the last night.  I only managed to get them half-open, and saw that I was someplace dim.  I reached up with one arm to wipe them free of the crusty debris-

-but my arm didn’t move.

Wait a minute.  I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision.  Slowly, still swirling a little and making me feel dizzy, the world swam back into shaky focus.

I was sitting up, I realized, in a chair that definitely did not have any padding.  My muscles were crying out from various areas, suggesting that I’d been here for a while.  I gave my arms another tug, but they still didn’t move.

I looked down at them, and saw thick metal straps locked around my wrists, holding them in place.  I gave my arms another tug, and saw them rattle against those steel bracelets, but the cuffs on my arms didn’t budge.

I still felt woozy and half-conscious, but it was starting to sink into my mind that something was wrong.  I didn’t remember coming here, and I definitely didn’t remember being locked up for anything.

My legs had similar shackles down around the ankles.  I tried to jerk my whole body, but the chair didn’t budge – it must be bolted down to the floor, I realized.  This was not good at all.

I could feel my panic level rising.  I pulled my head up, staring around at my current location.  What the hell was going on?

I appeared to be alone, inside a room of some sort.  My initial impression of dimness was correct – there was a single bulb hanging down from the ceiling above my head, casting a yellow illumination over everything, but there was no other light in the room.  The walls were featureless and gray, just like the floor.  I felt as though I was entombed inside a block of concrete.

I opened my mouth, feeling my tongue rasp, dry and swollen, against my teeth.  “Hello?” I called out, my voice sounding somewhere between a croak and a squeak.  “Is anyone there?”

My voice echoed dully around the room, but there was no response.  And as I tilted my head around, I realized something else that made fear shoot deep into my heart:

There was no door in or out of the room.

Now, I was definitely scared.  What the hell had happened last night?  I tried to cast my mind back, but it felt as though it was stuffed with cotton.  I very vaguely remembered heading out to the bars, a typical Friday night, but everything after that dissolved into abstract color.

I was still trying to recall what had happened when I suddenly heard a click, and felt the pressure around my wrists and ankles stop.  I looked down, and saw that the clamps around my wrists and ankles had opened.

Cautiously, I stood up, reaching around to massage at where the steel had bit into my wrists.  “Hello?”  I called out again, but again received no response.

I heard a hiss behind me, and spun around.  On the wall behind me, a slab of the concrete had slid aside, revealing a passage leading out of the room.

I paused, but there didn’t seem to be any other choice.  I took a minute to hold up my middle finger in the air before heading through the passage.  I couldn’t see any cameras, but they had to be watching from somewhere, right?

Cautiously, I made my way down the revealed hallway, the walls and floor the same color and texture as the room where I’d awoken.  I could see another light glowing at the far end, but I had no idea what to expect.

What I found, when I stepped into the next room, was a doorway.

The doorway was mounted on a plinth in the middle of the room, raised up about half a step from the rest of the floor.  There was no door in the doorway, but it looked as though someone had stretched a white, shimmering sheet across the open rectangle.

There was also, I noticed, no other way in or out of the room.

With nothing else to do, I advanced slowly on the doorframe, examining it.  It looked quite ordinary, aside from that rippling whiteness that filled it.  I reached out and carefully extended a finger towards that whiteness.

As I made contact with it, I felt absolutely nothing; it was like trying to touch air.  But when I tilted my head to peer around the frame, I saw nothing on the other side.

My finger wasn’t appearing!

I drew back, confused.  My head was still killing me!  What was I supposed to do, step through?

But on the other hand, I didn’t seem to have anything else to do – and there was no sign of anyone stepping in to give me instructions.

I took a deep breath, braced myself, and stepped up to the doorway.  “I hope this is what you want,” I announced out loud, and then let my breath out in a slow whoosh.

And then I stepped through the doorway.

For a moment, nothing happened in the room.  It was all still, aside from the shimmering, rippling motion of the whiteness in the doorframe.

And then, a man came stumbling out the other side of the doorframe.

This was, at first glance, not the same man who had stepped into the opening a moment earlier.  He had a thick beard covering most of his face, and his hair was a shock of white.  His hands were covered in wrinkles, and he seemed to be missing several fingers.  He stood with a hunched, bent back, and looked about to snap like a twig at any second.

He stared around at the room, his eyes wide but unbelieving.  “No!  Not again!” he screamed out, as his whole face dropped open in horrified recognition.

The old, withered man took a step or two forward, but then let out a last sound, somewhere between a gasp and a scream, and collapsed forward, down onto the floor.

For several minutes, he just lay there, not moving.

After it was clear that the man was dead, another door opened, and two men in white protective suits, hoods, and booties stepped into the room.  They hurried forward to the man, scooped up his limp and lifeless body, and hauled it towards the door.  On the other side, they casually dropped the body down a chute built into the wall.

Before the door closed, the sound of a blaring intercom could be heard from the far side.  “Bring in the next volunteer,” the voice called out with a crackle of static.

The door closed.

Storm looked up through half-closed, hooded eyes as the scientist in front of him babbled on, his words spilling out of him like the rushing flow of a half-dammed stream.

“This is absolutely insane!” he kept on saying, as if this somehow contributed to the conversation.  “To have amassed this many samples of the triple helix fragments – why, it’s totally unheard of!  Just imagine what sort of discoveries we can make with this!”

Storm didn’t need to hear any of this, but he let the scientist keep on babbling.  Instead of listening to the words, he instead half-tuned them out, focusing rather on the man himself…

The man, Dr. Bailard, looked a lot like a typical scientist, Storm thought to himself.  He was dressed in jeans and a blazer instead of the classic white lab coat, but if Storm closed his eyes a little further, the white coat seemed to appear in place.  The man wore a pair of thick black plastic-rimmed glasses, and he kept reaching up to adjust these as he babbled on.  He was gesturing wildly, threatening to knock over the cup of coffee that sat, abandoned, on the table in front of him.

He hardly looked like a Nobel prize winner in biology, Storm kept on thinking, but he kept that thought to himself.

“To have this much, all from different chromosomal regions, why, it’s never before been assembled!” Bailard was insisting now.  “There’s almost enough to reconstruct the entire original sample, and from that, well, there are so many discoveries that we could make!”

The man glanced down at his hands, as if he was trying to reassure himself that this was real.  “We could trace the number of accumulated mutations to see when this insertion first occurred,” he was saying now, almost shaking with anticipation.  “We can see whether we have overlap on the sections, suggesting that multiple copies of these genes originally existed.  We can test the stability, look at what genes are encoded for in ancestral versus current DNA.  So many options!”

As he listed these wild possibilities, Storm nodded, even though he didn’t plan on pursuing any of them.  Best not to pop the scientist’s bubble quite yet – at least, not until Bailard had signed with them.

The discovery of the triple helix DNA that had excited this scientist so had only occurred a few years ago, as genomic sequencing technology continued to advance in speed and drop in price.  Scientists, Dr. Bailard among them, had been astounded to discover, and then subsequently announce, that some humans possessed short stretches of “triple helix” DNA, where their DNA structure consisted of three chains of bases, rather than just two.  These triple helix structures were unusually stable – and even more enticingly, appeared to be scattered across the genome, in different areas in different people.

For scientists like Dr. Bailard, each of these triple-helix areas had been an area of intense focus and study, somewhere to focus all of their attention.

But for other interests, such as those that Storm represented, these sequences were just small pieces of a much bigger puzzle.

Storm knew that his organization wasn’t the only group that had immediately focused on these triple helixes.  That’s why he had worked quickly, spending millions of dollars to acquire samples, and millions more to keep his acquisitions secret.

But now, he needed a mind to work on pulling out the answers that his patrons sought.

Quietly, of course.

“Yes, Dr. Bailard, the whole thing is quite astounding,” Storm cut in smoothly, interrupting the scientist mid-soliloquy.  “But we need a bright mind to help us analyze this data.  We’re hoping that you’ll be that person we seek.”

Dr. Bailard’s mouth gaped open for a moment before the scientist regained enough control to close it.  “Why, of course!” he gasped.  “I earned the Nobel for discovering this strange hidden secret in our genes, but the chance to work on it more?  I’d give my right arm for it!”

Once again, the man took off on the list of different benefits that could arise from further investigation into triple-helix DNA.  And once again, Storm tuned him out.  None of that mattered.

Storm’s employers, his patrons, had been quite clear on this.

They wanted to get their hands on a full reconstruction of the triple helix genome, the original, complete structure and sequence.

They wanted it first, and they wanted to make sure that no one else could access it.

Finally, Dr. Bailard was winding down, and Storm stood up from his side of the conference table.  “Then we have an agreement?” he asked, leaning forward.  “We will have to get your signature for some non-disclosure agreements, of course, but those are little more than formalities.”

“Oh yes, yes!” the man across the table said, eagerly grabbing Storm’s hand and pumping it up and down.  “I want to get started right away!”

Storm’s mind flicked back to the bottom left drawer of his desk, back in his office.  That was the drawer that was sealed with a biometric lock, coded to his DNA signature.  There was no triple helix DNA in that signature, Storm knew.  He was a bit relieved to know that he didn’t have any of his own project inside him.

Inside that drawer, Storm knew, rested a sleek, black pistol, loaded with a full clip and with an attached silencer.

Dr. Bailard was indispensable to the project – up until the full genomic sequence was assembled.  But after that point, Storm knew what his patrons would ask of him next.

Secrecy was paramount.

I was walking down the hallway when it happened.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.  No noise, of course – I knew better than to leave the volume on.  Countless infiltrations had taught me the power of silence.

I withdrew the slim, black rectangle from my pocket, glancing down at the lit screen.  I made sure to keep the backlight turned all the way down, just bright enough to read the words on the screen/

There were only two.

“Containment failure.”

I dropped the phone back into my pocket, immediately looking up and around.  If I’d received the message, that meant that the breach had to be nearby.  I knew that I’d only have a minute or two, maybe less, to locate the crack.

It had only been a few months since I’d been recruited, but I felt as though I’d been waiting all my life for this moment.

My eyes flicked around the corridor, searching for that little glitch in the system, that tiny little point of wrongness.  It didn’t take long to spot it, right at about shoulder height on the wall beside me.

To anyone else, the breach wouldn’t have looked like anything more than a minor crack in the wall, little more than a hairline fissure.  But they wouldn’t have gotten up close enough to put their eye to the crack, to see the tiny beams of light radiating out from inside.

That was what I was looking for.

I took a half-step back, judging the distance to the wall.  I bounced on my toes a couple of times, shifting my weight back and forth.  And then, with a slow exhale, I swung my leg up and around in a spinning kick.

My foot made contact squarely with the crack in the wall-

-and the wall shattered out into chunks of plaster, new cracks spiderwebbing out in a radial pattern.

I rushed forward, yanking at the loose chunks of concrete, hauling them out of the way.  It took a couple more blows before it was fully open, but finally, the crack had widened enough.

I took a step back, sucking in one last breath, trying to calm my racing heart.  This was it.  The moment I’d been waiting for, the moment I felt as though I had been waiting for my entire life.

“Let’s see what’s beyond this bubble,” I muttered to myself as I tried to think calm thoughts.

And then I leaned forward, pushing myself into – and through – the crack.

Into the light…

I stood in front of the door, trying to keep my knees from knocking together.  Remember, Harry, just be polite and open, I told myself inside my head.  Sure, you don’t want to ruin things with this girl by offending her family, but you’re a nice enough guy.  Just stay polite, and it will all be fine.

After one last breath, I reached out and rang the bell.  Here goes nothing…

For a second, I heard nothing, and then the strangest sounds started radiating out from the other side of the door.  If I had to describe them, I’d say that they most resembled a live octopus being slowly pressed through a pasta roller.  It was loud, rather wet, and decidedly unpleasant.

“Kiji, back!  No, I said back!  Kiji, we have visitors, you have to behave!”  I perked up.  I knew that voice!

A moment later, my girlfriend opened up the door.  “Hi, Jules,” I greeted her, stepping up and giving her a brief hug.  She grinned back at me, showing off that little smirk I loved so much.

Jules was, in a word, amazing.  I’d met her four months previously, and had instantly fallen head over heels for her.  From her occasional biting sarcasm to her sweet smiles, how she always gave anyone her full attention, as though they were the most important person in the world – I knew instantly that I was hooked.  And somehow, I managed to be charming and kind enough to catch her eye as well.

But now came the next challenge: meeting her parents.  And I was praying that I was up to the task.

“Come on in, Harry,” Jules told me, pulling open the door.  “Just watch out for Kiji.  He can be a bit.. enthusiastic, let’s say, when he meets strangers for the first time.”

I was expecting a large dog, perhaps.  But when I stepped around the door and inside, that was most definitely not what I saw.  What Kiji was, I just can’t say.

Instead, let me say what I did see:

I saw tentacles, covered in rubbery suction cups.

I saw scales, metallic and glinting in the soft glow of the wall sconces.

I saw at least three eyes, big and yellow and baleful as they glared back at me with deep-seated reptilian anger.

I saw scything claws digging into the carpet underfoot.

I saw what looked disturbingly like a proboscis.

In short, I saw the worst monster of my life, like something had crawled out of my assembled nightmares.

The thing hissed at me as I stood there, frozen in shock.  But to my amazement, Jules reached past me, towards it!  “Jules, what are you doing?” I yelped in surprise and fear.

My lovely girlfriend was scratching the thing, behind the crest that covered its third eye!  And somehow, she wasn’t getting disemboweled.  The creature was still panting heavily (was that its breathing?), but it didn’t look as angry when it glanced up at her.  “Oh, don’t mind Kiji,” she said, as if this was a totally normal occurrence.  “He’s not great at accepting in new people, but he’ll like you!  Let him smell my hand.”

Ever so gingerly, I extended my hand towards the monster, where it was immediately wrapped in a tentacle.  When I withdrew it, I found my fingers coated in a thin sheen of slime.  “What the hell is that thing?” I asked, trying in vain to find a place to wipe off my fingers.

“You know, I’m not quite sure!”

I looked up at the booming voice, and my still-slimy hand was immediately grabbed in one of the heartiest handshakes I’ve ever experienced.  “Mr. O’Hara, and good to meet you, Harry!” the man boomed, as he attempted to unscrew my arm.  “My little Juliet has told me so many nice things about you!”

“Er, great,” I said, finally managing to tug my hand free and wondering if my shoulder socket would ever work again.  “About, um, Kiji…”

“Ah, yes.  I found him in the woods a few years ago,” Mr. O’Hara bellowed.  “He’s an ugly bugger, to be sure, but he was half-frozen, and I guess I’m just a big softie at heart!”  He reached over and grabbed at the monster, sinking his hands deep into its squishy, fleshy side as he made cooing noises.

I glanced at Jules, praying that this was some sort of elaborate joke, but she was just smiling back at me.  “Come on, let’s get you washed up for dinner,” she told me, tugging at my hand and leading me into the house.  “We’ve got meatloaf and broccoli, you’ll like it.”

As we went around the corner, I spared one last look behind me.  Mr. O’Hara was down on the floor, and had wrestled the monster onto what, on a normal creature, might possibly be called its back.  He was rubbing it fiercely, and the long tentacles seemed to be coiling and uncoiling rhythmically.  It was making a low sound, somewhere in between a purr and a death gurgle.

This was definitely going to be an interesting night…

I knew from the moment that I woke up that something was wrong.

I sat up, groaned, and reached up to rub at my eyes.  My alarm was beeping on the nightstand beside me, but I had no idea how long it had been going off.  I reached over and scooped the little clock up, holding it up close to my eyes as I fumbled for my glasses.

“Shit,” I grunted, as I read the time.  I was most definitely late.

I set the clock back down on the nightstand, and watched as it slowly sank into the wood.  “Solids variable,” I diagnosed to myself.  At least it hadn’t yet affected the bed – although it did feel even softer than usual…

I looked down, and realized that I was trapped in the bed up to the wrist.  It took several yanks and some creative cursing before I was finally able to wrench free, sending up a spray of liquid down feathers.  I quickly climbed up and off of the mattress before I was trapped any further-

-and immediately slipped and landed on the floor.

“Ow,” I groaned through an aching jaw.  My teeth had snapped together at the landing, and I’d nearly chopped the tip off of my own tongue.

I put my hands down on the hardwood to lift myself up, and they immediately slid aside.  I tried again, to the same result.  “Friction,” I muttered to myself.  Man, couldn’t I take a single morning off without everything going to hell?

I noticed that my slippers were on the ground a couple feet away, and I managed to snag them with one outstretched toe.  Fortunately, their exclusion programming was still in place, and they provided firm traction against the infinitely slippery floor.  I slipped them over my bare toes and managed to shakily lift myself back up.

After one look at the M.C. Escher-esque nightmare that my stairs had transformed into, I headed for my upstairs office.  There was no way I was getting lost in that fifth-dimensional tangled nightmare.

Halfway along the hallway, a young man suddenly popped into existence, dressed in military fatigues and holding a rather large and foreboding rifle.  “Grandpa?” he called out, lifting up the gun to his shoulder.

I punched him in the face and locked him in my linen closet.

After a few more minutes of walking down the hallway, I realized that even though I kept on halving the distance to my office, I was never reaching it.  “Stupid tortoise and arrow,” I grunted, reaching down to lower myself onto my knees.  On the infinitely slippery floor, I was able to slide that last fraction of an inch to cross the threshold.

I really shouldn’t have even slept in at all!  Given that I was surprised by sleeping in, it shouldn’t have happened at all.  But then I remembered that I’d addressed the Unexpected Hanging last month, and so it could once again occur at random.

In my office, I grabbed for the coffee maker.  I’d built the thing around a Boyle’s flask, so at least it was always full and flowing.  I took a large sip, trying to get my brain in gear as I pulled myself up to my computer.

The machine seemed to be taking forever to boot… “God dammit, Zeno,” I told the air as I realized what was happening.  I hit the key sequence to skip ahead instead of attempting to boot every sector.

I should have expected this struggle.  After all, this wasn’t the first time I’d slept in.  But good ol’ Hegel always seemed to keep on popping up, no matter how many times I squashed it.

Finally, I was able to get to my program, where I quickly began countering the errors that had popped up.  If I just sat here as an Observer, I knew, this wouldn’t happen, but even I needed to sleep every now and then.

Finally, with the errors mostly in control, I sat back, stretching, trying to remember what was in my refrigerator.  Maybe my future self, after I took his rifle away from him, would like a bagel or something.

The scout could already feel despair setting in as he cut along the path through the thick brush of the jungle.  He stepped past the carefully positioned leaves, making sure to set them back into position once he had cleared them, and then hurried through the little concealed clearing.

“Carter!  Carter!”  he called out, as he slipped past the grunts as they sat on the wet ground and rechecked their weapons.  The whole camp had been waiting on his return, hoping for good news.

They would be disappointed…

The captain stepped out from where he had been bent over a particularly recalcitrant piece of mobile armor.  “Henson,” he greeted the scout.  Captain Carter had excellent control over his facial features, but Henson knew the man was anxious for good news, like the rest of his unit.

Henson hated to disappoint.  But even before he spoke, Carter read his lack of a grin and knew what was about to come.

Carter had known from the beginning that the plan was FUBAR, even before that division of Reapers managed to slip through and gut half their artillery support before they were put down.  In fact, it was only through their captain’s quick thinking that the unit managed to stay largely together, cutting their own path out of the push of the main enemy force.  By tacking obliquely, Carter managed to use the minor ridgeline of the jungle as a shielding bank, and they hadn’t lost a single casualty even while they hewed down at least three squads of their opponents.

But even that quick thinking hadn’t been enough to account for what would happen to the rest of the army.

From the reports coming in, the rest of the troops had marched straight into a bloodbath.  The generals hadn’t expected their enemies to also have air support, those yellow drones zinging in on the six vibrating wings to spew wide sprays of stingers down on the men below.  Unable to move quickly in the dense jungle, most of the troop squads had been trapped and easy prey.

And then the orbital lances started falling – on their troops.

Carter didn’t know what had happened up above the clouds, how the enemy had managed to gain superiority.  But he’d been trained in the academy to always consider the worst case scenario.  Right now, that maxim was the main point keeping his team alive.

“Talk to me, Henson,” Carter commanded, sweeping his tools off of the hunched-over armor unit to clear a space.

Henson stretched out a leaf, clicking on his eye scanner to project down at the flat space.  A relief map of the jungle flickered into view, marked here and there with dots to signify enemy encampments.  “It’s not good, sir,” he said, trying and failing to keep the moroseness out of his voice.  “The enemy squads have aggregated back into their platoons, and they’re combing through the jungle in blocks.”

The scout pointed at several squares projected on the leaf.  “They’ve already sterilized these areas, it looks like,” he continued.  “They know that their lance splintered up our forces, and now they’re systematically mopping up all of the surviving groups.”

Staring down at the map, Carter shook his head.  “Damn,” he whispered, more to himself than to the scout.  The squad lieutenants were also listening in, and their frowns showed that they didn’t have any ideas.

Carter’s hand suddenly jerked slightly, tracking over to point at another square, off to the edge of the map.  “Here,” he said.  “This is where our dropship landed.  Any chance-“

“Casualty of the first orbital lance strike,” Henson cut in gloomily.  “They knew enough to cut us off from retreating.  They’re aiming to eliminate us here, not just inflict damage.”

One of the lieutenants sighed at this, but Carter just looked considering.  “Wait a minute,” he interjected.  “So they’re bringing everything to bear?  What about the command ship?”

The scout pointed to large purple triangle, hovering near the most recently sterilized square.  “That’s how they’re finishing off their grid sections,” he said.  “If they find resistance, enough to hold off their platoons, they move that in for the gravity lance.  Cut down our armor, mop up the rest.  It’s their strongest weapon.”

But Carter was already shaking his head.  “No, that’s their weakness!” he insisted, stabbing down at the triangle that represented the enemy’s command ship.  “They’ve brought their head down into play.  We kill that, and we turn their army from a focused force into cut-off little groups, just like ours.  We might have a choice.”

The suggestion was utterly ridiculous, but none of the lieutenants spoke up against it.  Carter’s ridiculous suggestions had paid off before, in huge ways.  That was how they were still drawing breath.  But one of the nearby troopers (Johnze, Henson thought?) coughed loudly.

“Cap, we can’t crack that thing’s armor,” he cut in.  “Not to shit on your petunias, sir, but our pulse guns won’t even scratch that ship.”

“Oh, ours can’t,” Carter countered, a grin dancing around his lips as his plan took shape, “but our artillery ought to rattle it a bit.”

“They lanced our artillery,” Henson pointed out.  “First strikes hit there.”

Carter shook his head.  “Orbital lances would’ve scattered them, but some of the squad commanders would have had the good sense to shut down and go dark,” he insisted.  “Terrance was over there.  He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“So… what?” one of the lieutenants asked.  “We’re going to single-handedly charge back in, rescue our own artillery, and then throw ourselves at the most powerful piece in their entire invasion force?  That’s insanity!”

“No!” Carter shot back, turning on the man.  The captain’s eyes were alight with fire.  “Insanity is not adapting, simply rolling over and accepting that we’ve been beaten after the first hit!  We can still win, but not through attrition.  We need a killing blow, before they break us down further!”

The captain raised his voice, pulling in the other troopers in the clearing.  “Come on, men!” he called out, his eyes blazing.  “They got the first hit.  Let’s make sure that our counterstroke doesn’t just knock a few teeth loose.  Let’s give them a broken damn jaw!”

Most of the men were already nodding.  They didn’t like sitting around, and Carter had earned his stripes in their eyes.  He’d kept them alive, and now he seemed to be the only one with a plan, sticking to a strategy.  But Johnze held up his hand.

“What if the artillery’s gone?” he asked.

“Then we patch the dropship weapons to fire!” Carter yelled back, slamming his gauntleted fist down on the armor unit in front of him.  “Dammit, we kill that command ship, and we’ve got a chance.  We don’t, and we’re just waiting for death.  And if I’m up against death, I want to stare it in the eye!  I intend to meet that skeleton only after he can climb the hill of my opponents’ corpses!”

Most of the other men were now on their feet, nodding and picking up their equipment.  They had a leader, a man with a vision in his eyes and a fire burning in his heart.  But next to Henson, that doubting lieutenant still hesitated.

“Sir, it just seems like such a long shot,” he said, clearly wavering on this decision.

Carter turned to stare down at the man.  His voice dropped down, from burning fire to frigid ice.  “These are my men, lieutenant,” he hissed, frost coming off of each word.  “And I intend to save every last one of them.

“Right now, we are fucked.  But there is always a way to seize victory – always.  Either I will find that way, or I will make one.”

There was nothing the lieutenant could do but nod.

Carter reached down and flicked a switch inside the hunched-over armor unit, and the machine slowly rose up from the jungle floor.  He reached down and scooped up his rifle, checking the safety and slinging it into the mount over his shoulder.  “Let’s move,” he commanded, advancing forward.  “Daylight’s burning, and your mothers are waiting for me to get back to base!”

And as the captain marched, the troopers fell in behind him, their faces set in grim determination.

Continued from Part I.

Two hours later, Decker was in the operating room, his hands scrubbed clean with a molecular wash by the nurse-droid, a layer of protective antibacterial rubber sprayed over them as a protective coat.  Mrs. Taggett was on the operating table in front of him, thankfully still and silent.  Her mechodist ranting had been replaced by the steady beep of the monitoring instruments.

Directing the nanowatt laser, Decker began the incision.  The small tumor was towards the back of the woman, by the spine, and he had to be careful not to pierce any organs.

Two inches in, the laser blinked, shuddered – and stopped.  Decker paused.  Did he hit something?  The laser was designed to cut through tissue and bone, just about anything short of metal.  What sort of obstruction could he have encountered?

His gently probing fingers, inside the incision, found something hard. It was unyielding at his touch, sharp-edged.  What could this be?

Slowly, with mounting horror, the doctor explored the object, feeling around.  It wasn’t until his fingers found a series of raised shapes, however, that he knew for certain.

Decker had learned to read by touch, a skill that helped increase his dexterity.  “Artificial bio-replicative digestive unit,” he read off, his words moving as he traced the patterns.  The object filled most of the lower abdominal cavity.

His mind was afire with this new discovery, but like a good surgeon, Decker didn’t forget his original goal.  He worked further, now forced to move around this large artificial organ, and eventually found the tumor at its spot at the back of the spine.  It was the work of a few minutes to remove it.

Outside the waiting room, Decker found Mr. Taggett waiting for him, his hands intertwined and twisting together.  “How was the surgery, doctor?” the man inquired, his eyes big and wide.

Decker narrowed his eyes at the man.  “What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded, not bothering with niceties.  He was in no mood to negotiate the tricky channels of diplomacy.

The man dropped his eyes to the floor.  “She’s always been so against the machine parts,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “Ever since I met her.  But when her stomach was failing, I couldn’t lose her!  So I told her that it was a minor operation, that it would all be fine.”

Mr. Taggett was shaking.  “I told her there might be some digestive troubles, but nothing else,” he breathed out.  “Please, doc, don’t tell her.  I think she’d kill herself.”

For a long minute, Decker just stared down at this little, owlish man, this man who had put inside his wife that which she seemed to hate above all else.   And then, finally, he let out his breath in a slow whoosh.

“We removed the tumor,” he said.  “She came into here to have a tumor removed, and it’s gone.  My work here is done.”

Dr. Alan Decker was already regretting picking up this patient’s file.  “What a disagreeable woman,” he thought to himself, staring down at the middle-aged female lying on the hospital bed in front of him, her hands gesticulating as she rambled on.

“Look, doc, I’m not saying that they’re all bad,” she went on, again waving her hands (and, incidentally, keeping Decker from taking a look at the place where he would be cutting into her in a couple of hours).  “But come on, they’re not human!  They’re basically just collections of gears and cogs, not even alive.  They don’t deserve the same rights as us, people made of real flesh!”

Decker had to struggle to control his eyes, preventing them from rolling.  Of course he’d get the hypocrite, the mechodist, the woman who hated androids even as her own flesh was failing her.  Instead of commenting, he forced himself to keep his neutral expression, gently but firmly leaning in with the power of authority.  When the woman’s hand flailed past him again, he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist.

“Mrs. Taggett, I need to examine you for your surgery this afternoon,” he stated, his ice-cold voice cutting through her diatribe.  “Please, if you can hold still, this will be quick.”

The woman glared at him, angry at being interrupted, but she stopped moving about, and Decker was able to lift up her hospital gown.  The nurse-droid had already been in here, marking the exact spot where Decker would make the incision.  If it was up to the doctor, he would have let the droid do the entire procedure – but this abhorrent woman had insisted on a human touch.

Now he could see why.

Everything looked to be okay, the doctor quickly decided, and he was free to leave.  “Wonderful, Mrs. Taggett,” he told the woman in the bed.  “We will proceed with the surgery this afternoon, and you should be free to go home by tomorrow morning.”

The woman shivered, but her angry eyes never left him.  “The sooner I can get out of this house of clockwork, the better,” she snapped.

Outside the room, Decker saw a small man, slightly huddled with owlish eyes, watching him as he emerged.  “How is she, doc?” he asked, stepping forward.  “I’m, er, Mr. Taggett.”

The husband.  “Everything seems fine,” Decker replied.  “It’s a minor tumor that is being removed, and there don’t appear to be any complications.  I won’t know for certain until I cut her open this afternoon, of course.”  He usually tried to avoid such direct language, but his temper was still running hot.

The diminutive little husband just nodded.  But as Decker turned to walk away, the man’s hand shot out to grab his arm.  The touch was light, almost furtive, but it made the doctor pause.

“Look, sir, just…” Taggett hesitated, and Decker wished he could shake the man and get him to just spit it out.  “Just don’t be too shocked, sir.  Trust me, it’s all for a reason.  Just don’t say too much to her.”

Decker had no idea what this meant.  But before he could ask, the little man turned and scuttled back into his wife’s room, and the doctor put this strange little exchange out of his mind.

To be continued!