The Epherium Chronicles: Embrace (17 page)

Maya helped him slowly walk to the edge of the mat. “I think I have an idea. My instructors called it constructive sparring. Two students would each perform an attack or defense, and the teachers would critique them at each interval. It was a very effective learning technique and less painful for the students involved. In this case, I want you to attack or defend, and I will tell you—”

“Why I got my butt kicked?” Sanchez interrupted.

“More of a critique of your technique and your plan for your next move,” Maya said as she simulated an attack, then a reaction to her opponents counter. “Your technique is good, Raf, but your overconfidence seems to cloud your sense of awareness. Skill can allow for many things, but awareness of an opponent’s next move is crucial in any form of hand-to-hand combat, as it is in ship combat. Correct?”

Sanchez looked at Maya’s face and found her gaze again. He stared hard and deep into her eyes and the soreness in his leg and chest melted away. He slowly nodded in agreement to her question then found himself sitting on the mat once again. Realizing where he was, Sanchez lifted his head toward Maya. “Okay. Before we start, I have to know something. I watched your workout earlier and truly, I have never seen anything like it.” Sanchez stood. “Now please don’t take offense, but what the hell are you?”

Maya smiled. “You are definitely not the first to ask me that question, and I don’t mind answering.” Maya sat down on the edge of the mat, and Sanchez joined her. “My father was a great geneticist, and definitely not a mad man as many of the stories have portrayed him. His wife suffered from Altain’s disease.

“Altain’s. Not sure I have heard of that one.”

Sanchez listened intently to her explanation. Altain’s was an extremely rare genetic disorder that affects motor functions, not much different than Parkinson’s, but would hyper-accelerate them. Those afflicted would suffer complete neuro-failure and before Maya’s father’s work began, no cure had been found.

There were no effective treatments to slow the disease and Julian Greywalker’s wife died before he could find a cure.

Sanchez shook his head slightly. “So when did you and all the other kids meet Dr. Greywalker. Were you orphans?”

“Actually, no. We were donated to him for his research.”

Sanchez moved back a bit, and a scowl started to show on his face, “Donated? Your families gave you to him for research? That’s barbaric!”

Maya’s voice hardened slightly. “No, Commander, you misunderstand. Altain’s disease was very rare, but there were several families affected by it. Those families looked into Dr. Greywalker’s search for a cure and donated embryos to him for his research. Each one of the embryos was tested and found to contain the unique genetic strains that could produce the condition.”

Sanchez relaxed. He felt really stupid and self-righteous, but he could tell Maya didn’t seem affected by it. “That’s a big sacrifice. Why couldn’t susceptible children be examined and a cure found that way?”

Maya placed her elbows on her knees, cupped her hands and rested her chin on them. “My father’s research had determined that the designs for a cure required a core sample group of potentially afflicted embryos that could be genetically modified in the same type of environment that spawned the condition. It took him two years to find a suitable remote laboratory on Mars and enough funding for the equipment required.”

“So you were grown in incubators?” Sanchez asked.

Maya nodded. “Yes, but our surroundings in each chamber were made to simulate a mother’s womb. The purpose was to provide a controlled environment for each of the children, so as they developed, it would be close to that of an actual pregnancy.” Maya opened her hands in front of her as she explained the process. “At each trimester, my father would make genetic adjustments to our DNA to combat the genetic defect. Once we were free of our birthing units, my father continued to adjust the genetic modifications until he had achieved a stable condition.”

“Did he find the cure he was after?”

“Yes and no,” Maya said softly. “His modifications not only cured the disease, but had a dramatic effect on all of us involved. The genetic binding that was required enhanced the hyper-neuro syndrome and made it a part of who we are, but the side effects were varied. Many experienced increased reaction speed, hyper-agility, increased strength, amplified senses and mental acuity. In each case, the common side effect was the color of our eyes and an enhanced lifespan.”

“So each of you have those bright blues, huh?”

Maya smiled. “Yes, all of us share this trait. My father called it a blessing. He said if he ever lost us in a crowd, we would be easy to find. Not that we ever went out.” Maya chuckled at that part and seemed to enjoy remembering that part of her father’s life, but the smile faded. The whole situation was alien to Maya. She kept her feelings, her very being guarded, and only showed her strict professional side. After all this time around other people, including her service time in the EDF, she was still unsure of how the rest of humanity would truly accept her as Maya Greywalker, the genetically altered “daughter” of Dr. Julian Greywalker. For now, Lieutenant Greywalker, Chief Security Officer, was all she presented, and it had allowed her to find a place in society. But she felt Sanchez was different. Her senses and her instincts both told her that he was someone she could trust. It was just enough for Maya to let down her guard and share with someone else how she felt.

Maya explained to Sanchez the accident that destroyed the lab just before her father was to begin the final stages of his experiments. The explosion and toxic gas that filled the lab took the life of her father and most of her siblings. Only she and two of her brothers managed to survive. Trapped in a sealed room, she watched three of her family run down the hall toward her, but they were overcome nearly twenty feet from the door. She stood helpless as she saw them gasp for breath, their lungs burning. They thrashed in fury to reach the door, but it was too late. Within a matter of seconds, the closest members of her family had fallen to the ground, their blue eyes looking upward, totally lifeless.

Sanchez was stunned. Maya’s explanation was filled with such pain. He felt like a complete jerk for putting her through the memory, but her face was serene save for a few tears just beginning to form in her eyes. “I’m sorry Maya. I shouldn’t have brought this up. I didn’t know.”

Maya batted away the tears from her eyes and re-tied her hair, “It’s alright, Commander,” she said with a hint of melancholy. “I have not spoken of this in a long time. It is good to share it. Keeping something like this bottled up for too long often brings up moments of emotional distress. Thank you.”

Sanchez smiled a big toothy grin at her. “You’re welcome.” He stood and helped Maya to her feet. “Alright
sensei
, I’ve got about thirty minutes before my next duty cycle,” he said jokingly. “How about we do this constructive butt kicking thing, huh?”

Maya, the sadness now gone, returned the smile and moved onto the mat. “I’d like that, Raf. Let’s begin.”

For the next ten minutes, Sanchez went through a series of opening attacks, and each time Maya would execute a defense. As she promised, they stopped after one move, and she showed him different methods to continue the attack or an alternative to his initial assault. The pair switched roles with Maya on the offensive, and Sanchez attempting to counter her. The second series was a little more difficult for Sanchez, as the first few attacks made it through to his rib cage, but Maya took the time to show him what he had done wrong, and how to correct and anticipate the next attack.

Their sparring concluded with a free flowing series of strikes and blocks from each other. The sequence lasted for a full three minutes and ended with Maya catching Sanchez’s right wrist after a failed punched to left side of her face. Sanchez stopped his attack and looked at her again in amazement. “What’s wrong?”

Maya shook her head and tapped his forearm. “This arm continues to telegraph your high strikes. Step through it again.”

Sanchez repeated the punch and held it still at the final apex. He moved his eyes to watch Maya as she moved around him for a better vantage point.

“It’s your elbow,” Maya explained as she held his left arm up in comparison to his right. “Each time it is raised above your chest it moves differently than your left. Probably a side effect of that broken arm you suffered in that bike accident when you were twelve.”

Sanchez’s face took on a look of disbelief and dropped his arms. “My what? How the hell did you know that?”

“It’s in your file, Commander,” Maya said flatly.

“Whoa. Just wait a damn minute. You read my file?” Sanchez said hotly.

“As the ship’s Chief Security Officer, I am required by regulation to review each personnel file of the Command staff, and any other member of the crew I feel requires evaluation.”

“So how many have you read?”

“All of them, Commander,” Maya said very calmly as she watched Sanchez’s reaction to the news.

Sanchez’s jaw dropped. “You’ve read the file for each member of the crew? You’ve been here what, four days? You must be joking.”

“In contrast to what many people think about my father’s children, we are not automatons. I understand humor in all its forms, and I am most definitely not joking.” Maya walked to the end of the mat and grabbed her towel. “I promised the captain a full security assessment of the crew and Command staff aboard this vessel. That assessment began when I first stepped on board. I have reviewed each of the standard personnel files, and I have already begun to observe many of the crew to formulate a social security environment. And since my duty has infringed onto your fragile sense of privacy, I think this conversation is over.”

Maya turned to leave, but Sanchez ran over to her. “Wait. Please, I’m sorry. I overacted, and I let my ego get in the way.” Maya stopped, slowly turned around and regarded him again with those bright blue eyes. “You’re right, you had every right to review my records, and I shouldn’t have taken offense to that.”

Maya continued to stare at him. Sanchez began to feel a bit unnerved, but he broke the tension with another question. “So that whole scent thing, was that real or did you get some of that from my file?”

“I gave you my honest assessment, nothing more.”

“Good,” he replied with another coy smile. “Well then, if you permit me, I would like to make this up to you.”

Maya raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips, clearly in anticipation. “What did you have in mind?”

“Popcorn.”

“What does popcorn have to do with this?”

Sanchez grabbed his own towel and sat down to put on his tennis shoes as he explained. “Rec time tonight after the next jump has a movie that I haven’t seen in ages. Join me for some popcorn and a tall glass of lemonade?”

Maya’s eyes softened as she considered his request. “What’s the movie?”

“It’s a real comedy classic,
1941
.”

Maya shook her head. “I don’t think I am familiar with that one.”

Sanchez stood and walked up next to her. “Come on, it was a comedy masterpiece back in the late 1900s. It had an awesome cast. John Belushi, John Candy, Dan Akroyd and Eddie Deezen. I used to love it as a kid, and it has been years since I saw it last.”

“So what is it about?” Maya asked as the pair began to walk out of the Rec area.

Sanchez put his arm around her shoulders as he explained. “It’s a great spoof about the days after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, primarily on the California coast. It’s really hilarious, you’re going to love it.”

Maya smiled as she lifted the first two fingers on the hand of Sanchez’s arm that was draped around her shoulders and calmly, but firmly replaced it to his side. “Sounds good. I cannot wait to see it. Actually, I thought you were going to invite me to your dinner later with Mr. Whitaker.”

Sanchez laughed and patted her shoulder. “Genetically enhanced you may be Maya, but I doubt you have the cast iron stomach for that one. Let’s stick with popcorn, especially since I won’t be the one making it.”

The two officers walked casually to the door that led to the elevator lift. Sanchez continued to gesture as he explained the movie to Maya, and as the doors opened he spread his arms to simulate a plane and soared through them and into the hall.

Maya stopped briefly to watch him, grinned slightly, and just shook her head.

Chapter Thirteen

EDF Armstrong
Deep Space Route to Cygni
Tuesday
,
January 21
Earth Year 2155
Eight Hours After Second Jump

Hood walked down the corridor, which led to the aft docking bay area, still holding a blueberry muffin he had grabbed from the officer’s mess a few minutes earlier. Two large cargo areas straddled the docking bay. Standing next to the cargo bay door on the right, in full Marine fatigues, was Major McGregor.

As Hood closed the last few meters between them, he could see the large grin on the broad shouldered Marine’s face which stayed even when he snapped to a quick attention posture. Hood finishing swallowing his mouthful of muffin and looked over at the cargo bay door. “Major, you said you had something to show me. What is it?”

“Aye, an equalizer, sir,” McGregor said as the door hissed open. He led Hood into the large room which was filled with a variety of containers and boxes of various sizes, but each was visibly labeled and stacked on large shelves that lined the room or in neat piles on the floor. In the back of the room at the edge of the shelves was a long row of crates each standing over two meters high. Each crate was marked EDF Weapons Development Division in large black lettering and stamped with the EDF logo.

As they walked toward the crates, Hood noticed another Marine standing in front of the last one in the rows. Dressed in full fatigues like McGregor, this Marine was a slimmer contrast to that of the burly major, but as Hood locked eye contact with him, he could sense the same steely confidence in his Asian facial features that McGregor exhibited. The Marine snapped to attention and saluted as Hood and McGregor approached. Hood and McGregor returned his salute, and they continued to walk to the edge of the crates.

Placed next to the line of crates was what seemed to be a large folded pile of neutronium armor plates. “After the war, Command looked to develop technology to counter the Tikis’ power armor suits that many of their warriors use. I think we might have it.”

McGregor removed a remote from his chest pocket and as he pressed the button, the pile literally unfolded in front of Hood’s eyes into a nearly three meter tall figure that reminded Hood of an armored Grizzly bear.

In the center of the armored unit, a hatch opened up to reveal a compartment that could easily fit a large person. Slightly in awe, Hood leaned forward and looked inside. There were no visible controls, but he could see two displays for maneuvering and targeting, and an environmental suit helmet with four thick but flexible cables attached to a panel in the back. Hood leaned back out of the combat gear and looked at McGregor. “All right, Major. You have my attention. What is this thing?”

“This is the next generation in ground forces combat, Captain. The boys back at EDF Weapons Research call it the Marine All-terrain Armored Combat Exo-suit, MACE for short,” McGregor explained with a sense of pride in his voice. “Back on Mars during m’ last mission, we had a few of the last prototypes with us in the tunnels. They helped save a lot of good Marines that day by clearing rubble and blasting open holes to get out men trapped in the ones that collapsed. These are the first production units off the line, and I’m bloody glad to have ’em, sir.”

McGregor pointed to the Marine by the crates and gestured for him to come over. “Gunnery Sergeant Toronaga here is an expert on these beauties.”

The young sergeant jogged over to Hood, who met him with a quick handshake. “Good to meet you, Sergeant.”

Toronaga gripped Hood’s hand firmly. “Likewise, Captain.” He gestured toward the MACE. “What would you like to know?”

Hood walked around the MACE, inspected the legs and arms of the monstrous machine then stood on his toes to get a better look at the MACE’s shoulder areas. “I don’t see any weapons. Are they built into the chassis?”

Toronaga shook his head and pulled out his data pad. He opened the file he had already prepared and handed it to Hood. “Only close quarters, sir. There are two sets of four built-in blades in the MACE’s forearms that extend providing almost claw-like weapons. As you might have guessed, the MACE combat system was designed to be an extension of the Marine piloting it. That helmet you saw in the pilot compartment provides a neural interface for the pilot, and all systems are integrated to whoever is in the chair. Once the pilot secures the helmet, a band at the top will attach to the pilot’s head to secure the interface.”

McGregor stepped up beside Hood and used his hands to outline the frame of the MACE. “Don’t let her look fool you. She may look bulky, but she’s fast, powerful and can mimic nearly any move a Marine pilot can muster. Tests for the running speed of these babies have topped out at eighty kilometers per hour, but I’ve heard that the eggheads back home ‘re working on improving that one.”

Hood’s eyes lit up. “Eighty kilometers per hour! That’s amazing. What else can they do?”

“As the MACE is designed for all types of terrain, it has a standing five meter vertical leaping ability and can be fitted with leg rocket assists for short burst climbs up steep terrain.” Toronaga had Hood move to the next page of the file. “The tactical weapons systems are modular and can be interchanged to accommodate any Marine specialty. The standard armament is the M420 Assault rifle fitted with a 70 mm grenade launcher. It’s a larger version of the standard Marine issue, but in the MACE it handles just the same.”

Hood continued to scroll pages and examined the different modules as Toronaga continued. “Each unit has three mounts for weapons or support gear that includes anti-tank weapons, rocket launchers, a 20 mm Vulcan2 mini-gun, sniper rifle, mine laying equipment, extra ammo storage and even a small set of anti-aircraft missiles.”

“Those buggars back home went all out on these things,” McGregor added. “Trials on the sniper weapons system alone had ten out of ten confirmed kills at three thousand meters.”

Hood handed the data pad back to Toronaga, walked over to the MACE and pointed to the plates. “How about their armor? Looks like neutronium interlock isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” the Gunnery Sergeant quickly confirmed. “Each MACE has three levels of protection for the pilots, the exterior neutronium armor, an interior polyweave armor liner and the pilots own protective environment suit.”

McGregor walked up to the MACE and tapped it hard on its left side. “The MACEs are built for any terrain, space, underground or underwater, you name it. Wherever we go, they can go.”

Hood crawled back inside the MACE and situated himself as an actual pilot. The space inside was tight and cramped, but he could easily extend his arms and legs into the suit’s extremities. “What about containment breaches?” he asked.

Toronaga reached in and pointed to a yellow striped handle covered in breakaway glass. “The suit has an ejection capability that can be initiated manually with that lever or automatically if the pilot is incapacitated.”

“What’s her power core?” Hood asked as he examined the primary activation controls.

“Neutron stabilized fusion core,” McGregor explained as he helped Hood out of the MACE’s pilot chamber. “The brass asked for a pidium enhanced core, but the power nearly ripped her apart. The head of research and development told m’ that it needs a whole new gyro system and internal structure to handle it. Might get it on the next version, if they can get it working.”

Hood started to walk down the row, counted crates, and looked back at McGregor. “How many did they give you?”

“Twenty-four, sir. I’ve decided to split them up. In addition to our assault tanks and APCs, these lassies will give us a full mechanized company in each brigade.” McGregor looked up and stared at the head of the MACE unit in front of him. He smiled. “I only wish we had these back during the invasion. The Tikis would have been in a world of hurt.”

Hood walked back to McGregor. “There are a lot of things I wish we had back when they attacked us. But I think we can all agree that today is different. If they come at us this time, we’ll be more than prepared.”

“Aye. That I agree, sir. If we get in a scrap out here or on Cygni, the Tikis won’t know what hit ‘em. That’s for sure. Would you like a quick demonstration?” McGregor asked.

Hood nodded, and McGregor looked at his Sergeant. “Gunny, mount up and show our good captain what she can do.”

Toronaga climbed into the pilot compartment and closed the hatch. It only took a few seconds for the MACE to power up, and Toronaga took a few steps forward toward the middle of the cargo bay. The MACE’s heavy feet clanged loudly on the thick metal floor, and Hood had to cover his ears to muffle the noise.

The Sergeant’s voice came over the MACE’s exterior vocal system as the MACE began to run in place, then stretched widely from side to side, accentuating the motion with its arms and legs. “As you can see, Captain, the MACE is very flexible, despite its size.” The floor of the cargo bay began to shudder with the impacts of the MACE, and McGregor provided Toronaga with a quick kill sign with his hands.

Toronaga returned the MACE to a standing position, and Hood was able to uncover his ears. The MACE extended both arms forward and four blades snapped into place from the upper forearms and covered the MACE’s hands. Toronaga moved each arm slowly in front of the MACE to allow Hood to visually inspect the blades. Then, he executed a whistling slash attack over Hood’s head that forced him to duck, even though it passed a full meter out of reach.

“What do you think, Captain?” McGregor asked.

Hood looked over at McGregor. His slowly forming smile said it all.

“That willl be all, Sergeant!” McGregor yelled to Toronaga, who then moved the MACE back to its original spot and exited the powered exo-suit.

McGregor grabbed his data pad, and once Toronaga was clear, he pressed the button on his remote to return the MACE to its storage state. As he escorted Hood toward the exit of the cargo bay, he pointed to the muffin Hood was still carrying. “How’re the muffins today?”

“The blueberry ones are excellent,” Hood replied as he held it up to inspect the number of berries he could see on the inside.

“Might have to get m’ a few of those this morning,” McGregor said. “Speaking of food, how was your dinner last night? I thought there was a good turnout for Mr. Whitaker’s wager victory supper.”

Hood swallowed the last few bites of his muffin and nodded in agreement. “My salad was delicious. I gave Commander Sanchez a recipe for a balsamic dressing that turned out great. How was your steak?”

McGregor stroked his chin as he thought of a best way to describe his experience. “A little tough, I would say. I mean it was still good, but I usually like mine on the medium side. All the ones he served were well done. But the seasoning was good.”

Hood coughed. “You mean it wasn’t smoke and charcoal?” he said jokingly.

“Nay. He used a marinade that was teriyaki I think, but he just let ’em cook too long.” McGregor shrugged. “Hell, I’m used to about anything I get in a foxhole or on maneuvers, so nothing fazes m’ much these days.”

“Well at least it’s good to see he’s improving.” Hood laughed as the door to the cargo bay closed behind them.

* * *

Twirling her blond hair with her left hand, Lieutenant Juanita Wells slowly walked down the hallway from her quarters which led to the deck’s elevator lift. Her duty shift started in about twenty minutes, but her mind was elsewhere.

The twenty-four year old Communications Officer was still replaying the vids she had received from her family over and over again her mind. Especially the one she received from her oldest brother. He was the first member of her family in two generations to sign up to serve in the military and he was her inspiration. During his last mission, he received the EDF Valor Crest, the EDF’s highest honor for bravery. After her graduation from the academy, her brother gave her the medal and she was determined to make him proud.

Wells rounded a soft corner in the hallway and stopped when she heard a loud noise. Just ahead she noticed a female EDF combat pilot in a flight suit banging loudly on a crew quarter’s door.

“Krieg!” The pilot yelled, as she continued to pound on the door. “Dammit man, our patrol starts in ten minutes!” She paused briefly for a response then continued to hit the door with her balled fist. “Come on! I know you’re in there!”

Wells let go of her reverie and walked over to the pilot. “Ensign, what’s the problem?”

The dark haired pilot stopped her pounding and looked at Wells. Recognizing her rank, she immediately straightened to attention and saluted. “Sorry ma’am. I was trying to rouse my other squadron leader for patrol. We are due on station in a few minutes, ma’am.”

“At ease, Ensign. It’s okay,” Wells replied calmly. “Are you sure he’s in his quarters, Ensign...?”

“Thielson, ma’am,” the young ensign stated as she pointed to the door’s computer console. “I checked with the computer. Lieutenant Krieg has not left his quarters since he arrived. I have tried to reach him on comms, but he didn’t answer. I have been out here trying to get him to open up, but I can’t get him to respond.”

Wells looked at the door then the computer control console. “Have you tried contacting security to open the door?”

Thielson shook her head. “I was just about to when you arrived, ma’am. But...”

Wells pressed two buttons on the door’s control console. “Computer, this is Lieutenant Juanita Wells. I am requesting a security override for the door controls to Lieutenant Krieg’s quarters.”

The female computer voice responded, “Please provide command control override verification code.”

Wells closed her eyes briefly as she tried to remember the code. Confident she had it, she moved closer to the console as she spoke. “Code is Wells, one-one-six, alpha-five-four-nine.”

The doors opened as the computer acknowledged Wells’ code. “Command staff override protocol confirmed, Lieutenant Wells. Please be advised, security logs will be updated to reflect this access.” Thielson rushed through the doors as they opened. “Do you require any additional assistance, Lieutenant?” the computer asked.

Wells paused momentarily at the door and shook her head. “No, that will be all. If I require anything else, I will contact appropriate personnel myself.” The computer console returned to its standby mode, and Wells followed the ensign into Lieutenant Krieg’s quarters.