U-10

Cruneval’s pallid, overweight appearance was misleading. He carried the injured Frost as if her weight and limp body were mere inconveniences.

Although the trek through the maze of corridors to the interrogation room took several minutes, he didn’t break a sweat. Ty knew they had arrived at their destination because of the SEED guards sprawled across the corridor floor near the entrance to the interrogation room. He realized the black-winged midges dotted around their noses and ears were deactivated alien drones.

Ty activated his suit comm and said, “We’re at the door. Open up.”

Roadkill opened the door a crack to confirm all was well and threw it wide for them to enter.

“Put her on the table over there,” Sasquatch motioned as Cruneval stepped into the room.

Cruneval marveled at the size of the man. He made the dead Muriak seem small by comparison. He perceived other people in the shadows but couldn’t make out any details. Doing his best to feign compassion, he put Frost on the table and backed away with a fake look of worry for her well-being.

With no warning, a tall, black figure glided next to the table. It moved in a smooth, inhuman way. Pincers, near what must have been its mouth, moved back and forth. Its flexible ears twisted, and it chittered.

Cruneval froze at the sight. He had seen several dead aliens, but never a live one close enough to touch. He started to reach toward the thing’s body when a hand grabbed his arm.

“Don’t,” Psycho warned. “He shouldn’t be distracted right now.”

“What did you find that will help her?” Ty asked.

The alien chirped and trilled. It held something in its hand that looked like a blister pack containing three orange capsules.

“I don’t care. Give it to her,” Ty replied.

The alien chirped and grunted. It didn’t appear happy with the demand.

“He can communicate with it?” Cruneval asked.

“Anyone wearing one of the bodysuits can. They have a built-in translator,” Psycho replied.

“What did it say?” Cruneval asked. His curiosity mitigated any pretense of remaining aloof.

“Koritt said the only thing that might help her is one of the orange capsule things. Problem is the capsules are designed for medical repair of Insectoid metabolism. The nanobots in the serum might not work or have unknown effects on Humans,” Psycho answered.

Cruneval became thoughtful. He was staring at a medical breakthrough. A drug with the ability to cure injuries and perhaps all kinds of sicknesses. He began visualizing worldwide fame by healing the maimed, the broken and the despondent. Then his mind wandered to the military aspects of advanced nanobot technology, and he forgot his momentary lapse toward the good of society. Nanobots capable of causing death or serious injury would be invaluable. A greedy smile began twitching across his face.

***

Ty was examining Lincoln for other signs of injury when Koritt stepped to the table.

“What did you find that will help her?” Ty asked.

“This is the only medical device I could produce from the few cards available,” he said, holding out a blister pack containing three orange capsules. “But I hesitate to use it.”

“What’s the problem?” Ty asked as he reached for the pack.

“These capsules are infused with nanobots designed to heal injuries and sickness specific to my Insectoid genome. They are not intended for use on Humans. There is no way to foretell their effect on her.”

Just then, Lincoln gave another bubbly moan and her brow wrinkled in pain. She squirmed a bit and went silent. She looked pale and weak. Ty got a determined look.

“It might have the opposite effect that you desire. It might even kill her,” Koritt said.

“I owe her the chance to live. She was trying to help me when she was shot,” Ty muttered.

“Have you even considered the possibility she would object to the treatment?” Koritt asked.

“She’s not capable of giving me permission, and I’m not going to let her die,” Ty snapped.

Koritt realized he was wasting his words. Lavender was going to give her the capsule no matter the consequences. The dichotomy of Human thought processes was astonishing.

On the one hand, Humans killed other living beings or anything else that presented a threat without a care about future consequences. On the other hand, Humans exhibited random compassion that stopped their murderous actions based upon the silliest of ideas.

Koritt had witnessed Lavender make conscious decisions to spare enemies who moments before had tried to kill him. His decisions were at times based on ideas of fairness, other times forgiveness and less often, guilt about his own failings. There was no telling what the Humans’ reaction would be to learning they were bred like cattle to satisfy the profit motives of an alien company. If Humans took offense to the revelation, Koritt decided he didn’t want to be associated with the Bureaucrats.

The crackling snap of the cellophane packaging as Ty pushed one of the orange capsules into his hand broke into Koritt’s thoughts.

“How long for results?” Ty asked as he put the capsule between Lincoln’s lips.

“I cannot say. This is new territory. If she was me, the effects would begin to show after a few minutes.”

The capsule dissolved and the small, orange pieces that Ty thought were liquid crawled into her mouth. The substance didn’t act like a liquid. Instead of flowing between her teeth onto her tongue, the orange substance seemed to move as if it was walking on miniature feet. It slithered over and between her teeth and disappeared with alarming speed. Ty discovered he was holding his breath in anticipation of some kind of reaction.

Lincoln’s brow wrinkled, and she convulsed. Her body stiffened as if jolted by a powerful electric shock. Steam combined with a red mist began rising from the bullet holes, and she screamed and twisted.

Her convulsions were so intense, Ty grabbed her to keep her from flopping off the table. Her neck wrenched from side-to-side, and her screams turned to groans.

The skin around the bullet entry wounds began turning black and hard like chitin. Her fingers bent claw-like, and her knuckles enlarged. Her body temperature increased, and her skin became ruddy.

“Help me hold her,” Ty yelled as he threw himself over her chest.

Sasquatch tried to grab her flailing legs and, after being kneed in the face, decided lying on them was a better alternative. Wraith struggled to hold her head steady.

The convulsions eased and then stopped. Lincoln sighed and her body seemed to deflate. Her skin cleared, returning to its normal color, and her fingers relaxed back into Human shape. Only the black, chitinous covering over the bullet holes remained.

Ty and Sasquatch released her, and Wraith covered her with a blanket. She seemed to be sleeping. With a jerk, her eyes opened, and she stared about with a wild, crazed look.

Sitting up, she clutched her chest, and said, “I’m shot!”

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Ty said, touching her arm. Welcome back. How do you feel?”

Running her fingers across her chest where the bullets had struck, she felt the hard shells covering the healed wounds. Looking down, she picked at the chitin coverings where the bullets had struck her.

“What happened? What did you do?” she asked.

There was no sound of relief or thankfulness in the question. Her words were more an accusation. Ty held up the blister pack.

“Koritt used the U-10 to create something to fix you. It worked,” Ty said in as positive a tone as he could muster.

“I don’t feel right,” Lincoln said. “My gut itches.”

“I couldn’t let you die,” Ty said.

Lincoln rubbed her thighs and lower legs. “My skin feels hard - cold,” she cried as she hugged herself. “My arms,” she wailed.

Ty reached for her, and she shunned his touch.

“You poisoned me!” Lincoln shouted. “Look at me. I’m turning into an insect!”

Moving fast, she grabbed Ty by the shirt and threw him. Her strength was amazing. He flew through the air and bounced off the concrete wall several meters away. Jumping off the desk, she crouched low and leaped toward the open door.

Sasquatch tried to tackle her, but she evaded his grasp. Seizing his wrist, she twirled and threw him across the room like she was throwing a fastball. He slammed into a wall and didn’t move.

Wraith chopped at Frost’s neck with a karate chop. The blow landed but had no effect. With inhuman speed, Frost clutched Wraith’s forearm and flipped her into the desk, knocking the blankets and the blister pack with the remaining capsules onto the floor.

With everyone’s attention on the fight, Cruneval slid the blister pack toward him with his foot, picked it up and stuffed it under his shirt. No one noticed him take it.

Backing toward the door on the other end of the room while everyone else focused on Frost , Cruneval slipped through it and trotted toward the nearest exit.

Psycho and Fisheye teamed and grappled with Frost from opposite sides. They pinned her arms, trying to knock her off balance. With a bizarre twist, instead of bending forward to free herself from their clutches, she curved her torso from side-to-side. The inhuman way her body moved surprised them. Combat trained to anticipate Human reactions, they were caught off guard by the impossible physical movements. Their grips loosened and Frost stiff-armed them with enough force to knock them off their feet.

Leaping for the doorway and into the corridor, she scrabbled about for a weapon. Grabbing a pistol off one of the guard’s bodies, she scuttled away. An odd, guttural chittering faded as she disappeared.

Ty tried to follow her, but Koritt blocked him.

“She needs time to process what is happening to her.”

“She needs our help. You lied to me about those pills,” Ty yelled.

“No, you didn’t listen,” Koritt replied. “The U-10 was not designed to be used by aliens.”

“You’re the alien, not me!” Ty growled before the absurd nature of his statement dawned on him.

“Sorry, Koritt, you’re right.”

Turning to Wraith, Ty said, “Find the pill-pack. We need to destroy it.”

Nodding, Wraith searched the desk, kicked at blankets and slid the desk aside to look under it. There was no sign of the pack, and she began widening her search area.

Sasquatch, holding his shoulder, walked over and helped Fisheye stand.

“She threw me like I was a stuffed animal,” Sasquatch marveled. “I’ve never been manhandled by anyone, ’specially a woman.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Psycho grinned. “Can you believe those moves?”

“Yeah, Koritt. I haven’t noticed that kind of physical strength in you. What’s going on?” Sasquatch asked.

“It appears the nanobots are trying to modify her Human body to match their programmed idea of my healthy genome. The process would require the fabrication of genetic mutations to ‘repair the injuries’ diagnosed. The fusing of Human and Insectoid genetics will continue until the nanobots are satisfied they have healed all injuries.”

“So you’re telling us she’s going to change more, and there’s no way to stop it?” Ty asked.

“Until the nanobots fulfill their programming, the changes will not stop,” Koritt sighed.

***

Cruneval burst through the final exit into bright sunshine. Blinking away tears as his eyes adjusted to the change, he tried to calm his hammering heart.

Pulling the blister-pack from his shirt, he whooped for joy. He held the future in the palm of his hand. Visions of wealth and power floated through his mind as his imagination leaped into high gear.

His scientists could change the programming of the nanobots to make the Human genome the foundation of the genetic changes while imparting Insectoid characteristics for strength and endurance. Even if they couldn’t reprogram the things, from what he’d seen of the changes in Frost, the modifications were internal anyway. What to call his new breed of man? Metahumans? Supermen? Indestructors? Impatience began eating at him as he stared at the capsules. As soon as enough volunteers were tested, he decided to dose himself. No more fear of assassination.

A dark fog began to creep into his daydreams. Lavender’s crew knew the truth. The cricket still existed. There was no way they would keep quiet about the true source of the elixir. The only sure way to guarantee they remained silent was elimination.

Realizing his eyes had at last adjusted to the outside light, Cruneval trotted toward the airstrip where the Seeker sat on the tarmac. With its special weaponry and hovering capability, he could devastate a good-sized city. Attacking his headquarters to root out Lavender, his squad and the alien would demolish the building, but he had been thinking about remodeling anyway.

Jogging past the downed spacecraft, Cruneval waved and shouted to let the soldiers Muriak had left guarding it know who he was and not shoot him. He decided not to tell the men about the deaths of Muriak and the guards in the building. He wanted them angry and indignant, not scared of the unknown.

“Agent Muriak and I were interrogating the crew of the spacecraft when, without warning, we were attacked by a horde of Insectoid aliens. They were wearing some kind of blue, sparkling armor that rendered them invisible. We didn’t know they had infiltrated the building until they began shooting. Without mercy, they cut down some of your comrades and were coming for me when I decided enough was enough,” Cruneval bragged.

“I grabbed a gun and emptied two clips into them. They weren’t expecting that kind of resistance, and after rescuing their crew, the alien bastards retreated. They’re hiding somewhere in the headquarters building. I decided to use the firepower of the Seeker and tasked Agent Muriak to keep them hemmed in the building. I hate to destroy SEED Headquarters, but we can’t afford to let the aliens escape.”

General grumbling affirmatives told Cruneval his story rang true.

“What are your orders, Sir?” the platoon leader asked.

“Leave a few people to maintain control of the spaceship. Take the rest of your men, surround the building and wait for my aerial assault. My barrage will force the aliens to vacate the building. Let no one escape. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir. Do you want prisoners?”

“These aliens are too dangerous. Shoot to kill anything in a blue bodysuit,” Cruneval replied.

Continuing his jog toward the airstrip, Cruneval grinned with satisfaction.

“This day is turning out better than expected.”

***

“I can’t believe a Base full of your soldiers couldn’t catch one Insurgent driving through your camp like he was on a Sunday afternoon joyride,” Thann fumed. “Clumsy morons.”

“You’re the one who brought him here in the first place, and you’re the one who ordered him freed from his restraints,” Travis shot back. “Stop trying to paint me with your incompetence.”

The communicator on the desk beeped, and Travis grabbed it. Listening for a moment and nodding, he hung up.

“It looks like your Insurgent friend didn’t get far. An RPG took him out less than a quarter kilometer outside the main gate.”

“The Insurgents do what your men couldn’t do and kill one of their own. Competent and ironic at the same time,” Thann smirked.

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Travis asked with no little contempt.

“He’s right. Director Cruneval is expecting us. There’s nothing more we can do here,” Turner said as he holstered his weapon.

With one last scowl, Thann followed Turner toward the airfield. Her last temper tantrum consisted of slamming Travis’ door hard enough to rattle the walls.

Travis looked through the torn window screen and shook his head at the sad state of his flower bed. Delicate blossoms he tended every evening lay crushed and scattered. Frowning, he decided to replace them with a long spined variety of cactus. Not only would a desert landscape better cope with the hot and sandy environment, it was adapted to protect itself by thousands of years of evolution.

“The next jerk who jumps on my garden will rue the day.”

He was wondering whether an aloe plant would do well in the Afghanistan climate when he heard a jet thundering off the runway.

“Good riddance,” he muttered as he watched it disappear into a cloud bank.

***

Lincoln trotted down the third floor hallway and grabbed the doorknob to her apartment.

To her dismay, the knob crushed under the force of her grip and wouldn’t turn. Ramming her shoulder against the door in frustration, she was amazed when its metal core, hidden by a wood veneer, bent inward. Encouraged by the results, she slammed the door again, and it opened with a bang.

Rolling the shoulder she used to force the door, she realized it felt normal. Taking off the top of her alien flight suit, she inspected herself in the bathroom mirror and saw no injury. There was no bleeding cut or bruising on her shoulder despite the violence necessary to break the door. The bullet entry wounds still looked like dark chitin and felt hard to the touch, but otherwise her skin looked and felt normal.

As if to confirm what she remembered, she turned to look at the apartment entry door. The steel sheathing was dented inward, and the top hinge was loose where the screws holding it to the metal door frame had stripped loose and twisted.

Marveling at her demonstration of strength, she said, “Wow!” The word came out of her mouth as a gurgling chitter, and her wonder turned to panic.

Turning back to stare at her reflection, something about the way her eyes appeared drew her attention. Her normally dark-brown irises were spotted with tiny, red dots, and her pupil was star-shaped.

Leaning forward for a closer look at her eyes, she put her hands on the sink countertop to balance herself. The countertop broke off its wall supports, and the strained water pipes feeding the faucet burst. Frustrated by the unforeseen mishap, water from the broken pipes spraying into her face and onto the bathroom floor, Lincoln reached under the sink, grabbed the cold water shutoff knob to the broken faucet pipe and twisted.

To her dismay, the shutoff valve broke off the end of the pipe, and the water flow increased to a torrent. Angry and panicked, Lincoln grabbed the one centimeter galvanized pipe between her finger tips and squeezed. The end of the steel pipe collapsed like a drinking straw, and the water flow almost stopped. Encouraged by her success, Lincoln crimped the pipe end backwards and pinched. The water flow stopped. Taking care not to break the other shutoff valve, she managed to turn it off.

Grabbing a towel to dry herself, she noticed her fingers felt awkward. Holding her hands out, she discovered that the ring and little fingers on her hands had fused together into one, thick digit.

Her eyes welling with tears, she shrieked an anguished cry that sounded like a whistling gasp, “Ty, what did you do to me?”

***

“We’ve got to find her,” Ty said.

“She needs time to adjust to her new condition,” Koritt replied. “The nanobots are still repairing her. There is no telling what physical and mental changes they have made.”

“Mental?” Ty exclaimed.

“The bots are programmed to heal all parts of the body. The brain is a part,” Koritt said as if he was explaining something obvious to a schoolchild.

“I can’t find the capsule pack. I’m guessing that Cruneval character swiped it when he got away,” Wraith said.

“We need to leave this area,” Psycho urged. “You can bet Cruneval is going for reinforcements. This is the first place they’ll come looking for us, and we have no real defenses.”

“I agree with him,” Sasquatch said. “We should get back to Elvis and relocate to a more strategic place.”

“Sir, I agree. I’m more valuable working with Elvis than I am shooting. Elvis and the spaceship are assets we need working for us,” Hashtag said.

Ty knew his team’s logic was inescapable. He decided to compromise.

“Everyone back to the ship except Koritt and me. He’s more familiar with the U-10 and the effects of the nanobots on Lincoln. I’ve got to find her and try to reverse what’s happening to her. The rest of you keep the bad guys away from this building.”

“I’ll go with you,” Wraith offered. “Your attention to detail has been spotty in the last few hours. You need someone to watch your back.”

Ty was about to say No when Koritt broke into the conversation.

“I think she’s right. Once we locate Frost, she may have to be subdued long enough for me to analyze her condition. Having someone guarding us while we work is a good idea.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, make a decision now. Cruneval’s been gone long enough to cause mischief. We need to move,” Roadkill said.

Ty could tell he would waste his breath objecting. Nodding, he watched his men begin gathering their things.

“Hold up,” Koritt buzzed. “There is something you may find useful if you get into a skirmish.”

Selecting the remaining card, he inserted it into the U-10 slot. The pouch expanded, and he pulled out what looked like a square silicon mold with four baseball-sized cavities covered by a flat snap-on lid.

“Nice piece of Tupperware,” Hashtag grinned.

Handing the contraption to Roadkill, Koritt said, “Fill the pockets with any substance. Dirt, sand, water, sawdust - anything will work. Seal it with the lid and wait for the green light. This produces four grenades.”

“What’s the kill radius?” Roadkill asked as he stuffed the mold under his shirt.

“The devices are programmed for field-sweep. Hold one of the grenades in front of you and press its green button. A straight line will appear on the ground with arrows pointing away from you. Orient the line so it is between you and your attackers. The arrows must be pointed toward them. Once the line is set to your satisfaction, press the grenade’s red button, drop it and step back. Just remember not to cross the line you established for at least ten seconds.”

“That’s it? Nothing else?” Roadkill asked.

“It doesn’t need anything else,” Koritt responded and stalked toward Ty and Wraith.

“It doesn’t need anything else,” Psycho mimicked in a lip-twisting sneer that made Sasquatch chuckle.

“Let’s go, Wraith. You take point. I’ll bring up the rear,” Ty said. “We’ll have to clear the building floor-by-floor.”

Slipping through the door leading back into the hallway, they edged past the guards’ bodies and began to search for Frost.

***

Exiting by the same door Cruneval used to escape, Roadkill and his fellows followed a concrete ramp toward ground-level. They had to see landmarks in order to find Elvis.

They walked onto a landscaped sidewalk that surrounded SEED Headquarters and were looking for tell-tale signs of the crash site when Sasquatch grunted. A bullet hit him in the chest and flattened when it struck his blue bodysuit armor.

Ducking from reflex, they heard the delayed sound of the gunshot. Bullet holes started appearing in the ramp walls above and behind them. Concrete chips and dust clouded the area. The sound of automatic gunfire became continuous.

“Where are they?” Psycho asked as he pointed the machine gun he had taken from one of the dead guards toward the trees and returned fire.

Roadkill and the others started firing at random, but they couldn’t get a clear look at their attackers. The sidewall of the ramp away from the building sloped shorter and shorter as it neared ground level which limited available cover, forcing them to stay low. From the angles and directions of the shots pinning them down, they realized their position was compromised. They were trapped, and, sooner or later, they would be overrun.

“Low on ammo,” Fisheye said.

“Me, too,” Hashtag mumbled as his gun burped again. “I don’t think knives are going to help us.”

Roadkill pulled the device Koritt had given him and looked around. There was a little windblown sand, a few small sticks and some leaf debris lying against one of the ramp walls. A weathered paper cup with a cover and drinking straw were the only other items he could see besides the brass bullet casings ejected by the machine guns. Something caught his eye and he smiled.

“Hashtag, help me gather up all the spent brass,” Roadkill shouted as he began raking the nearby shell casings toward him.

Hesitating for a moment, Hashtag grinned and scrambled about gathering handfuls of the metal casings. “Dirt, sand, anything will do,” he chortled.

Roadkill started dumping handfuls of casings into the depressions of the Tupperware container until they were filled. Snapping the lid into place, he watched for a green light. Seconds later, the entire lid glowed green. Wrenching the lid off the device, Roadkill saw the spent brass had fused into hemispherical ingots. The flat top of each hemisphere was embossed with thumb-sized green and red dots.

Grabbing one of the ingots and recalling Koritt’s instructions, Roadkill said, “Cease fire. Let’s see if this gizmo works as promised.”

Crawling to a point where the sloping ramp wall still provided some cover, Roadkill thumbed the green button and looked for a line of light with arrows. A line of orange-colored light emanated from the rounded end of the hemisphere and arrows appeared pointing toward Roadkill and his teammates. Roadkill rotated the lump one hundred and eighty degrees, and the arrows turned until they were pointing toward the enemy.

“Here goes,” he said.

Holding his breath, he thumbed the embossed red dot and placed the hemisphere on top of the ramp wall.

A curtain of white light, ten meters tall, flashed into existence. The light curtain was several hundred meters wide on either side of the ingot and danced and wavered like a candle flame. Roadkill could still hear automatic gunfire, but no bullets penetrated the light.

The curtain began moving away from the ramp, gathering speed as it swept toward the gunmen. It outlined objects like trees, bushes and rocks as it scoured across the landscape. Roadkill was mesmerized by the movement, and his eyes didn’t blink until he saw the first orange flicker. When the light curtain encountered the body of a SEED gunman, the body seemed to pixilate into a thousand sparks that burned fast and winked out.

The light movement was fast and left no time for their adversaries to run away. After ten or eleven fiery sparkles, Roadkill lost count. The curtain flowed across the landscape for close to a quarter kilometer and then faded into nothingness.

“Wow!” Psycho whispered. “Always make sure the arrows are pointed away from us.”

“You still have three of those things left?” Sasquatch murmured.

“I think it targeted anything warm-blooded,” Fisheye said. “I saw it fry some birds and a few squirrels. Wicked.”

Shaken by the carnage he had unleashed, Roadkill said, “I don’t think I can use this tech again. It has no filter. It will kill as many innocents as it will bad guys. What if a hospital or a school full of kids is in its path?”

Taking the remaining ingots and stuffing them in his pack, Psycho said, “We can’t just leave them lying around. In the wrong hands, they’re worse than a nuclear bomb.”

“Let’s get to Elvis. My enthusiasm for this mission is fading fast,” Roadkill said.