Virtually His (7 page)

In a secret test facility, Virginia

“Okay, Agent 15, here’s your chance. Your operational status is green. Bilocate to target and tell us what you see.”

“Why is he shaking?”

Stop shaking. Concentrate, or you’ll lose their interest. Deep breath, deep breath…Zoom.

Dark. Dark. Tell them what you see….
“I see it now! Classified meeting. Nine men. Four in uniform, one with enough medals to add several pounds to his weight. Three in civilian suits and ties. Two in lab jackets. They are sitting in a half circle around a conference table, facing a media screen. Conversation is quiet, tense, with some of them shaking hands. Do you want me to go closer and get the conversation?”

“Jesus, I hate how we need to guide them through every step. Don’t they know that by asking them to look at the specific location, they’re supposed to get information? That means see and listen in, Agent 15, do you hear me? We want to know the person in charge of the new candidate.”

I hear you, fuckers. You’re my monitors and I’m remote viewing for you. What the hell do you want?

Zoom.

Random words. Relax.
“Okay, I’m going to concentrate on their conversation now. I’ll tell you what I hear when I surface.”

Give them what they want. Come on, Andrew, you can do this. Concentrate on the one with all the medals. Yes, yes, the words are audible now….

The Pentagon

“They don’t have time to send talking heads to negotiate or discuss anything, Colonel. They functioned as a center for covert subversive training and activities, and the less said about what goes on in there, the better. It isn’t in the business to explain itself to anyone, even to the President’s most trusted men. Because of that, it’s a good neutral place to test our candidate.”

“Such as the multilateral test that’s coming up.” The colonel frowned, disapproval on his face.

“Yes. The best candidate just happens to be one of their own, so they’re sure to want a lot of control over the tests. COS Center’s operative won, so they get to set the rules. Some of them, anyway. This is a historic moment, though, don’t you agree? Nine government branches, active and covert, working together for national security?”

The colonel snorted and muttered something rude in connection with Homeland Security under his breath. Audio feed from the speaker interrupted the conversation and the scrambled signal on the video screen cleared. Everyone’s attention turned to the image addressing them.

“We’ve reviewed each of your task forces’ lab and training reports. You were sent a copy of each, and we have agreed that the Center’s test offer is by far the superior candidate of the program. So everyone here is on the same page, we’re going to quickly go through the subject’s profile in the file in front of you. The first page is the medical report from the D.I.A. scientists. The subject’s mental and physical health is stable at ninety percent. Her psychological evaluations prove a strong psyche and system of belief. Her decision-making tests are in the top percentile. The stress chart shows excellent capability in multitasking. Positives—good attentiveness, quick grasp of situations, fearlessness, has been pretrained outside. Negatives—a tendency to independence and secrecy.

“Second are the combined reports from the Special Forces trainers from Year One. Physical endurance is above normal and completion of the one-year training with Special Forces was above average. Subject passed basic and advanced tests.

“Third is acknowledgment from the CIA task force in charge of Project Inner Space from Year Two. Their report is classified Red. Acknowledgment that subject finished Phase Two of Project Inner Space and showed no signs of mental stress or behavioral changes.

“Four is FBI background reports. Subject, as are most operatives in this contract agency, is an orphan. No family history available. No attempt taken to look for natural mother and father. Contract agency will not release information. We see this as a nonissue.

“Here is what the Center will provide at the next stage. We’ll combine—”

Secret test facility, Virginia

No! Zoom!

No, no, please, no! Zoom!

“Dark, dark…oh, no…I can’t hear anything any more, sir. I tried to focus on the screen, to see who’s talking and…it just turned dark. I hear nothing now.”
Blast of power. Really, really powerful energy.
“I heard him but I couldn’t see…him.”

“Dammit, Agent 15! Zoom in. It’s important to identify him.”

They don’t understand. Too strong.
“I tried…Can’t see any more.”

“Do it again, Agent. Zoom in. This is an order.”

“Tried.”
Zoom. Dark, totally dark.
“Tired. Mental block.”

“You’ll try again or there won’t be another dose, do you understand?”

“Please. I need…something…. Everything’s dark.”

“If it’s a mental block, you know you’d have felt it. Did you see any striking colors? Was there anything different?”

“No.”
Don’t want to tell them yet about that odd feeling. Too hard to describe. They’ll start asking harder questions.

“Maybe he’s really used up for us. We should just get rid of him.”

“No, too risky for now. We have some information at least. The new toy is ready for some tests. We just have to find out more.”

“We’re already familiar with all those phases. Hell, we’ve done a majority of them. What is the Center doing that we haven’t tried?”

“Let’s make him look again. Maybe he’ll get something new. Agent 15, do you hear me? We need you to go back in after you write up what you saw.”

“Write? Are you nuts? Look at the drool on the bastard. He’s all washed up. There’s no control over him, even after giving him the remote coordinates. We need another one soon.”

“It isn’t like we don’t have a bunch of potentials in this facility but we have to do this slowly. They’re garbage but their minds aren’t.”

Say something or they’ll put you in that dark place again. No more dosage. No more happiness…say something quick!
“Please! Please, please, I need it. Pain. Headache. Please.”
Bands of steel tightening.
“I need some rest to write the report. I promise…once…headache gone…I’ll look again. I’ll find out everything…. Please.”

“Give him another dose. We don’t have time for you to rest, 15. We know you like floating out there, messing with God knows what—”

Another dose? They’re giving me another dose so quickly?
“Oh yes, I can do this with another dose. I’m ready, of course I’m ready.”
I’ll stay away from the force this time. I’ll focus in on that voice and find out for them….

Zoom. Zoom. Oh, this is fine. Look at all the pretty lights moving so quickly. I don’t even have to adjust anything and I can still get them in focus! So cool. I don’t even need to hear the monitor’s voice anymore. No need to stay grounded anymore. What the hell for? I can stay out here and play with the lights….

COS COMMAND CENTER (COMCEN)

Kevin Kirkland liked standing where he was, listening in to the conversation that few were privileged to hear. Part of the reason came from knowing that no one from the Pentagon, except the other man in the room, knew that he was here. It put him in a trusted position, and he knew the man talking right now didn’t trust many people. Strangely enough, that was the topic of conversation at the moment.

“If you want her to trust me, then you’ll have to let me handle this my way. Her agency is now merged with mine, and I have more knowledge of GEM operation procedures than anyone in this room.”

The man’s voice was quiet and firm, with an underlying steeliness. From his angle, Kirkland had an excellent view of the wide screen. Four of the men were in uniform. The other five were heads of departments connected to high levels of national security. Their attention ranged from direct interest to skepticism.

“This is a Classified Flux type project. We’ve always monitored every operational target,” one of the men in uniform said. “This will be the first time we’re using an ordinary outside operative and giving her free rein to achieve a mission. You’re the monitor for us. Letting you handle this your way, as you put it, can put every mission in jeopardy.”

“The COS Center is possibly
all
Classified Flux, and we aren’t monitored in the way the military has to be, sir. I’m part of the V-Program, also a Classified Red project, and the success rate in our missions depended on our autonomy and secrecy. As for Miss Roston, I doubt anyone else would call her an ordinary operative, sir.”

“Aside from her being a woman, she’s still a contract agent, nothing we could count on,” one of the men pointed out.

“She’s from GEM and the operatives from there are highly regarded by every covert agency, national and foreign. COS Center has been working with them the last few years and our partnership has been very successful.

“Part of it is due to our training, but most of it is because of the ability of each operative to make quick decisions during his or her mission. In Miss Roston’s case, it becomes complicated with every agency—CIA, DIA, NSA, INSCOM just to name a few—having trained her and wanting to claim her as their own,
if the experiment is a success.
There is a danger of information dissemination, of too many cooks spoiling the broth. She’s GEM and therefore, she’s mine. This project belongs to COS.”

There was shocked silence as the men digested the speech.

“You’re saying that you want to make all the major decisions of every operational target, that we’re to listen to you?” The incredulity in the man’s voice echoed the stares of the others around the table.

“Yes. Have a good day, gentlemen.”

The man cut off the satellite feed and turned away from the screen. He punched the intercom on his desk. “Tell Derek to get the room ready.”

Now that the camera was off, Kirkland came forward. He’d listened in often enough to know exactly when to interrupt. He watched as his test patient unbuttoned his shirt with one hand while offering his other arm.

After a few minutes, Kirkland rubbed alcohol and drew blood, then checked his stats. He labeled the tubes, putting them away in a small case. “Same questions—no nicotine, alcohol or caffeine the past twelve hours?”

“No.”

“How’s the stress level today?”

“I haven’t killed anyone today.”

“At least you’re retaining your sense of humor after pissing off some of the most powerful men in our country.”

“It’s relaxing. You ought to try it sometime, Kirkland.”

“To each his own. Of course, I feel quite powerful now knowing that I have more information on what COS Center has been doing with Miss Roston.” The doctor smiled at the direct stare of the man in the chair. “Yes, I understand. That also means I’m potentially in more danger than most people.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you worry they’ll axe you?”

“No.”

“Why, if I may ask?”

A glimmer of humor appeared in the other man’s eyes. “They don’t like working with each other, Kirkland. They hate having things out of their hands. Yet someone more powerful than they are is ordering them to continue this research, year after year. Why?”

Kirkland cleared his throat. The answer was pretty obvious. Everyone wanted their own COS success story. “Because covert and subversive training work?”

The man straightened his elbow and Kirkland placed the Band-Aid over his vein. “The success rate tells the story. And as long as it remains so, they won’t question how we run things here. We pick and choose what we do, and we give them the results.”

“It was nice to see you defending Miss Roston, especially with their remarks about her being a woman. After working with her these past few months, I find her more than just the test subject those people view her.”

“Really?”

“Don’t you like her? You’ve talked to her, seen her up close.”

There was a pause. The man stood up and buttoned his open shirt. “She does have a sense of humor.”

“Especially the way she made you up as in the VR program.”

“Is this relevant for your evaluation?”

“No. But I’m curious about your reaction, that’s all. How does it feel to be seen as something you aren’t?”

The usually serious face of the project monitor cracked a slight smile. “I’m not the one who needs psych evaluation, Doc. She is. I’ve been through enough tests in this lifetime to know what you’re up to.”

The doctor sighed. Closing the file, he tucked it under his arm. “I suppose that’s why you’re the best for this phase. You have the experience to guide her, especially if the serum doesn’t go well with her system.”

“The test dose will tell.”

“The previous tests with soldiers gave the exact results we wanted, although we don’t know the long-term effects. It’ll be doubly important with Miss Roston, who has been subjected to so many programs. She should be a mess, but she’s remarkably stable.”

“Yes, Kirkland, I can tell you like her. I’ll take care to keep her safe.”

Kirkland cleared his throat. He hadn’t wanted to appear too concerned for Miss Roston, but he’d gotten to like the young woman.

The intercom buzzed. “Derek’s ready, sir.”

“Is she asleep?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Kirkland picked up his case. “Shall we go?”

“Wait.”

The man turned on his monitor and flipped channels. Helen Roston’s room at the Center was all gray, just as her test required it to be. But the woman in there wasn’t gray. Even from where Kirkland stood, she emanated a vibrancy all her own. The way she slept, on the right side of the bed, blankets kicked off. The way her features were perfectly composed, a small smile still playing on her lips. The way she was dressed, in a small shirt and underwear. Gray, of course. The way one long naked leg was tucked under the other. Helen Roston obviously didn’t mind being monitored half-naked. Just like him—Kirkland returned his gaze to his patient.

“If I weren’t a doctor, I would feel this is an invasion of privacy,” Kirkland said.