Andromeda

Chapter Three

The morning sun cast its light upon the surface of the Potomac River, creating a picturesque yet imposing canvas of the capital city of Washington, DC. The helicopter flew over the vast river and touched down on the helipad on the northern side of the massive structure that was the Pentagon. As the propellers slowed to a stop, the rear ramp descended. From the interior of the helicopter, Dr. Park emerged. 

As he made his way down the ramp in an electric wheelchair, he was greeted by a group of armed soldiers. At the head of the party, a tall, burly man stood in contrast with the rest of the group. He wore an open leather jacket that billowed in the wind caused by the propellers and a pair of black sunglasses over his cold and solid expression. He seemed to be staring off into space until the wheels of Park’s chair touched the helipad, and then he turned his attention to him.

“Dr. Park?” the man’s low voice called out over the roar of the helicopter.

“Yes,” Park replied as he wheeled over to meet him. The man towered over Park in his wheelchair and he took it upon himself to make sure he knew it. His stature was great and would surely be intimidating to the average person.

“Agent Nichols, CIA. I’ll be your security escort today. Welcome to the Pentagon.” The man extended a firm hand for Park to shake. His grip was so strong that Park almost thought he was going to dislocate his knuckles. “This way,” Nichols gestured toward the motorcade behind him. 

They approached a black stretch limousine. The driver was standing ready to open the door for them. As he did so, an automated ramp extended from inside, allowing Park to conveniently enter the vehicle. It seemed they really were expecting him. As Park situated himself inside the spacious limousine, Nichols stepped in behind him and the driver closed the door before heading to the front. A moment later, the limousine began its slow departure from the helipad, flanked on all sides by a military escort.

Despite the size of the luxury vehicle, there were only two other people inside. One of them was a senior military officer, that much was clear to Park. He had a full head of gray hair and a war-weary expression that rivaled Nichols’. His uniform was decorated with a variety of service ribbons and the patches on either shoulder containing a line of three stars told him that he was a general.

The man sitting next to him, however, was far more important. He looked about twenty years younger than the general and wore a fine, black two-piece suit, and Park recognized him immediately as the Secretary of Defense.

“Good to see you again, Doctor,” he said as reached out to shake Park’s hand.

“Secretary Grady,” Park returned the greeting.

“You’re looking well,” Secretary Grady said pleasantly. “How was your trip?”

“It was fine, thank you,” Park replied, narrowing his eyes into a hardened expression. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Secretary, I’d like to forego the pleasantries. I know why I’m here.”

Grady sat back in his seat, looking down his nose at Park with a faux smile. “Very well, Doctor. I’m sure you must be very eager to resolve this situation in as timely a manner as possible. I’m here to make certain of that.” He directed Park’s attention to the officer sitting next to him. “Allow me to introduce Lieutenant General Cline Melsom. He is the man behind the men you have been reporting to for the last five years on Project Machina.”

“Is that right?” Park said quietly, his eyes falling on the general.

“Your reputation, er, precedes you, Doctor.” General Melsom glanced down at Park’s wheelchair as he spoke. Park narrowed his eyes at him with a hint of distrust.

“Well, thank you,” Park said insincerely.

“General Melsom will be running point on the situation regarding our missing asset,” Secretary Grady added. “I understand you have been heading the search efforts for the last twelve months, Doctor?”

“Thirteen months now,” Park corrected him, “and yes, we have been diligent in our efforts, but I’m afraid-”

“Say no more, Dr. Park,” Grady raised a hand to silence him. “In the interest of plausible deniability, I will not be a part of the conversations between you and the good general here.”

“I understand, Mr. Secretary.”

After about ten minutes, the motorcade came to a stop before the Pentagon. As Park exited the limousine, he took a moment to marvel at the sheer scale of the structure itself. He had only been here once before, when he had been brought in to discuss the details of the project he was appointed to head.

“This way, Doctor,” Grady said as he led the way into the building. Park and Melsom followed closely behind him, flanked by Agent Nichols at the rear. 

Once inside, they were ushered through a series of metal detectors and thoroughly patted down by security. They made their way throughout the corridors, passing dozens of high ranking government personnel and military officers, many of whom diverted their attention to say, “Good morning, Mr. Secretary.”

Finally, they came to a lone elevator at the end of the hallway where two guards stood on either side.

“VIP,” Grady said as he strode toward them. The one on the right gave a nod of his head as he pressed the only button on the panel beside the elevator. The doors instantly parted and Grady stepped aside for Melsom and Nichols to enter. He then turned to face Park. “This is as far as I go. I leave you in the more than capable hands of General Melsom. Good luck, Doctor.”

Park reached out to shake his hand before driving his chair into the elevator. There were no buttons on the inside, only three distinct key slots. Melsom quickly produced a key and inserted it into the uppermost keyhole. After turning the key, the elevator lurched before descending. Nobody said a word, but after about five seconds, the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.

Park took in his surroundings as they exited the elevator. They had emerged into what appeared to be some sort of war room. It was about the size of a small theater, and there was a long, elliptical table that stretched the entire length of the room. The far wall opposite the elevator contained an array of large monitors, all of which were inactive. The war room was quiet as a tomb right now, but Park got the sense that a lot of international operations began right here.

“Have a seat, Doctor,” Melsom gestured toward a spot at the far end of the table. Agent Nichols strode ahead and moved the chair away for Park to position himself in its place. From there, he took a step back and stood behind Park with his hands resting in front of him. Melsom stood at the front of the room just below the monitors. His back was turned to Park as he cleared his throat to begin speaking.

“Very bad business, Dr. Park,” Melsom opened with a grim tone. “Do you know what purpose Project Machina was meant to achieve?”

Park straightened up in his chair. “Project Machina is a top secret military funded operation to develop a new line of genetically enhanced - not to use the term lightly - supersoldiers.”

Melsom turned around and sat down at the chair just across the table from Park. “A little on the nose, your description. The end goal of the project is to create a clear path to preserving American lives on the battlefield.”

Park let out a huff. “You clearly weren’t there that night, General. You must have seen the reports, though. Tell me, did you get a sense that American lives were saved?”

Melsom leaned forward against the table. “That was on you to ensure, Doctor. If there was a problem with the M-gene-”

“There was no problem with the M-gene,” Park interrupted him. “I perfected it myself. I spent the last twenty years developing its potential. It is the crowning achievement of my career, and my life.”

“So it works then?”

Park leaned over the table as if to match Melsom’s demeanor. As a triumphant smile grew on his face, he said in a low voice, “It works phenomenally. I have seen its power up close and personal.”

“That you have,” Melsom commented.

Park’s smile faded as quickly as it appeared and he leaned back to rest in his chair. “I’ll tell you this, General. I didn’t agree to be appointed to this project for your visions of war and chaos. I did it because it’s the next phase that I am truly after. The M-gene has shown remarkable potential in the arena of military applications, but one can only imagine what this means for the greater good of science. We’re talking about cures for diseases, deformities, the possibilities are endless! If you want to talk about saving lives, that’s where the true miracles will lie.”

“And I wish to see you get there, Doctor,” Melsom responded, “but this is the step we are on right now, and right now we need to discuss the current issue at hand. In the past year, you have managed to lose not one, but two of our assets. Would you care to share the details with me?”

Park took a deep breath full of a great deal of stress. “There were nine subjects of Project Machina in total. The first seven were completely successful and connected to the Machina Uplink. The latter two are presently unaccounted for.”

“The Machina Uplink,” Melsom interjected. “What is that exactly?”

“The Machina Uplink is a neural programming embedded within the cerebral cortex that enables the subjects to synchronize communications in order to coordinate their efforts during operations.” As he explained, Melsom narrowed his eyes to telegraph a loss in translation. “In layman’s terms,” Park continued, “it’s a sort of hivemind.”

“A hivemind, you say?” Melsom said, sounding impressed. “So you’re saying these subjects could communicate with one another from anywhere at any time in a manner that is completely untraceable?”

“In theory, yes,” Park nodded. “However, it’s impossible to know for sure considering no field tests have ever been conducted.”

“So let me ask you this,” Melsom continued. “Could you not track your missing assets through this uplink?”

“Again, in theory, but it’s not as simple as that, I’m afraid. Subject Nine’s program was never connected to the uplink. As for Subject Eight, I cannot speak to that.”

“Why not?” Melsom asked.

Park hesitated for a moment, diverting his eyes as if deep in thought. “Because we don’t know for sure what happened when we lost Subject Eight. All we know is that his connection to the uplink was cut off.”

“And when did this happen?”

“Shortly before the incident with Subject Nine. Two weeks, give or take.”

A penetrating silence followed. Melsom sat back in his chair and let out a sigh of frustration. “I’m going to be frank with you, Doctor,” he began at last, switching to a much more serious persona. “This has gone far enough. It has been thirteen months now since the incident involving this Subject Nine, and we have kept our distance from your efforts to recover both missing assets in the interest of keeping the sensitive nature of this operation away from any unauthorized eyes. As a matter of fact, the only reason you are not sitting in a federal prison right now is due to your substantial contributions to the project, but we cannot tolerate any more stalled efforts. This is why you have been summoned to the Pentagon, Doctor. I am assuming direct command of the efforts to locate and reacquire our missing assets.”

Park’s heart began beating harder. Part of him was afraid he would hear something like this. “Let me guess. You want me to spearhead operations?”

“Spearhead?” Melsom said with something that sounded like a laugh behind his voice. “Heavens no, Doctor. If I had good faith in your abilities in this regard then you would have found the assets by now. I want you to share every bit of information you can offer regarding the subjects to aid in our mission here. Agent Nichols will be your point man. From now on, anything you need, you bring it up to him.” At that moment, Melsom stood to his feet, giving a quick nod toward Agent Nichols standing just behind Park. He then turned and made his way back to the elevator at the other end of the room. “Take all the time you need to prepare, Doctor. The rest of the team will arrive later today.”

Park watched the general as he stepped back into the elevator. As the doors closed to seal him off, he could have sworn he saw a sinister smile appear on his face. He turned his head to look back at Agent Nichols, who brought his arms up to cross them in front of himself. The movement shifted his open jacket, as if he intended to reveal the handgun holstered to his waist. Park gave a heavy sigh, accepting the cold, hard truth that this was going to be his prison for the foreseeable future; and beyond then, who could tell?