Altered: A Science Fiction Story

Arno sat in the back office with the door shut and locked, pretending to be watching the computer screen in case anyone looked through the window. His mind raced as the world slowed. It wasn’t unpleasant. The hormones flooding his system gave an odd sort of calm. But it was dangerous. The amount of adrenaline and other hormones his genetically altered body had been designed to keep him calm while he killed people.

The noises of a busy kitchen became white noise. It was controlled chaos. He tried to convince himself that locking himself in his office while they were slammed wasn’t dereliction of duty. He wasn’t in the military anymore, and his boss made more money off the tax breaks he got from employing Arno than he would lose from him taking five minutes to calm himself. Even more importantly, his name got the store mentioned in the newspaper every few weeks. That attention was the last thing Arno wanted, but he liked Mr. Gerino and it helped him make some money. None of that made him feel better about abandoning his team.

He took ten slow, deep breaths. It was absurd. He had been less afraid in combat. That was enough to get his hand on the door handle, but before he stepped out, he saw Zeta standing outside the office. She had worked with him long enough to know better than to knock on his office door unless there was an emergency.

Knowing that all he had to do was talk to Zeta made opening the door easier, and so he opened it just as she lifted her hand to knock.

“What’s up?” Arno asked, glancing over the short, blond woman’s head to see the store. Nothing was on fire.

“Orval is out back,” she said. She probably didn’t understand that just knowing that proved Orval trusted her. Perhaps he should tell her, but he was still relearning how to deal with civilians. Did they want to know how difficult things were for the altered, or avoid thinking about it?

He had never seen Orval inside a building. He didn’t know how much of that was his genetic altering and how much was what happened in the war, and he knew better than to ask.

He didn’t need to ask where Orval was. He simply went out the side door where Zeta took her smoke break. He didn’t see Orval and hadn’t expected to. Instead, he lit two cigarettes and leaned against the wall.

Orval appeared from behind the small brick wall that surrounded the trash bin. He was almost a foot shorter than Arnor and wore black sunglasses that completely concealed eyes. Without them, he was almost blind during the day. It also kept people from seeing his entirely black eyes.

Arnor handed the second cigarette to Orval, but didn’t put it anywhere near his mouth. He must be upset. Getting cigarettes wasn’t always easy for him, so he was usually desperate for one.

“Colonel Franks is in town,” Orval said.

“He’s in town every few months. Never does us any good. Also, he was promoted.”

“He has to listen to you,” Orval said.

There was a hint of hope in the soldier’s voice that made it impossible for Arnor to say no. And Orval was half right. Franks listened to him. He even pretended like he cared, but never helped. So Arnor halfheartedly tried one last gambit. “I’m at work.”

“That’s fine. It’s going to take a few hours to get everyone together,” Orval said, and he glanced around. Being in the open was uncomfortable for Orval, and he needed to disappear back into the shadows.

“I don’t know that we’ll need everyone,” Arnor said.

“Who do you suggest I tell not to come, sir?” Orval asked. The words weren’t entirely sarcastic. He would tell them not to come if Arnor said not to. But it also reminded Arnor that if he started giving orders, then they were going to treat him like an officer. No one wanted that.

“Fine, but if you can’t find Nadia, I won’t complain,” Arnor said. He had dealt with a lot of dangerous people, and Nadia was one of the few who scared him.

“She always knows,” Orval said, and he disappeared into the shrubs along the back of the parking lot faster than Arnor would have thought possible if he hadn’t spent years with genetically altered soldiers.

He was right. Nadia always had more information than she should have. And she was a sociopath. The rumor was that she had been normal before the gene editing. If that were true, then it was a whole new level of irresponsibility, and he wondered about the logistics of turning her back.

Not the physical process. So long as they had kept a genetic record, they could return people to what they were before. It was the psychological damage that couldn’t be undone. He knew some things Nadia had done, and he wasn’t sure executing her wouldn’t be more humane than returning her morality.

It wasn’t just her. He had been a soldier, not a spy, but he still woke up with nightmares most nights. The one that had made him famous and shortened the war wasn’t even the worst one. But while they had numbed his mind, they hadn’t made him a monster who didn’t care who he killed. And that was why he would go and talk to Franks.

But it would be several hours before his meeting, and he didn’t like the idea of abandoning his crew, so he took a deep, calming breath and then went back into the chaos.

Arnor pulled at his uniform. His dress uniform had never fit well. Altered soldiers weren’t made for dress uniforms. They were made to be the tip of the spear.

Every one of the several thousand soldiers had been an experiment. Some had been turned into spies or snipers. Arnor had been most similar to those of General Franks. The alterations still changed him, but mostly they had focused on endurance, strength, and other physical traits. That made him not only the perfect poster child for their project but what had let him get into the enemy command center at the end of the war.

Most of the other altered soldiers weren’t in uniform. Nadia wore a tiny red dress that would have been appealing if he hadn’t known her. It was as much a weapon to her as a gun would be to him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had killed people since the war had ended.

Orval was in the deep shadows. Besides the sunglasses, which blocked out almost all the light, he had put on a knee-length coat and pulled up the flaps around his head so he almost disappeared into it. And there were others Arnor didn’t know as well. He recognized the four moles who were still covered in mud and dirt from their tunnels, and a couple of people who looked almost normal.

And there was Hank. He was almost as tall as the rest of them while sitting in his wheelchair. That chair wasn’t as deceptive as Nadia’s dress, but it was deceptive. Hank didn’t need the chair. He was stronger than any of them and healed quickly. He was in the chair because it was almost impossible for him to eat enough calories to maintain his weight even without the exercise, and because he couldn’t stand up in most rooms without hitting the ceiling.

After asking himself why he had to be the one to speak for them, Arnor walked up to the checkpoint. It was designed for cars, so there was a thick piece of metal that hung across the road and large tire spikes that would stop anyone who tried to drive into the base.

Arnor stopped just behind the spikes, and two young men in cleaned and pressed combat uniforms, carrying guns like they were in a parade, walked up to Arnor. One of them said, “What reason do you have for coming here today?”

“We’re going to see General Franks,” Arnor said. He tried to sound as calm as he could while he spoke to kids that didn’t look anymore prepared for a fight than the ones working in the restaurant.

“He’s not seeing anyone today,” the kid said. He tried to put authority into his voice, but it cracked as he spoke. He was terrified, and yet he was standing his ground. Arnor thought he liked this kid.

“Do you know who I am?” Arnor asked.

“You’re Ziv Arnor,” the kid said, glancing at the uniform where his name was, but Arnor didn’t think that was how the kid knew him.

“And you’re telling me no,” Arnor said, his voice perfectly calm, though the adrenaline was pumping.

“Sir, I’m following orders,” the kid said.

Arnor reach out with one hand, grabbed the metal bar and lifted upward. The mechanisms that held it strained and then gave out. They were designed to stop a car rushing forward, not being pushed up, and so it wasn’t as hard to break as it might appear. Arnor would bet the kid didn’t know that.

He lifted his gun. He could have killed him easily. Any of them could have. Even Nadia had more combat experience than him, and she wasn’t a soldier. He pulled the gun out of the kid’s hand and threw it over the wire fence.

The second soldier had tried to swing his gun around, but he had frozen when Arnor took the gun from the other. Arnor looked at him until he lowered it, then said, “Tell the general he has visitors. We will wait here.”

The private turned and ran towards the center of the camp, leaving the other guard here alone and unarmed. After a few seconds, Arnor said, “So, did you watch the game last night?”

General Franks looked ten years older than the last time Arnor had seen him. He was also an inch shorter, and his eyes had changed to brown. That wasn’t surprising, but it was infuriating. The colonel had been altered, along with his men, to prove that he trusted the procedure and they could trust him. But his alterations had been less combat-focused and had less of an impact on his life. And now they were the only ones that had been removed.

Calming himself before he spoke, he said, “Your kid at the gate has guts. With some training, he might be a good soldier.”

“No one wants them to be good. The public saw what happened when we had altered soldiers and, more importantly, our leaders saw when happened when you got inside the enemy command bunker. No one says it, but they’re all afraid of you.”

“You’re not getting rid of the jets, tanks or drones, so what’s the difference?” Arnor asked.

“People are used to that,” General Franks said.

“The same way they’re used to you breaking promises. We joined your program because you assured us we’d be returned to normal when the war ended. I ended it. Now we expect you to follow through on your promises.”

General Franks stood up slowly. He looked tired, and he said, “That’s what you never understood. The powers that be will never let the wars really be over. The people in charge get too much power from keeping people fighting each other. Right now, half the politicians in the country are looking for the next enemy to scare them with, and the other half have already found one.”

“I was there. The war is over. There were seventy-three politicians in the bunker. I ended the war. Destroying their military hardware and disbanding their armies was an afterthought.”

“That’s why they have to find someone new. There is a chance of war in the south and an invasion in the west. Just be careful because there are more than a few who think it should be you.”

“If they’re afraid of us, why not take away the part they’re afraid of and make us normal?”

“There are rumors of other countries making altered soldiers. If we get rid of ours, it’s going to make people think the country isn’t secure.”

“We’re not soldiers, and this country is more powerful than any three other countries in the world. We just want to go back to our lives,” Arnor said.

“I’m sorry, but you’re too useful,” General Franks said.

Arnor watched General Franks for a few seconds, then he said, “You want something.”

“I need you for an off book mission. It’s why I’m in town,” the general said, and Arnor was reminded that the Generals tactical genius hadn’t been from being altered.

Waiting for a night with no moon felt like a hundred years, but Arnor understood. Even with his altered eyesight, he couldn’t see more than a couple of feet in the darkness, and Nadia was almost entirely blind, but he saw Orval with his sunglasses off for the first time since the war had ended.

He had forgotten just how big his friend’s eyes were, or how black. More impressive was that he was no longer hunched over and pulled into himself, so he looked several inches taller as he led them through the woods.

Nadia held Arnor’s arm, her long fingernails clawing digging into him. Orval returned for the third time. The man smiled a wide grin and said, “There were seven sentries. Someone knew what they were doing and didn’t rely entirely on the darkness.”

Arnor didn’t bother to ask what Orval had done. Even without his nocturnal improvements, Orval had been one of the best soldiers in the country, and in the dark when he could see perfectly. He had cut a hole in the metal fence, and there were two guards on the ground. Orval had bound their hands and feet, though they were still unconscious. He had also turned them so they were less likely to suffocate while they were unconscious. A subtle reminder they weren’t here to kill, and he glanced at Nadia, and he questioned bringing her.

But that didn’t last for long. When they reached the security door, Nadia pulled a piece of paper out of her bra and typed it in. Then said, “There’s a reason there weren’t eight guards.”

Arnor almost asked if the eighth guard was alive, but he decided he didn’t want to know.

He didn’t expect anyone inside the laboratory at night. But his only fear was that he would have to hurt someone if there was. This place wasn’t filled with politicians who were convinced they could send other people to fight while never having to pay the price themselves. But it was where all of this had started. Where they had created every one of the altered soldiers.

“So we steal the computers and General Franks will help us become normal again,” Orval said.

“That is what he said. But he’s not as good at hiding his physical reactions as when he was altered. His heart was racing and his skin flushed. He doesn’t want the data to help us. He wants it because it will give him power. But there is nothing that we can’t use it for the same thing. But that’s up to me and Nadia. You’ll be more useful outside making sure no one unexpected gets in,” Arnor said.

That wasn’t what they had agreed on, but before Orval could say anything, Arnor shut the door and the security door automatically locked. Nadia smiled and reached up, touching Arnor’s neck with her long, sharp fingernail and said, “That’s not the plan.”

“It’s not the plan I told you. But it is the plan. You get all the hard drives. I’m taking the live version of the virus that changed our DNA. We can’t make them help us, but that virus is contagious.”

“You don’t need me for any of that,” Nadia said.

“You’re here because they never solved the sickness. Ten percent of the infected people will die. That’s why Orval can’t be part of this,” Arnor said.

“It’s a good plan. It’s a shame you couldn’t have lived to see how it works out. But I promise I’ll see it through,” Nadia said.

As she spoke, there was a stab of pain where she had touched his neck. He rubbed it to see a tiny pinprick of blood. Nadia had done exactly what he expected. As he sunk to his knees, he hoped he was right. But whether the government gave a cure to everyone or if the population became powerful enough to defend themselves, one thing he knew for certain was that things would be different.

Author’s Note

I wrote this story years ago, and honestly, I didn’t remember how it ended. I think I like it. And while that probably shouldn’t be a surprise since I wrote it. But not remembering it made me think it probably wasn’t memorable. But I think it is. I hope you do as well.

Elton Gahr

Leave a comment

Share