December 17th, 2267. 10:45 Vosture Prime – John’s Homestead

Anger. Righteous anger. Elias was seeing red upon reliving his dear friend’s death. So desperately did he want to end John right here right now. But a lone dissenting voice amongst the chorus that says otherwise was the only one he could hear within his mind.

“Did you set out to kill him that evening?” Elias asked, “Or was he collateral damage?”

John paused for a moment to remember the death, “I originally wasn’t following Kaius, that he showed up when he did was most fortuitous for me. Obviously, my immediate plans changed when he came into focus.”

“You had followed the mole previously.”

“I did, I was planning on killing him that night. But when he went to the park I held off on my plan and wanted to see who he was going to meet. Imagine my surprise when the second in command of the hostile forces appeared out of the blue.”

Elias shook his head. In hindsight, they should have shut down the operation right then and there and gone underground. But he thought that he was in an unusual position actually to ask the aggressor their opinion on the matter.

“If we had ceased our operations and gone underground would that have made any difference?”

“On that day? I didn’t know where your backup site was. To be honest, your final plan of moving there was rather a brilliant bit of a large-scale bait and switch plan,” John took another drink, “But it didn’t take long for me to figure out where the new site was. Especially after that weekend.”

“You think the time to ‘cut bait’ as your people say was not when Kaius was murdered but the infamous weekend?”

“Yes, but I would’ve left the world at that point and accepted defeat. Better to lose and live, than fight on and die needlessly,” John said, “Speaking rather selfishly I’d prefer to avoid a war, they aren’t the greatest things to happen you know.”

“Biologically our bodies have been enhanced so as to not suffer heart attacks. How did you accomplish that?”

“Clearly you aren’t immune to them as he did suffer from one. If anything, that ought to prove to you the infallibility of such genetic modifications,” John swiftly retorted.

Elias tilted his head a bit and gave John a puzzled look. A look that John didn’t see as he continued to focus on the shuttle’s trajectory and destination. To Elias, John was almost disinterested in this conversation, but the intelligence he had gathered thus far was illuminating, to say the least.

“I know I’m drifting this conversation off-topic, but please go on.”

“How many generations ago did your people deem themselves immune to heart attacks?”

“Two, it was my grandfather’s generation, though my fathers were the first that had received the necessary corrects to our genetic code.”

John nodded, “Did your granddad get that modification, or did your dad?”

“Both sets of grandparents did. Why?”

John unlocked his data slate and transferred something to the main screen. It split in two and showed six bodies that were spinning around slowly. Elias winced when he noticed the names listed for each.

“Obviously you know that five of these were your former comrades. The one in the top left corner is yourself. Your heart is actually weaker, and more susceptible to heart attacks and general heart disease, than those that were born the first generation after receiving the treatment.”

John paused to take a drink of water, “You see, your doctors are fighting a losing cause. The human genetic code doesn’t want perfection. If anything, it demands a degree of chaos, that’s how it ultimately gets stronger.”

“Our bodies are healthier, and we don’t suffer many afflictions that the dregs of humanity do,” Elias said spitefully.

“That is true that your immune systems are stronger than a baseline human and within a reasonable margin with homo sapiens superior. But the issue here is that you have elevated your bodies beyond your station. Without stress and danger, it no longer has to fight as hard as it does in order to grow and advance. Instead, it recedes,” John took a deep breath, “Some modification makes sense, but the widescale use that your people are doing it will have long-lasting consequences. It isn’t a question of if, but when that happens.”

“We will have to…”

John interrupted Elias, “Elias, there’s no disagreement here. This is what our bodies do. It is hardwired into our code and no amount of manipulation is capable of undoing it. Your leaders two centuries ago decided to go down a direction that eliminated evolution from the equation. Your people’s genetic code is a house of cards. Weaken it enough and everything will fold in upon itself. The proof that it is not working as you intended over a period of time is in front of you.”

“For the sake of argument, what do you presume will happen?”

“Now that’s a fascinating question. The scientists who have reviewed our genetic programs have agreed that the end result is sterility or significantly reduced fertility. That is coupled with general sickness, poor health, birth defects, and increases in congenital issues.”

“We don’t…”

“Of course not, you correct the new issues. At some point, the house of cards you’ve created is going to fall down. When it does, it won’t be a pretty sight. Imagine a generation that struggles to get pregnant. Couple that with sickness and congenital issues and your population could collapse over twenty years,” John said before switching the topic back, “Did giving up and going home ever cross your mind?”

“Not then, no. I was convinced that the mission was achievable still. Never could I have imagined that data slate was swapped out though.”

“A nice bit of handiwork on my part.”

“How did you avoid detection?” Elias sounded perplexed.

“Kaius was too comfortable in his situation and didn’t have sufficient situational awareness. Plus, he got distracted at the fair. He had a sweet tooth,” John paused and looked back at Elias, “Do you not have restaurants, confectionaries, or other such guilty pleasure types of stores back home?”

“Restaurants yes, but they are nothing like this fast-food thing you have here. They are all fine dining establishments,” Elias smiled as he thought of better times back home, “We didn’t go out very often, usually only for special occasions.”

“I much prefer cooking a meal together with my wife, or just cooking for her. Far more enjoyable than going out to eat in my humble opinion,” John smirked, “I have to keep her happy though, so we end up going out to high-class places all the way down to some delectable hole-in-the-wall style places.”

Elias ignored John’s statement in its entirety, “You are saying Kaius wasn’t checking his surroundings?”

“Correct, he was more focused on eating or finding the next sweet treat. I didn’t see him check over his shoulder or anything,” John turned back to look at the screen, “An elementary action in intelligence one absolutely must not do.”

“Mistakes, in retrospect I see just how many damn mistakes were made,” Elias said, “How things would be so different if we did a few things differently.”

“Well, I got shot and stabbed, those were two mistakes I remember rather vividly,” John smirked, “You know, I forgot how much both hurt when they happen to you.”

Elias looked puzzled for a moment, “You make that sound like this has happened to you before.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Yeah, it’s been over a decade since I was shot last. Sucks that that clock got reset,” John smiled, “I’d prefer to never be shot again.”

“Unfortunately, I doubt very much that your wish will come true.”

“Ah well, a man can dream. I presume your new base of operations was tense?”

“As was the old one before we left. Leaving may have been one of those mistakes, but I think leaving caused some personnel issues that ultimately doomed the mission. But before then, you said you killed the leaker, why?”

“I wanted to close any loose ends. And this individual had inserted himself as a known variable in the equation I wrote. To be frank, he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but I didn’t care to have him on the page,” John took another drip and rolled the amber liquid around in his glass as he stared at it, “So I ended the man and removed him from the equation.”

“How did you do that?”

“It wasn’t without complications…” John trailed off.

5 Months Ago. August 1st, 2267. 00:03 Main Street

John was driving back through the street fair. He was pleasantly surprised that it was still going on. However, at the same time, he was frustrated because of the terrible traffic.

“I have located the residence of one Terry Frederickson,” Eve said, “Additionally, there doesn’t appear to be any movement in the enemy’s base. Your elimination of one of their agents has thus far gone undetected.”

“Display the fastest route to his residence in the HUD,” John said as he inched his motorcycle forward.

“Route displayed, though in truth there are no fast routes, estimated arrival is sixty-five minutes because of this traffic.”

“Wonderful,” John responded sarcastically, “Bring up a dossier of this jerk-off.”

Eve paused then began collating all the data she could on this man of dubious loyalty. Five minutes later, and barely half a block forward towards his destination, the dossier appeared in his visor. Terry was a divorced father of three children, two being adults. The youngest split time between his and his ex-wife’s home.

“Is this kid supposed to be at his or his wife’s home?”

“According to records, it is his former wife’s week. However, I cannot confirm whether they followed the custodial agreement this week.”

“Anyone else live with him?”

“Terry has a long-term girlfriend, but they have their own residences,” Eve paused then continued, “It is within the realm of possibilities that she is with him.”

John looked down at his dashboard for a while, “I’d prefer to limit the collateral damage, but…”

There was no response from Eve. What could a VI say to such a question? John was worried about what he may be forced to do. He may have been cleared to do anything he felt was necessary, but limiting collateral damage was something he generally tried to do while on this mission.

Sure, he did frame some random druggy for the murder of Paulus but said person was a multi-time felon. They weren’t good or decent people, and they did need to be in jail for a variety of things that they had done. It was a coincidence that John ran into the man when he did, but he didn’t see that as collateral.

As he slowly moved through traffic John reviewed the general floorplan of Terry’s home. Thankfully he lived in a single-family home in the Medina Heights suburban development. That would make entry and egress far easier.

Thirty-five dreadfully slow minutes later John finally got through the worst of the traffic downtown. He was making the most efficient and straightforward path to Terry’s home. One thing and only one thing was on John’s mind, ending this man’s life. A man he had never met, a bit player in the drama that was unfolding in this campaign.

Twenty-five minutes later, thanks to some reckless driving, John was approaching the exit ramp to the Medina Heights suburban development. He slowed his breath and heartbeat down. It was time to get back into a killer’s mindset. Ironic, given he had already murdered someone in the name of duty earlier this evening.

“Eve, kill the cameras as we drive to his home,” John said calmly.

Once he received the affirmative, he merged into the exit ramp and sped off to his destination. The HUD pointed him in the correct direction. After taking a left off the main thoroughfare, he was driving through a rather quaint and cozy neighborhood. Single-unit homes were on his right, and multi-unit dwellings were on his left.

That changed when he took one more turn to go down the street. His destination was three blocks away on John’s right. The goal of most colonists was to achieve home ownership. The people here had achieved this goal. Medina Heights was one of four satellite developments focused on home ownership and individual unit homes.

John rolled up to the stop sign and slowly came to a stop, “I kinda like this neighborhood.”

“I doubt the neighbors are going to appreciate what will be done here momentarily,” Eve responded sarcastically.

“Ouch, when was the last time you had your subroutines scrubbed?” John’s response sounded almost hurt.

“Thirteen days. The next schedule clear is to occur in three point two hours.”

“Once we get back on the highway, I’ll have you run that ahead of schedule.”

“Confirmed.”

John drove another block ahead but rolled through that stop sign when there were no cars coming from either direction. He switched his lights off and crept forward until he got to Terry’s home. The exterior lights were turned off. No motion-detected lights were present on the home either. That caught John by surprise.

He rolled up onto the diminutive driveway and turned the bike around to face the street. The bike shut itself off when he kicked out the kickstand. John stepped off the bike and pulled his helmet off. After setting the helmet on his seat he pulled his stealth hood over his head.

While the hood wasn’t going to activate, because he wasn’t wearing a stealth suit, it would work temporarily to give him night vision inside the foreign home. And in the unlikely event there were any witnesses, no detailed physical descriptions would be given.

John walked over to the gate leading to the backyard and lifted it slowly and quietly. He stepped behind the gate and slowly behind him. It was as if John was a thief in the night. At the corner of the house, John paused and peeked out from the other side of the house. Nothing of note was in the backyard, but he did see a small deck a couple of feet off the ground that led to a large sliding glass door.

“There is my entry point,” John said as he rounded the corner and sneaked forward, “Are there any security systems in this house?”

Eve paused but then quietly responded, “Yes, but they are deactivated for some reason.”

“Better to be lucky than good,” John said under his breath as he slowly opened the door.

The house was eerily quiet. John paused when he thought that and shook his head. The house should be quiet. For starters, he wasn’t even supposed to be in this house. And if one wants to get a good night’s rest then it ought to be quiet.

“Sometimes I’m an idiot,” John said to himself.

John slowly walked through the kitchen and made it to the stairs. Halfway to the second floor, there was a landing where the stairs made a ninety-degree turn. He placed one foot on the stairs and slowly lifted himself up the steps. No creaking was heard beneath John’s feet, the lack of that sound was welcome indeed.

There was a small creek when he stepped onto the landing. John froze in place and waited. And listened. But there was no reaction to the small noise. At that point, John reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol and suppressor in separate hands. In the darkness, he waited as he slowly screwed the two items together.

John then continued to creep up the stairs. When he got to the second floor he waited as he looked around and tried to identify where the master bedroom was. Rather frustratingly, the floorplans seemed to suggest two large bedrooms, both with walk-in closets and bathrooms.

True to form, the first bedroom that he searched was not only not occupied but was not being used as a bedroom. After a short curse, John made his way down the hallway and stood in front of the door. He held the doorknob with his left hand and quietly opened it. He stepped in and to his great surprise, he saw a woman stare in his direction from the bathroom door.

A loud and terrified shriek emanated from the bathroom. But as quickly as she screamed it ended. A deep “thwomp” sound followed by the sound of a piece of brass bouncing off the wall could be heard just before the screaming ended. A ten-millimeter hollow point was fired and struck the woman in the head. Her now lifeless body fell unceremoniously to the floor.

“Motherfucker!” shouted Terry as he threw something at John.

John instantly felt a sharp pain in his left arm. He turned quickly and fired five rounds rapidly. Terry was left staring at the ceiling as his blood stained the bedroom. His body spasmed for a moment, and then all movement ceased. John then turned and ran out of the room.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” John said as he hopped down to the landing.

He sped down the last half flight of stairs, hung right, and headed right for the main door. He tucked the pistol inside his coat. The door was flung open as John sped for his bike.

“You have a knife sticking out of your arm.”

“Thank you, Eve, I can feel the fucking thing in there,” John said as he pulled the mask off and shoved it in his front pocket.

He pulled on the motorcycle helmet and set the kickstand back. The bike’s electronics then activated, and he sped away. Just as he did so he noticed the neighbor across the street and next door to him witness him drive away.

“It seems we have been noticed,” Eve once again spoke.

“Scrub your sub-routines now,” John said as the bike screamed down the road.

He got onto the freeway in a couple of minutes. Once he got up to speed, he reached over with his right arm pulled out the knife, and tossed it off onto the shoulder. His left arm burned in pain.

“Scan that arm, and please tell me there is a first aid kit in the truck.”

“The blade missed all ligaments and tendons. And somehow no major veins or arteries were sliced either. You did suffer a deep cut into the muscle tissue. It will be several days before you regain full movement and strength in that arm,” Eve said, “There is a kit in the truck that you will be able to stable the wound together, though you will need to cut it open and treat it properly at the safe house.”

John flew down the freeway towards the general store. He’d hide the bike in a rented storage locker across the street from it. It didn’t seem like the police were tracking him yet. If his estimate was accurate, it would be unlikely for them to begin looking for a motorcyclist for another ten to fifteen minutes.

That was more than enough time to hide this bike and change into less conspicuous attire. In either case, that bike and storage locker were no longer ever going to be used. The attack that night would sideline him for a few days, but the mission was accomplished. John’s attack eliminated one enemy and a traitor. Unfortunately, a woman got caught up in the middle, but rarely were missions like this completed without issue, or blood spilled. With any luck, the collateral damage would end here, but if history was any indicator of the future, that was wishful thinking.