CHAPTER 22: MARK

Bishop International Airport, Flint, Michigan, United States of America, Earth

What the hell had I gotten myself into? That single thought reverberated through Mark's mind since he had walked out on the horrific scene he was indirectly responsible for at his close friend's house. The Legion had, for reasons unknown, chosen him to be their personal puppet, and now there was no telling when they might choose to pop in for a chat or an order. Previously, they had only used digital means to communicate through virtual reality environments, but to his and his friends' horror, they had graduated to using real, live children. Mark looked around him as he sat at the congested hopper terminal, observing the throngs of families navigating the busy airport. "Hopper flight two seven Romeo now boarding at gate seven," announced a voice over the loudspeaker, breaking Mark's gaze and pulling him back to the present.

The quick hopper ride to New York only took ten minutes, and was largely uneventful. However, Mark's nerves were on edge the entire time, his eyes darting from one child to another, as if expecting another unexpected visit from his benefactors. At least that was what he told himself, but deep down inside, he knew the truth. He was far more afraid of who he was going to see than of the Legion popping in on him for another unnerving chat. Despite being on forced leave from Federation Naval Intelligence, he had a mission—one that for reasons he could not fathom, he could not refuse. A message of extreme importance needed to be delivered to his son, a task that only he could undertake. He had no idea why the Legion couldn't simply deliver the message directly to John, or why it had to be John, or even why his gut instinct was urging him to break a dozen laws to accomplish it. All Mark knew was that he had to try everything in his power to prevent the destruction of Earth.

With the general public now fully aware of the invasion, planet-wide panic was running rampant. No governments of Earth could effectively manage the chaos that ensued; even the global media was powerless to quell the rioting, looting, and general mayhem that erupted in various parts of the globe. People were desperate to escape the planet and flee to Alpha Centauri, but no one grasped why they couldn't. Several intrasystem hoppers had attempted to escape, but all were destroyed by alliance forces blockading the outer border of the damping field. In response, the Federation declared space superiority. The law was akin to martial law, but it granted authority in the vast emptiness of space rather than on planet surfaces or within stations scattered throughout the system. No civilian spacecraft was authorized to enter orbit from Earth or Mars, and every civilian craft beyond the asteroid belt was ordered to evacuate inward. This complicated matters for Mark, as his status no longer afforded him privileges to circumvent the system. He couldn’t turn to his friends; that would raise too many questions, and they had to remain planetside. He found himself trapped, with no reasonable method to reach orbit—except for one.

By some miracle, she was on Earth. According to the registry, Doctor Emily Henderson was currently overseeing the transfer of high-level medical staff from NY Mercy Orbital Platform to the main ground facility in New York City. His wife was his only option; she held the rank of two-star Admiral in the Federation Navy and, more importantly, served as Chief of Medicine at NY Mercy. She possessed the only ticket off the planet, but convincing her would not be an easy feat. He had left her twenty years ago to go undercover as an agent for Federation Naval Intelligence, and she thought he was dead. Even their son, John, believed he was gone, despite their brief meeting just a few months prior.

His heart raced as he watched people enter and leave the hospital, calculating every possible escape route as he ventured inside. His espionage-trained mind fed him tactical information with every step he took—strategies for slipping into the crowds, identifying who he might manipulate to get what he needed. He couldn’t shut off his training; his brain forced his conditioning to the forefront, pushing the nervous energy as far to the back as possible. With every step, his heart pounded harder; with every inch he moved deeper into the hospital, his anxiety grew. He scanned each room for any sign of her. After discovering an unlocked supply closet, he changed into full scrubs to blend in better with the staff. Two hours of searching yielded nothing. Not a trace of her. Frustration began to creep in over the apprehension; yet, his training kicked in. He maneuvered around more doors until he stumbled into a dimly lit room where a doctor was snoring, taking a much-needed break after working a grueling fourteen straight hours.

Mark removed a device from his pocket, one he should no longer possess. One of the perks of working in intelligence for an extended period was profit sharing. He activated the device and waved it over the snoring doctor, scanning her biometrics before swiping it over her ID badge, duplicating its signature and copying any radio frequency it contained. When the quiet completion tone chirped, Mark slipped out of the room as silently as he had entered.

Mark soon realized he now had unchecked access to the entire hospital, as his newly acquired ID badge and biometric credentials belonged to Doctor Hadley Barret, Chief of Cardiology. She would never know her badge had been replicated unless security was paying particularly close attention. Unfortunately, Mark lacked the overwatch needed to alter footage or change any access records; he had to blend in better. He needed a white doctor's coat to complete his disguise. Finding one wasn’t hard; he stumbled into a locker room. However, for Mark, the coat he found was inscribed with Dr. Samantha Mindlehurst, Internal Medicine, just above the left pocket. Last time he checked in the mirror, he bore no resemblance to a Samantha, and he would have to ensure the name was obscured.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

More rooms and corridors awaited him. ICU, ER, Maternity Ward—he explored every section of the sprawling hospital. He couldn't ask anyone for help; he didn’t want to alert anyone that someone was searching for her. She was the Chief of Medicine, and she had to be here somewhere. The latest intelligence brief indicated she was in the building, but where could she possibly be? Three hours of searching passed, and his training was beginning to fail him; he started to doubt whether he knew her as well as he had thought. All those hours spent reminiscing in VR about the past had not accounted for how much she could have changed over two decades. He found himself wandering aimlessly through the corridors, pondering his next section to search.

Eventually, he came across a door that read Doctor Amesh Zeghabor, Orthopedic. An idea struck him then: her office. Even if she was not there, perhaps he could find a schedule or some other clue that could lead him to her outside the hospital.

Unfortunately, he discovered that her main office was not located in this hospital but instead in NY Mercy's orbital facility. Yet, the directory offered a glimmer of hope. Listed on the 15th floor was an office labeled "Executive Temporary Offices." That was where he would find her or at least gain some insight into her whereabouts. He took the elevator agonizingly slowly to the 15th floor, as the ride seemed to stop at every other level, either bringing on new passengers or allowing others to depart. When the door finally opened to the 15th floor, Mark was taken aback by the opulence that greeted him. Expensive paintings adorned the walls, tables and centerpieces showcased exquisite craftsmanship, and statues added an air of sophistication; the amount of federal credits spent on just the hallway alone far surpassed anything he had ever earned in his lifetime serving his nation. Healthcare was one of the highest priority government services in the Federation and boasted the second largest federal budget. Every citizen of the Federation had universal healthcare, every medical need met at zero cost to them; the hospitals and doctors were well stocked and compensated to ensure the highest quality of care possible. The rooms and hallways on this floor of the hospital clearly demonstrated that even the executives of healthcare received top-tier treatment.

After trying several rooms, he finally found one that was in use. Slowly entering, he began to observe the layout. This was her office, without a doubt. The desk was positioned at a slight angle, allowing for a full view of the room and the breathtaking scenery outside the window. Dolphin miniature statues were playfully scattered across the furniture, and even the brown leather couch perfectly matched her taste. However, the item that surprised him the most was the row of family photos that lined the wall directly in front of her desk. Portraits of her and John throughout their lives adorned the walls: her promotion to Admiral, the christening of the WarpStar, even John's captain ceremony. Amidst the recent memories were also relics of ancient history. Full family portraits of Emily, John, and Mark dominated the wall, including pictures of Emily and Mark before John had even been born.

Tears slowly crept down his cheeks as he stared at this poignant memorial of his past life. The emotions he had fought against for so long overwhelmed him, and he lost all self-control, fully embracing the moment. He had vowed never to let his emotions take over, never to let his guard down, and throughout his entire career, he had kept that promise. But now, in this moment, he was completely lost in the mesmerizing effect of the wall, and he completely missed the sound of the door opening. It was only the sound of the door slamming shut that snapped him back to reality, but it was her scream that startled him for the first time in decades.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir! You frightened me!" Emily exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and confusion as she tried to regain her composure. "I thought I told the staff not to cle..." She paused, her eyes locking onto his face for the first time. Mark stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from hers. Seeing her again after what felt like a lifetime was overwhelming. "I'm sorry, you just look a lot like..." she hesitated, lowering her voice as confusion flooded her mind. "My late husband..." She paused again, wanting to say more but struggling to maintain her composure. Her heart was telling her that this man not only resembled Mark; he was him. But her mind revolted, reminding her that it was impossible. He was dead, killed in action while defending the Federation against a Republic attack on Titan. They had found his body, torn to shreds, with all the evidence laid bare. DNA, dental records, bone marrow, fingerprint patterns—every form of biological forensic data had been meticulously documented, and as a rising star in the Naval Medical Division, she had examined the data firsthand. He was dead; her mind repeated the words, mantra-like. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as she tried, but failed, to form coherent words.

Mark slowly reached out to touch her hair, his hand gently cradling her cheek. "Hello, Sweetie!" The two words that no other human would have known to say to her, the two words that were their couple’s coined phrase, confirmed for her that it was indeed him. She melted into his embrace, sobbing in pure joy.

"Oh, Mark! Where have you been?" she cried out, her voice breaking with emotion. "Mark, where have you been?" she repeated, but this time, a flicker of anger crept into her tone. "Where the hell have you been for the last twenty-five years?" she demanded, pulling away to look him in the eye.

"Emma, it's a long story, one I don't have time to explain right this second. I need your help, John needs your help, and all of Humanity needs your help!"

She wanted to scream, to punch the man standing before her who claimed to be her dead husband until he was unconscious. But what she truly wanted was being overridden by something deep within her, a voice in the back of her mind whispering that she should trust him. John had never needed her more than he did at this moment; as a mother, she could not ignore that call. "What do we need to do?"