The Hipno Chronicles:
Ghosts of Liandris
Chapter 6:
Graduation Day
0420 HOURS, FEBRUARY 19, 2551 (IMPERIAL CALENDAR) \
ABOARD LNC MERCIFUL, INTERSTELLAR SPACE,
SECTOR K-009
(FIVE YEARS AFTER HIPNO-III BETA COMPANY OPERATION
TORPEDO AT REGULUS BETA)
Kikoji walked the empty corridors of the LNC Merciful and entered the atrium. Blazing lights overhead mimicked a realistic sun. Air recirculators made the leaves of the small grove of white oaks rustle. He smelled lavender, a scent he hadn't experienced since he was a child.
The most extravagent feature of the Merciful, however, was the ten-meter curving window in the atrium--something utterly unheard of on any other ship in any of the LEGION's fleets.
But then the Merciful was unlike any other ship in the fleet.
Naval officers described her as "the ugliest thing to ever float in zero gee." The ship had been built before there had been major rebel activity in the colonies. A private medical corporation had purchased two scrapped repair stations--each a square kilometer plate of scaffolding, cranes, and cargo trams. These two plates had been connected to make an off-centered "sandwich," and within, a state-of-the-art hospital and research facility had been constructed.
In 2495, the LNC had commandered the vessel, added engines, minimal defense systems, six fission reactors, and a Stien-Fujita translight system, and transformed the Merciful into the largest mobile battlefield hospital in history.
While most of the Naval officers agreed that she was unsightly, every enlisted Marine Kikoji had ever spoken with declared her the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen.
The Merciful had taken on mythical proportions with the men and women who had to fight and die on the front lines. She had been damaged, but had survived, eighteen major Naval battles with rebellion forces and four encounters with Furia's hordes. The ship's staff of Basitin and the technology they had at their disposal had a reputation of saving lives, in many cases literally bringing the dead back to life.
Today the ship had been docked in interstellar space--essentially the middle of nowhere--by order of Vice Admiral Parangosky. And while the thousands of critically ill patients could not be evacuated, the eight decks surrounding Docking Cluster Bravo had been cleared of all personnel while ONI moved in their equipment and staff. The HIPNO-III program had to remain under a cloak of absolute secrecy.
Kikoji wished the Merciful lived up to her reputation, because today the lives of his Hipno potentials were at stake.
His candidates had had to endure so much in the last year. To accelerate the program's timetable, puberty had been artificially induced. Body-growth hormone as well as cartilage, muscle, and bone supplements had been introduced into their diet, and the children had metamorphosed into near-adult stature within nine months.
They had become clumsy in their new, larger bodies, and had struggled to relearn how to run, shoot, jump, and fight. And today, they'd face their most dangerous test. They would either become irrepairably disfigured and horribly crippled, die, or be transformed into Hipnos.
No, that wasn't right. While these kids didn't have the heightened speed of strength of a Hipno, they already had the commitment, drive, and spirit. They already were Hipnos.
Kikoji heard boots clicking down the corridor, then muffled steps crossing the atrium lawn.
"General, sir?"
A young crimson coast fox and his nearly identical, albiet smaller and female, companion approached with the long, loping gaits of people who had spent much time in microgravity. They wore standard Naval uniforms bearing the stripes of a petty officer second class. Both had neat, trimmed hair and dark eyes.
Kikoji had to pull a few strings to keep the Beta Company survivors of Regulus Beta with him. Colonel Ackerson had wanted Bludshot for his own private operations. And the ever-silent Ruby had narrowly avoided an unfit-for-duty classification and permanent reassignment to ONI psych branch for 'evaluation.'
He'd had to appeal to Vice Admiral Parangosky, claiming he needed Hipnos to train Hipnos.
Over Ackerson's protests, she had agreed.
The result: Bludshot and Ruby had become Kikoji's right and left hands over these last years, and Gamma Company were the finest Hipnos ever.
Bludshot and Ruby spent so much of their time in their SPI armor, it took Kikoji a moment to recognize his attaches. Their armor, along with the rest of Gamma Company's SPI suits, were being refitted with new photoreactive coatings to boost their camouflaging properties. There were other experimental refits--gel ballistic layers, upgraded software suites, and other functions--that would hopefully be working within a year's time.
Bludshot and Ruby snapped off simultaneous salutes. Kikoji returned them. "Report."
"The candidates are ready to board, sir." Bludshot said.
Kikoji got up and the three of them walked back down the corridor and into Docking Cluster Bravo. It was the size of a small canyon with the capacity to cycle a fleet of dropships simultaneously through its massive air-lock system. There was ample space for triage and trams that could whisk an entire company of wounded soldiers to emergency surgical faculties.
Air locks screamed and thre was a sudden gust of fresh air. Dozens of bay doors parted and Herons rolled into the bay on steam-powered beds.
The Herons' rear ramps lowered and the Hipno candidates filed out in orderly rows.
Kikoji had briefed them about the procedures. They'd be sedated and injected with chemical cocktails and surgically altered to give them the strength of three normal soldiers, decrease their neural reaction time, and enhance their durability.
It was the final step in their transformation to Hipnos.
It was graduation day.
He'd briefed them on the risks, too. He had shown them the archived videos of the results of the bioaugmentation phase of the HIPNO-II program, how more than half of those candidates had 'washed out'--either dying from the procedure or becoming so badly deformed they couldn't stand.
This would not happen to the HIPNO-IIIs with the new medical protocols, but Kikoji had wanted one final test.
Not one of the 330 candidates had opted out of the program.
Kikoji had had to petition Colonel Ackerson for thirty extra slots for this final phase. He simply didn't have it in him to randomly cut thirty--when evey last one of them was willing and ready to fight. Ackerson had gladly granted his request.
Kikoji stood and saluted as the line of candidates passed him.
They marched by, returning his salute, heads held high, and chests out. On average only twelve years old, they looked closer to fifteen with the sculpted musculature of human Olympic athletes; many had hard-won scars; and all had an ineffable, confident air about them.
They were warriors. Kikoji had never felt so proud.
The last candidate lingered, then halted before him. It was Adrian, serial number G099, leader of Team Saber. He was one of the fiercest, smartest, and best leaders in the class. His brown hair was slightly over regulation length, but Kikoji was inclined to let it slide, today of all days.
Adrian snapped off a precise salute. "Sir, Hipno candidate G099 requesting permission to speak, sir."
"Granted," Kikoji said, and finished his protracted salute.
"Sir, I..." Adrian's voice cracked.
Many of the males had problems with their vocal cords, still recovering from the rapidly induced puberty.
"I just wanted to let you know," he continued, "what an honor it's been to train under you, Colonel Kuran, and Petty Officers Bludshot and Ruby. If I don't make it today, I wanted you to know that I wouldn't have done anything differently, sir."
"The honor has been mine," Kikoji said. He held out his hand.
Adrian stared at it a moment, then he grasped it, and they shook.
"I'll see you on the other side," Kikoji said.
Adrian nodded and left, catching up to the rest of the candidates.
Bludshot and Ruby both nodded their approvals.
"They're ready," Kikoji whispered. He looked away so he wouldn't have to meet their gazes. "I hope we are. We're taking one hell of a risk."
LATER...
Kikoji, Blud, and Ruby stopped at a staff conference room, now an improvised ONI command and control center. Medical technicians in blue lab coats watched 330 video monitors and biosign sets. Bludshot spoke to one of the techs while Kikoji's gaze flicked from monitor to monitor.
He then went down to the open surgical arena. It had four hundred sections--each partitioned by semiopaque plastic curtaining, and each fitting with a sterile-field generator that blazed with its characteristic orange light overhead.
Kikoji entered one unit and found HIPNO-G122, Nadia, there.
The partitioned area was crammed full of machines. There were stands with bio monitors. Several intravenous and osmotic patches connected her to a chemo-therapeutic infuser, loaded with a collection of liquid-filled vials that would keep Nadia in a semisedated state while it delivered a cocktail of drugs over the next week. There was a crash cart and portable ventillator nearby, as well.
She struggled to rise and salute, but she fell back, her eyelids fluttering closed.
He went to Nadia's side and clasped her small hand until she settled into a deep sleep.
She reminded him of Kimi when she was this young: full of spunk, and never giving up. He missed Kimi. He had been dead to his fellow HIPNO-IIs for almost twenty years. He missed all of them.
The chemo-therapeutic infuser hissed, vials rotated into place, micromechanical pumps thumped, and bubbles percolated inside its colored liquids.
It was starting. Kikoji remembered when he went through the augmentation. The fevers, the pain--it felt as if his bones were breaking, like someone had poured napalm into his veins.
Nadia shifted. The bio monitors showed a spike in her blood pressure and temperature. Tiny blisters appeared on her arms and she scratched at them. They filled with blood and then quickly smoothed into scabs.
Kikoji patted Nadia's hand one last time and then went to the infuser and lifted the side panel. Inside were dozens of solution vials. He squinted, reading off their serial numbers.
He spotted "8942-LQ99" inside the infuser. That was the carbide ceramic ossification catalyst to make skeletons virtually unbreakable.
There was "88005-MX77," the fibrofoid muscular protein complex that boosted muscle density.
"88947--OP24" was the number for retina-inversion stabilizer, which boosted color and night-vision.
"87556-UD61" was the improved colloidal neural disunification solution to decrease reaction times.
There were many others: shock reducers, analgesics, anti-inflammatories, anticoagulants, and pH buffers.
But Kikoji was looking for three vials in particular, ones with different serial numbers--009927-DG, 009127-PX, and 009762-OO--that didn't match any standard medical logistics code.
They were there, bubbling as their contents were drained and mixed with picoliter precision.
He heard footsteps approaching.
Kikoji lowered the panel of the infuser and stepped back to Nadia's side.
There was rustling of plastic curtains and a medical tech in a blue lab coat entered.
"Is there anything you need help with, sir?" the medtech asked. "Anything I can get you?"
"Everything is fine," Kikoji lied. He brushed past the man. "I was just leaving."