Beneath the Shrine of the Sun

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

The sky disappeared as the great maw of the North Portal swallowed the car and it's contents. As the vehicle advanced down the mountain's sparsely lit and slightly-curving gullet, an Air Force officer glanced briefly from the back seat at the rear view mirror, watching as the blueish archway of daylight disappeared behind. Without that frame of reference to anchor him to the outside world, it seemed as if the tunnel stretched on to oblivion in either direction.

Despite that notion, the officer remained stoic and stone-faced, much to the discomfort of the young man seated beside him. Or perhaps it was the pair of gleaming eagles of polished silver that settled upon his epaulettes like crows upon the shoulders of Odin. Frankly, the Colonel didn't care one way or the other. He merely regarded his apparent intimidation as a blessing: it made it far easier to insist on the Lieutenant's silence.

"NORAD and Space Command moved the bulk of their operations to Vandenberg and Peterson three years ago," the young Lieutenant felt compelled to explain spontaneously, as if the urge to speak had been building up like water behind the dam of his clamped-shut jaw. "NORAD still had minor operations going on here until a few months ago, when the base was transferred to General Vasher's command."

Hunter's eyes didn't deviate from the road ahead. "This was all explained very thoroughly in the file you gave me on the plane, Lieutenant. You watched me read it."

The young officer shrank into his seat a little. "Yes, sir. Of course."

Silence fell again, and Colonel Hunter allowed his attention to fully return to observation. While he sat in apparent bored silence, he had in fact been carefully watching everything that transpired. Based on the speed currently being reported by the car's dashboard, he had estimated the distance between the lighting units strung overhead, and was using that to keep a running count of the distance they travelled. Granted, one couldn't entirely trust that the lights were equally spaced, but the Lieutenant's file had also mentioned that this gargantuan underground bunker had been constructed by the Navy: when a lack of attention to detail meant the difference between floating or sinking, Hunter felt he could trust the Navy to be fairly accurate in it's measurements.

The Lieutenant's silence was unfortunately short-lived. "Did you know that they filmed the TV show -"

Hunter interrupted before the Lieutenant could finish. "I'm afraid I don't watch television, Lieutenant," he explained; though he did have to give the young boy credit for at least trying to provide trivia that definately wasn't included in the official report. "I prefer to spend my time filling my mind with facts, not fiction."

A set of chain link gates passed over the car, and part of the tunnel gave way to an artificial slab of concrete and steel. The driver turned towards an area marked on the concrete roadway in familiar white and yellow paint that, were it not for the enormous mountain hanging over their heads, could have easily been mistaken for any other parking bay anywhere else in the world.

To the Colonel's right, the Lieutenant reached for the handle that would open his door. Hunter's eyes were looking beyond him however; a hand snagged the Lieutenant's arm. "I don't think that will be necessary," he explained, gesturing towards a smartly dressed figure waiting patiently beside the first of the base's twenty-five ton blast doors. "It would seem that someone else has come to escort me."

Swinging open his own door and stepping out into the tunnel, Hunter allowed himself a moment to smooth down the front of his uniform and compose himself. He took in his surroundings - the rough stone of the tunnel; the damp and chill of the sub-terranian air; the sheer formidable sight of the base's outer defenses. The Lieutenant's report had told him that the the nearly mile-long tunnel was curved in order to channel the explosive force of a nuclear detonation into a glancing blow against the blast doors; and that the base itself could - in theory - survive up to a thirty megaton blast within a nautical mile. Hunter sincerely hoped that he wouldn't be inside should those structural capabilities be genuinely tested.

He closed the car door with a clunk, and paced with clicking steps that echoed strangely in the corridor towards the officer waiting for him. He came to a casual yet smart halt before her, hands clasping comfortably behind his back. "Major Mackenzie Keller, I presume," he said confidently, with a nod of greeting; a statement, not a question. A slight hint of a knowing smile formed on his features. "You'll have to excuse me if I don't offer to shake your hand."

[Major Mackenzie Keller]

"Colonel Hunter."

Major Keller raised her hand to her beret in salute, showing quite plainly that it was covered in a black cotton glove, the only anomaly in her standard Army drab service uniform. Officers were known to carry their uniforms with pride, with distinction, even with grace. With Kenzie there was the distinct and unsettling impression that the uniform was carrying her.

"Welcome to Vanguard One. General Vasher is awaiting your arrival."

Kenzie turned to usher the colonel past the massive blast door and the concrete buffer chamber that led to another door just like the first. A product of the nuclear scare, the Cheyenne Mountain Operations Center seemed an ideal center of defense for the new genetic age, but Vanguard was still in the process of retrofitting its facilities against attacks even more penetrating than atomic bombs.

"I can respect your reservations, sir, but you should know that my mutation only functions through direct physical contact, skin on skin. Your memories are quite safe from me, sir."

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

"Of that I'm well aware, Major," he conceeded, with a slight nod of his head. "But why let minor details like fact and accuracy get in the way of a good opening line?"

He kept pace beside Kenzie with ease, his mind split in multiple directions; part of it recalling the classified plans of Cheyenne Mountain that he'd reviewed while en route, and comparing them to his surroundings to try and maintain his bearings and position inside the mountain; another part running through what he'd memorised from her personnel records. He let her lead him from the heavily fortified entryway into the main complex itself: a vast cavern filled with an interlocking maze of blast-resistant, quake-resistant structures.

Their pace slowed as they reached a set of clearly-new security doors, guarded on either side by men in simple grey Vanguard uniforms. He shot a brief glance in the Major's direction. "I realise it's somewhat belated," he said, voice dropping all pretence of faux confidence and formality, "But you have my condolances regarding your late fiancé."

[Major Mackenzie Keller]

It was a cruel reality that Kenzie had to second-guess such sentiments. There was enough of a taboo attached to being engaged to a fellow soldier, but that had more or less disappeared when Sam was killed in the line of duty. The real questions had begun when she was transferred to the command of the man who would have been her father-in-law. Her sterling service record be damned, as far as Military Intelligence was concerned, her Vanguard appointment was the work of nepotism, nothing more, as if being a woman and a mutant weren't already reason enough to dismiss her.

But Hunter's sympathies appeared genuine, even if they were over three years late. "Thank you, sir," she said, still guarded. There was little else you could say without presuming on a professional relationship.

They passed by a column of troopers in gray uniforms and body armor marching in quick time with their M4X1 carbines modified for close quarters. Each one had a thin, flexible band of carbon fiber composite on their belts where cops would have carried their handcuffs.

"I hope you found the files you received informative," Kenzie said. "Do you have any questions I can address before we meet with the General?"

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

Any questions?

In honesty, Hunter didn't know where to begin. The file he had been provided with had been informative yes, but in the same way that the text on the back of a book informed you about the content within. There was far more to the story of Vanguard than a few pages and report extracts could reveal: he was sure of it. What the report had implied, and what he had inferred from references and allusions in certain documents left him feeling wary, and uncomfortable.

Hunter was a soldier, and had been all his life. He had been a pilot, and then served in Special Forces. He was used to going into situations where there was an element of mystery; an element of unknown. But it always made him nervous when he had the distinct impression that his superiors were witholding vital information from him. And when it came to Vanguard, he had the distinct impression that what was being withheld far outweighed anything that would ever be revealed.

"Just one question," he answered eventually. "The report you provided already has certainly managed to wet my appetite, but there is clearly a lot more to Vanguard than what I already know -" He offered a faint smile. "- and I'm afraid that I'm the sort of officer who likes to know as much as is humanly possible. If I need access to any restricted files in the future, will I be dealing with you, Major, or do I have another designated point of contact?"

[Major Mackenzie Keller]

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid the report is somewhat selective," Kenzie replied. "Once you've been installed in your position with all the proper credentials, you will have general access to all classified files at this location. If you need any restricted files outside the purview of Central Operations, I will be your primary contact."

They stepped through the threshold from one structure to another, passing by a set of double doors that opened into a spacious command center full of glowing monitors and, toward the far wall, a large table that appeared to hold a highly detailed scale model of Los Angeles - until the buildings changed to a scattering of different colors, like a territorial map, which, of course, was what it was, rendered in dynamic holographic clarity.

"I assure you it is not the General's intention to keep you in the dark," Kenzie was continuing. "Given the nature of our operations we find it necessary to keep some files physically confined to Vanguard locations. It's the sort of precaution that arises when some of your enemies can read minds."

At last they arrived at a suite of offices. The desk in the lobby was occupied by a junior officer who was typing at a blistering pace but stopped to acknowledge the two senior officers. Kenzie led Hunter to the door directly behind the desk and knocked. "Sir. Colonel Hunter has arrived."

"Very good. Bring him in, Major."

[General Gideon Vasher]

It was often said that a man's office could tell you a great deal about the man. If that was the case, then General Vasher's office said he was a man of secrets. There were no plaques, no pictures, no trophies, no vanity items, in fact no personal effects of any kind. In one corner was a black filing cabinet, and in the other was a coat rack where a long trenchcoat hung from the top peg. On the desk was an open attaché case and a laptop computer joined to the network by LAN cable. One got the impression the general could sweep his work into his briefcase and be out of the room with ten seconds' notice and leave no evidence that he was ever there.

But he was there now, a tall man with a broad soldier's frame, glasses, a gray mustache, and, what was odd for an officer of any rank, a mane of long, silver hair tied back into a queue. His uniform was unfamiliar, a variant of the gray fatigues the troopers outside had worn, but fitted with the ornaments of an Army brigadier general. Vasher rose from his task chair and extended his hand toward the colonel.

"Colonel Hunter," he said in a broad Texas growl. "It's good to finally see you face-to-face."

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

Neural impulses had already been fired down to Hunter's hand to prepare it for a salute; fortunately, his brain was able to issue new orders in time to convert it into a handshake before anyone could notice otherwise.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," he said, gripping the General's hand firmly. The database of polite greetings in his mind suggested I've heard a lot about you as a candidate for his next statement, but the part of his brain that didn't live in the land of forced pleasantries realised that Gideon Vasher was far too enigmatic for that to sound even remotely plausible. While Hunter had already tried, calling in favours from his contacts across the military, even the rumour mills had come up largely empty with information about the enigmatic General.

From what Hunter had heard, he had to admit to a slight hint of disappointment: based on the way popular culture usually depicted individuals of his role and ilk, part of him had been expecting an all-black uniform and eyepatch.

"I'm sure you're a very busy man, General -" It was another one of the generic pleasantries from the archives of Jim's mind, but for once it actually seemed like a completely honest thing to say. "The sooner we can get me up to speed, the sooner I can get out of your -" His hesitation was almost imperceptable, as he considered the General's non-regulation style. "- hair."

[General Gideon Vasher]

"Of course, Colonel," Vasher replied. "Your credentials should give you access to our entire database. I understand Major Keller has an executive summary waiting for you. But there were a few things I wanted to cover in person. First of all, the matter of mutagen. I trust the report you received covered the concept if not the details?"

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

'If not the details' seemed to have been the mentality of the day when the report had been compiled; but he kept that thought firmly locked away, to avoid it springboarding off his tongue.

He replied instead with a nod, inclining his head slowly. "Some sort of serum that provides our men and women with -" He fought hard to avoid using as frivilous a term as 'superpowers'. "- physical enhancements, to give them an edge in combat should they encounter resistance from empowered mutants." His mind had considered the possibilities of how such an effect could be achieved. Steroids? Genetic manipulation? Some chemical to alter his mind? For once, part of him was glad that he didn't know.

Questions as to how - if at all - Vanguard had secured FDA approval for such a proceedure manifested in his mind, but that was another quip he kept firmly under wraps. "If I may infer, sir -" He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, musing the situation thoroughly. "- you want to know how I feel about the proceedure being used; either on my men, or myself. No?"

[General Gideon Vasher]

Vasher's mind couldn't help but drift to Jack Wednesday, with a genome as pliable as gold and as strong as steel, the man whose body had served as the proving ground for over a dozen strains of mutagen, some of which had since been deemed categorically lethal. It was a shame what had happened to him. Good officer.

"About fifty percent of our ground forces have received at least one course of mutagen treatments," Vasher replied. "All of them were screened for compatibility beforehand, and all of them gave informed consent. You will have the opportunity to request the treatment if you so choose."

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

The opportunity to request. That was an interesting way of phrasing it. The at least one was an interesting turn of phrase, as well. For a moment, Hunter spared a thought for he possible implications of that. Just how many of that fifty percent had subjected themselves to multiple treatments? What sort of risks had they placed themselves under - and what sort of rewards has those risks yielded?

The sensible thing would have been to study the evidence; to make a careful, calculated decision. Were it a question of providing advice, or approving such a decision being made by someone under his command, it would probably have earned that due consideration. But Hunter was a pilot at his core; and worse, his father had been a test pilot. The notion drew a faint hint of a smile to his lips. Stupid risks were in his blood.

"I may be flying a desk now for the most part," he said simply, "But when the unexpected happens - and it always does, in my experience - I want to be as ready for it as I possibly can be." He offered the General a confident nod. "Consider this my formal request for screening, sir."

[General Gideon Vasher]

"Very well. I'll pass you request on to Dr. Rainer. The infirmary here is already equipped for the procedure."

Vasher reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small, flat device the size and shape of a smart phone. He set it down next to his computer, and the two interfaced immediately.

"As for the unexpected... consider this your initiation."

The general tapped a few keys on his computer, and the smartphone device hummed to life and projected a shimmering schematic on the air above it - a diagram of a human-shaped exoskeleton surrounded by specs and labels and surmounted by the heading WEAPON ZERO.

"This information is on a strictly need-to-know basis, but as CO of Operations you certainly need to know. Mutagen is our attempt to keep up with mutants using gene replacement therapy. With Weapon Zero, we took another route. A cybernetic exoskeleton equipped and optimized for solo covert operations. The conversion procedure is invasive and irreversible, so we used a recently deceased body instead of a living one. Zero is controlled entirely by our most advanced tactical artificial intelligence. He's been an invaluable field agent for the past three years, but four weeks ago, he dropped off our network while on sortie in Los Angeles. We haven't been able to reestablish contact with him since."

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

Cybernetics. Artificial intelligence. A recently deceased body. It all sounded like the plot of some science fiction story, and for a fleeting moment Hunter wished that the Lieutenant whom he'd arrived with was there, to supply him with the appropriate cult references. But he wasn't; and that left Hunter to formulate some sort of reaction and response all on his own.

He allowed himself a brief pause to consider what his opinion should be. Looking purely at face value, he should no doubt be outraged by the afront to nature of which he was being informed, or the complete lack of respect for one of America's fallen heroes. He should perhaps be alarmed that Vanguard had been permitted to construct such a living weapon; a reaction no doubt intensified by the fact that they had somehow managed to loose control. He should have felt a great many things; but he didn't. All that gripped his mind was grim fascination, and one question:

"Why?"

Instantly he offered a silent apology, and expanded upon his vague query. "I may not be an expert on all of this super-advanced technology, but in my experience a computer seldom begins to act in an irrational or unexpected way without some significant cause. Are we operating under the assumption that he was captured, or did something occur that leads you to suspect he may have gone voluntarily -" He searched for an appropriately technical term, but found none. "- AWOL?"

[General Gideon Vasher]

"We had assumed that Zero had been either captured or destroyed," Vasher replied. "It would take something pretty catastrophic to prevent his recovery beacons from activating. But recently we got word from one of our field agents that Zero is still operating in Los Angeles. Targeting mutant civilians for nonlethal capture."

The general swept his hand through the holographic image, which changed to a city map of Los Angeles with a dozen odd dots in red, each one with a name and date attached to it.

"Zero is equipped with reusable tranquilizer needles, a similar agent to the tranq rounds our troopers use. As far as we know, none of his victims have ever seen him coming. It appears his MO is catch-and-release, though whether he's doing something to them while they're out or whether he's leaving them in the street because he lacks orders for where to take them, we just don't know. There are two possibilities to consider. Either he has been captured and reprogrammed by an unknown entity, or something has overruled his recovery protocols and he is now operating independently. Either way, he represents a clear threat to our interests and a massive security risk. We need him back."

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

Hunter's eyes swept objectively across the holographic display, his mind assessing each point of crimson light, trying to unravel them in search of some pattern or hidden meaning. Of course, Vanguard had no doubt already run the hotspots through every advanced computer algorithm known to man; but for someone used to operating in the field where decisions needed to be made before the labcoats could cook up their theories, old habits died hard.

"I would imagine that his lack of lethal force is a positive sign," Hunter said aloud, arms folding across his chest and his brow tugging into a thoughtful frown. His mind chewed over the possibilities, trying to turn this Weapon Zero through analogy into a plane: something with which he had far more experience. Modern planes could barely even stay in the sky without an array of sophisticated computers, but even back in Hunter's day - and before - they'd started to integrate automated systems, remote controlled computers; hell, the entire space industry had been built on doing as much as possible without being there.

Okay then, Hunter mused. You're a satellite disguised as a ninja. How do we turn you off?

He considered the possibilities, ruling out those that were too obvious for Vanguard not to have tried them already. If there was some sort of recall command, or a stay still and tell us where you are subroutine, Vanguard would surely have already activated it. So either it didn't exist, or it hadn't worked. But even if they couldn't fully control their satellite by remote, that didn't necessarily rule out a few minor course corrections.

"I'm no computer expert," he admitted, "But it seems to me that if he's continuing to employ the same tactics he was programmed with, at least that chunk of his coding must still be intact. Maybe more of it is; does that give us any extra options? Is there a command we can issue to shut him down, or at least disable his weapons? Does he have some core directive that prevents him from using lethal force, or designating a Vanguard officer as a target? Can we -" He offered a vague shrug, recalling a science fiction movie he'd been forced to sit through once. "- upload some sort of virus to temporarily scramble his systems?"

He shrugged again; just with his face this time. "No matter how small and insignificant it may seem, any edge we can get is a step in the right direction."

[General Gideon Vasher]

Vasher nodded, pleased that his new CO of Operations was thinking along the right lines. "Even if he has been co-opted, his base code is inviolable. Without it, he couldn't function at all. That gives us an in - we can order him to abort all directives, transmit his location, even shut down completely to await extraction. Unfortunately, if he's shut off his microwave receiver, it doesn't matter what we broadcast. We need to get close to him. Fire the commands on a line of sight into his optical lens. If that doesn't work, we have one more ace in the hole."

The general adjusted his glasses and turned his eyes toward Major Keller.

[Major Mackenzie Keller]

Kenzie hesitated uncharacteristically, shifting her gaze between the two men. "Ah. Yes, sir. Zero's operating mainframe is a marriage of software and wetware. In other words, its artificial intelligence runs primarily on human brain tissue. Because of that biological component, I can still interface with it. With him."

She lost herself for a moment in the field of red dots over the streets of Los Angeles. "Naturally, having seen Zero's capabilities first-hand, I would prefer that it be subdued before I go diving into its memory banks."

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

Hunter couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this situation then he had thus far been told. He couldn't help but notice the clash of tenses, either. Vasher has referred to Weapon Zero as a he - a man; a person; a soldier. Keller on the other hand seemed to struggle doing so. Perhaps her first-hand experience with Zero was to blame: Hunter certainly wouldn't blame her if she found it easier to percieve Zero as a weapon, not a person, given what he was capable of doing.

But the situation was complicated enough already without indulging in his personal sense of paranoia; he bundled it up, and pushed it into the back corners of his mind.

"Don't worry Major," he assured. "Even if I have to tackle it and pin it to the ground myself, I won't let you anywhere near Weapon Zero unless I'm completely sure you'll be safe."

He let the sentiment hang in the air for only a fraction of a moment before he turned his attention back to the General, his mind returning to their alternative option. "This line-of-sight, optical lens business. I'm guessing that's techno talk for a laser - what is your delivery system?"

[General Gideon Vasher]

"The trick's in the coding, not the delivery," Vasher replied. "The boys down in the development lab are putting together a couple handheld laser transmitters to do the job. A split-second optical burst will do the trick. You and whichever troops you choose will have ample opportunity to train with the devices before we go live. But before then we have to find him."

He gestured again toward the hovering map. "As I said, we've got an agent feeding us leads. We need to investigate what we can without risking her cover. Zero is not entirely autonomous. He requires a home base to recharge his power cells, clean his servos, and manage any damage his suit may have taken. We find where he's going to ground, we find him. Consider this your first official assignment as CO of Operations."

[Major Mackenzie Keller]

Anticipating Hunter's next questions, Kenzie interjected, "Colonel, as you will no doubt be familiarizing yourself with our database, I would be happy to forward you a copy of the dossier I prepared for General Vasher. It includes prioritized reports on Zero's capabilities and mission history as well as all our intelligence to date on the weapon's activities since its disappearance. You may also be interested to know that our field agent is a mutant whom I have worked with in the past, and I remain her primary contact with Vanguard. I can put you in contact with her if you wish."

[Colonel M. James Hunter]

Our field agent is a mutant.

Hunter had of course read in Keller's high-level summary of Vanguard that a number of servicemen and women with genetic mutations had been employed by the agency to make use of their skills. Keller was a prime example: her ability to influence memories made her a useful asset when it came to gathering intelligence and maintaining the confidentiality of Vanguard's operations. It had been implied that the other mutants too had skills that were of particular benefit. Idly, Hunter wondered what capabilities this field agent might have.

"That would be greatly appreciated, Major. The sooner the better: regardless of why Weapon Zero has gone AWOL, we need to contain this situation before anyone becomes seriously hurt -" His gaze lingered on the General for a moment, his inner cynic briefly rearing it's head. "- and before the public is able to connect these attacks against mutants to Vanguard. Our reputation is precarious enough already."

[General Gideon Vasher]

"On that, we're agreed," Vasher rumbled, and he extinguished the projector with a wave of his hand. "I shouldn't keep you any longer, Colonel. Lieutenant O'Hara and Major Keller can help orient you to the resources at your disposal. It's a privilege to have you on board."