Chapter 41: My Revenge

Bradbury Canal Colony, December 19, 2141
My Revenge

Just as the train pulled into Bradbury Canal Station, Ray Clark called Anna one more time. “The cigar is lit,” was all he said.

“What did he say?” asked Elinore as Anna hung up the phone with an odd look on her face.

“He said the cigar is lit.”

Elinore broke into a sweet smile. “I suppose he means that interplanetary plague is no longer possible, and the area is sterilized,” said the sweet old woman.

“He did it,” whispered Anna. “Wow.” She marveled at the enormity of it all as they pulled into Bradbury Canal station. “And he did it dead on time,” she said softly. She got up and said, “It was nice to meet you Elinore, but I have a very important meeting at Marconi-Edison Bioelectric Research that I must attend.”

“I’m headed in that direction too, mind if I walk with you?”

“If you like.”

The escalator carried them up to ground level, and they walked down the main corridor to the six o’clock air lock. As they walked, Elinore explained how important it was to walk in the late stages of pregnancy. “And the light gravity of Mars makes it so easy to do, that’s why so many girls come here to have their babies.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Anna.

As they arrived at the six o’clock airlock, they saw through the windows on either side of the air lock that a Navy fighter had landed and it looked in rough shape. The grid fins were extended, one was missing, and the others looked bent. The entire ship had a swayback looking bend to it, and they were fighting to get the rear canopy open. Finally, the pilot hopped down and opened a panel, and pulled a lever. When he did that, the rear canopy popped off the fighter and landed a hundred meters away.

He caught the RIO as she jumped out and they unpacked their garment bags, then each of them carrying a garment bag and two MREs, they entered Bradbury Canal at the 6 o’clock airlock. The spaceman that stepped out of the airlock looked terrifying. His helmet was purple with white horns and covered with blood splatters and bloody handprints. His pressure suit was covered with dried blood and the face plate on the helmet was chrome stained with blood; it was impossible to see his face.

“Alan?” asked Christa.

The shorter of the two spacemen took off its purple helmet, revealing a Hispanic woman. “Hi, you must be Christa. I’m Anna Vasquez, I’m Alan’s RIO but he’s really pissed right now. I think he’s planning to kill more people. Where is Dr. Herbert Burgman? He owes me.”

“In fact, he owes all of us,” said Christa.

“His office is in the old C Quadrant Auditorium dear. Follow me,” said Elinore, and she led them around the perimeter ring. “Would you like to change somewhere?”

Alan’s helmet rotated side to side slightly, and he kept walking. The magnetic soles of his boots clumped loudly as they walked. Terrified Martians scattered as they saw the tall blood covered spaceman bearing down on them in the corridor. Finally, they reached the old auditorium. There was a sign on the door that read:

Marconi-Edison Bioelectrical Research Director Of Virology and Micro-Research Dr. Herbert Burgman IN A MEETING

The big metal pressure doors were replaced with genuine wood, flown all the way up from Earth. They entered the outer door and found themselves in a reception office. “I’m sorry but doctor...” there was a gasp as the receptionist saw Alan looming over her. A tall, blood covered spaceman with a chrome helmet faceplate glared down at her menacingly. She couldn’t see if he was lusting after her or was preparing to kill her.

“It might be time you take a break dear,” said Elinore.

“Yes, I’m overdue...” gasped the receptionist. Her eyes were frozen wide open, and she grabbed her purse and left quickly ... then returned, grabbed her personal wireless telephone, and left again.

There was another door with another sign that proclaimed a meeting was in progress, and Alan planted himself in front of the door, then tapped on the door with the hard plastic fingertip of his glove. A voice inside said, “We’re in a meeting.”

Alan’s helmet swiveled to Christa, who gesture to him to try it again. His helmet nodded yes, and he looked back at the door and tapped again. “Don’t you understand? Go away!”

Alan raised one foot, took careful aim at the door latch, then kicked the door off its hinges with a well-driven kick of his heavy metal boot. The door sailed into the office and crashed into an antique globe of the planet Mars that was standing on an antique table. Four men turned and gasped at the intrusion.

The opulent office was an incredible room. It was huge with wide picture windows. It was paneled with wood and covered with full bookshelves. There was a fish tank with tropical earth fish, and live underwater plants. There were plants galore around the office. It reminded Alan of Guam. There was a small Zen fountain trickling precious water into the fish tank. There was a series of tubes and cubes where hamsters played. There was even a billiard table.

Most important, there was Dr. Herbert Burgman behind his desk. He was looking gray and fatter than the last time Alan saw him. The three other men in the meeting remained in their chairs and turned toward Alan. They all looked agitated that Alan blew the door open and interrupted their meeting. “You can’t just barge in here,” cried one of them, but Anna slapped him on the side of his head while wearing her heavy environment glove.

“We just did, ya fucking moron. Pay attention.” She was angry. Someone here was responsible for Tasha’s death and Anna wanted blood.

Outside, on the Martian plane, the Berserkers were landing. Alan and Anna could see the deployed fighters shutting down their ships next to Berserker One through Burgman’s picture windows. Alan advanced on Burgman, shoving an old guy out of his chair and throwing the chair aside. Herbert Burgman pulled a gun and fired at Alan, but missed anything vital and hit his left shoulder. The pain was incredible, but Alan was so hopped up on anger and the need for vengeance that he didn’t notice. He grabbed Herbert’s gun hand and crushed it around the gun, squeezing as hard as he could. With his other hand, he grabbed a fist full of Burgman’s shirt and tie and lifted him from behind his desk. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?” shrieked Burgman.

“Give me money,” shouted Alan through the closed helmet faceplate.

Burgman looked at the blood covered helmet, but all he could see was his own panicked reflection. “Ten million, I have ten million available. Cash. I’ll give it all to you.”

“Give me this office!” This is where Alan’s parents and ten dozen other people died. He wants it as a memorial.

“It’s yours!”

“Give me your fish.” Alan didn’t know why he said that. He didn’t really want the tank, he just liked fish and water.

“Fine! Take them! They’re yours! What else do you want?”

Alan’s helmet faceplate snapped open and Dr. Herbert Burgman was looking at the Harrison Scarlett he met over 25 years ago. “GIVE ME MY FATHER!”

“GIVE ME MY MOTHER,” said Christa, as she stepped out from behind Alan. “You were behind everything; you left a trail of paperwork a mile wide.”

Now he was looking at the Laurel Clark-Scarlett he knew back then, flush with new life in her womb. She was a sweet, desirable woman back then. This version of her is so similar, except for the expression of anger and disgust on her face. “Our parents printed and saved every order you gave them regarding the virus. They even saved the order that said you would kill us if they didn’t.”

“I would never do that!”

“You ordered your lab assistants Sander Nickel and Napoleon Lowe to plant an explosive on the wall in this auditorium on October 7th, 2031. We have their records.”

“What? They disappeared years ago.”

“I found them,” said Alan. “You ordered the deaths of thirty-three people on the Lake Baikal. We found Sander Nickel and Napoleon Lowe’s bodies outside of the ship. Twenty-four passengers were killed by the Burgman virus. Six were killed by being bolted in their compartments and left to slowly starve to death, and three were killed by opium injection.”

“That’s ridiculous, you can’t prove a thing...”

“A ship left the Lake Baikal and landed at the Kōngchéng Colony. I dumped the logs of that ship not very long ago, then I got into the Kōngchéng data files and I was happy to find that they kept extensive records. They even described how they killed your men Sander Nickel and Napoleon Lowe after they injected the virus into “Patient 24.” They remotely opened Nickel and Lowe’s helmets and spaced them to keep them from bringing the virus back.”

“NO!”

“They were an Eastern Bloc crew, their idea of lab sanitation was different from the West, especially when a virus is involved,” continued Christa. “Soon the entire ship’s crew had the Burgman Virus. Three weeks after they landed, everyone in Kōngchéng colony was dead. Everyone was killed by the Burgman Virus. Before they died they set up a narrow band warning to earth, “It’s Loose!” and one of our satellites stumbled across that message. Just by chance, that’s how we discovered that the Burgman Virus was loose.”

“It’s the Scarlett Virus.”

“By the way, my Aunt Tammy was Patient 11, and my Cousin Shiela was Patient 12,” said Christa, as Anna taped up the holes in Alan’s pressure suit. “I should kill you just for that, you sick bastard.”

“It’s the Scarlett Virus!” shrieked Herbert Burgman. “I didn’t order anything like that!”