Patterns of Chaos: Book One - The First War

Christopher St. George was dreaming of a hatefully grinning insect boring into his leg when he awoke. He was still hospitalized, the doctors debating if they should pin his leg together or just allow it to heal naturally. In Chris’ opinion, they should just splint him and cram him back into his fighter cockpit, but he knew that he was slightly biased in his desires.

He had been awoken by the sound of his door closing and locking. Opening his eyes, he saw a redheaded woman in a lab coat. Or...was she? Red-haired, but it might have been dyed, for the color seemed to be fading.

“Lieutenant. I trust you’re recuperating well?” She strode across the room, seating herself next to his bed.

“Well enough.” He reached for a pitcher, drew himself a glass of water. “And you would be…?”

“You may call me Ms. Ashpool.” Her voice was somewhat prim, restrained. Her accent placed her as either American or Canadian. “I have a proposition for you. I represent certain...interests who admire your bravery and resolve against the Psi-Omegan threat.”

Christopher snorted. “Bravery? My first real fight against any of them landed me here. And I still don’t understand exactly what happened.”

“What happened, Lieutenant, was that using the same telekinetic abilities that Paul Stragdoc used to murder your father, Calixta Morsalis jammed your engine with a corpse, sending you into a tailspin. You’re lucky to be alive right now.”

Christopher thought back to what happened. It was all a bit fuzzy, but he did recall something hurtling at him from the ground. He sipped his water. “Can they all do things like that, then?”

The Ashpool woman nodded somberly.

“Bloody hell.” He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had inherited from his father. “If they can all do things like that, we’re right beaten. Throwing things with their minds, healing from death, no way we can beat that.”

Ashpool smiled strangely. “But you would still try, wouldn’t you?”

Christopher met her gaze evenly. “Damned right I would.”

“Because of your father?”

He shook his head. “Believe me ma’am, I want that creep Stragdoc dead for what he did to my dad, but there’s more to it. Even if my dad died when I was young, I would still fight against Stragdoc because of what he represents. I know many of the people up there are probably good folks; they are just misled by lies, misinformation, whatever you want to call it. The point is, there is a madman sitting above our heads who does not care about who he has to step on to get what he wants. And he convinced a whole bunch of folks that that’s okay. And it’s not.”

Ashpool nodded in agreement. “Damned right it isn’t.” She took a deep breath. “Lieutenant, the offer I’m going to make you, you can’t take it lightly. We...I did a lot of research to be sure that you were the right person for this.”

“The right person for what, ma’am?”

Ashpool removed a medical phial from her pocket, showing him a pale red substance. “This. An experimental copy of whatever Stragdoc does to people. Regeneration that will give you an edge in battle. Possibly an extended lifespan. As far as the mental powers, I honestly don’t know.”

Christopher swallowed. “Um. Side effects?”

“Side effects? You will see those you love grow old and die. Friends will die from wounds and ailments that you will find a minor nuisance. And you won’t be able to do anything about it...except see that the ones responsible are brought to justice.”

“That’s...a lot to take in.” He looked her in the eye. “What would you do?”

Ashpool smiled sadly. “Not how it works. You have to decide yourself, not let someone else decide for you.”

Christopher nodded understanding. “Because that’s what he does, isn’t it? Convince people it’s in their own best interest to do it?” He closed his eyes. “Do it.”

A moment later it was done.

“I don’t feel any different.”

“You won’t. But it will take a few days for the change to take full effect. Your leg should heal in less than forty-eight hours or so.”

“So does this make me...an Alphite? Because if my leg miraculously heals, you can bet they’re going to check my blood.”

Ashpool shook her head. “No. Think of this as a kind of ‘proto-Alphite’ stage. You won’t heal nearly as fast as one of them, and you’ll still age...just slowly.”

Christopher nodded. “There were rumours of a woman working against the Psi-Omegans on her own. Your name isn’t Ashpool, is it?”

She stood and walked to the door. “Goodbye, Lieutenant.” She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Good luck, and don’t squander this gift. Earn it.”

He smiled at her. “I intend to.”

Then she was gone. Christopher suddenly grabbed at his leg, hissing in pain as the bones began knitting together.

For what neither he nor “Ashpool” could have known was that compared to massive neural regeneration or the purging of cancerous cells...broken bones were extremely simple for the Paradigm treatment to fix.

Too bad it did nothing for the pain. Or the maddening itch.

Jennifer made her way to the front desk of the hospital, having ditched her doctor disguise. “Excuse me, could you please get this to Christopher St. George? Tell him it’s from an admirer?” She batted her eyes coquettishly at the orderly she had cornered.

He took the proffered data drive. “Uh, sure?” St. George had been getting gifts sent since his arrival, his story having attracted a great deal of attention from the ladies.

“Thanks so much!” She kissed the young man on the cheek, and then strode out, almost instantly dropping the fan girl facade once her back was to the orderly. Ok, St. George. Up to you now. Go slay yourself a dragon.