Gunmetal Dark
By Angelina Vansen

RATING: NC-17
CODES: Uber J/7 overall.
SUMMARY: We return to the story of Colonel Filer, who has hatched a new plan to defeat the Tenkatech army. If this means nothing to you, you should start at the beginning.

15.

The door buzzed. They were here.

It was 0800 hours. Filer sat behind her desk. She wore the uniform she had worn all night; she had not slept.

She had not moved from this chair. In fact, she had barely moved at all. All night she had waited. Thought about what she would tell her officers.

She was dizzy with fatigue; her eyes watered in the strong light. Her mouth was dry and tasted unpleasant and stale.

The door buzzed again.

The monitor showed Shar in the corridor outside, thumbing the pad for entry. The other officers behind her. Shar looked better today. More in control.

Filer keyed their entry. The door opened.

Shar's eyes widened at Filer's appearance. Her mouth fell open. Her pretty pink mouth. Her pretty green eyes. Filer could not help but admire them. Desire them. Shar sat down in one of the chairs, thighs and bottom squashed against its surface. Filer licked her lips.

The others sat down, too. Exchanged looks. Vich. Samm. Magg. Leemann. Worried looks. Slight fear.

Filer waited while everyone settled. Then she stood. Palms on her desk. Light-headed, she swayed on her feet.

Nobody asked if she was all right. Nobody dared. They shrank backwards into their seats. Their eyes everywhere but on their Colonel.

"I've called you here to discuss the next phase of our operation," she said, her voice a croak.

"Leemann?" she asked.

He looked startled.

"What would be your best estimate for the repair and restart of Truestar B?"

"Fully operational, Colonel?"

"Yes."

"Eight to twelve weeks, ma'am. I know it seems like a long time, but an emergency shutdown like that is catastrophic to the system. It's burned out most of the laserboards. Plus everything will have to be silence-tested and reintegrated. Then there are new security codes to program ..."

Filer held up a hand. She got the picture. "So we're cut off. No communication for eight to twelve weeks."

Leemann nodded, though it hadn't been a question.

"You are all aware that when we get back online there will need to be explanations?"

They shifted in their seats. Some nodding. Shar bit her lip. Magg twisted his hands in his lap.

"Therefore, we have eight to twelve weeks to produce results."

"Results?" This came from Vich.

"Yes, results. Or we're all court-martialled."

More nervous shifting from her officers.

"What do you propose, Colonel?" asked Shar. "I think it will be difficult to track Doctor Sigg now, particularly without Truestar B."

Filer shook her head. "Forget Sigg. She was useless. Tenkatech keep everyone in the dark about everything. I should have known."

"What did you have in mind?"

"We have to attack the Softsuit problem from a different angle."

Filer walked out from behind her desk, holding her officers' attention utterly. Her feet felt better underneath her now, but the lack of sleep still made her giddy. Euphoric almost. Every word coming out of her mouth felt good. Something holy.

"I've been thinking," she said. "Tenkatech have always beaten us so far because we're frightened of the technology, of what they do to themselves."

Wrinkled brows from the officers in front of her. Confusion.

"The government, our government, tells us there's nothing worse than to implant technology into our bodies and become part of a global Network, right?"

"Well, yes ..." said Shar, nervously.

Filer span around to face her. "Why?" the Colonel demanded.

"It destroys who you are."

"Does it?"

Silence. Everyone looked scared.

Filer continued. "Perhaps that's Tenkatech's Achilles' heel. They expect us to squirrel ourselves away in bunkers like this one, making minor incursions here and there which they quickly suppress. What they don't expect ... is for us to use their technology against them."

Filer's circuit of the room took her back behind her desk. She sat down. Back straight. Eyes steady. Looking at them all one at a time.

"They think we're afraid of it."

"Isn't that the point?" said Shar. "I thought that was why our government took us to war, so we didn't all end up plugged into a global Network with Augbrains in our heads. We should be afraid of it."

Filer pointed her finger at Shar.

"There. That's it. That's what I mean. That's exactly why Tenkatech are winning this war."

An indrawn breath from everyone present.

"Don't look so shocked," she admonished her officers. "You actually believe that propaganda they feed us? We're losing. Quickly."

"No ..." breathed Samm. "No, Colonel. We've made significant gains. The moons ..."

"The moons are lost. All but one. And our soldiers are under siege, starving and riddled with disease."

Another gasp. Shar's hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes looked huge.

"No ..." she breathed.

"I'm sorry," Filer said. "But it's the truth. I'm privy to intelligence that you're not, and that's what's happening."

"No ... no ... it can't be ... you're wrong."

Filer bit into the soft meat of her tongue. Shar's daughter was on the moons. Kimber. Fat, sweet Kimber. Bet she wasn't so fat after a month of siege.

"I'm sorry," she said again. Was she sorry? She wasn't really sure. A perverse side of her enjoyed shattering the illusion of propaganda. "But this is why we have to act," she continued. "It's not only for the missing, it's for the living, too."

Everyone watched her now. She had their complete attention. She stood, rising to her full height under the magnificent gaze of five pairs of eyes. All of them rapt. Spellbound.

"We have to act. We're the only ones who can."

Yes. Yes. They were hers. She had them once again.

Slow, measured footsteps, another circuit round her office. Listening to the baited breath of her officers. Her people. This was her kingdom. She was their Queen. Divine. Oh, yes.

Round the room and then back to her desk. She leant forward on her palms. Fixed each of them with a long, strong stare.

Drunk with fatigue, filled with a holy sense of purpose, Filer told them,

"I'm going to implant myself with an Orgbrain."

It took a moment for them to comprehend. Silence. Then eyes widened. Jaws dropped.

"An ... Orgbrain?" spluttered Magg. "A Tenkatech Orgbrain?"

"Yes."

"Colonel ..."

"We have the materials. We have the expertise. The only thing we don't have is first hand knowledge of how they work. How they interact with machines. I intend to get that information."

"By ... mutilating yourself?!" This was Shar. Shrill voice.

"Mutilating? Is that what you think?" Filer asked her. Shar's green eyes were full of unfathomable emotion.

"Yes! You want to crack the Softsuits by becoming one?"

"It's not a Softsuit. It's an Orgbrain. It's totally different. Like a comset in your head."

"It's part of the Softsuit. The main part."

"Sergeant, it's the only way."

"I beg to differ. Colonel, those things ..."

"They can be broken."

"I'm not disputing that. But this ... putting enemy technology, Softsuit technology, inside your body ..."

"I would be able to communicate with other Orgbrains. Speak to them. Understand them."

"You'll be Tenkatech. One of them."

"Is that what you really believe?" Filer hissed. "That misinformation? It's not Augbrains that make Tenkatech people who they are. It's the ability to think beyond their own bodies."

Shar shook her head. "You make it sound like something positive."

"It's winning the war for them."

"It takes away their humanity! Do you want that? To be a brainwashed Tenkatech robot? Sparta ..."

Filer flinched. Shar had never used her Colonel's given name in front of anyone.

She sighed. "All right. Let's dispel some myths. Ignorance and fear is the Citizens' greatest enemy. Leemann?"

He looked up, nervous. "Yes, Colonel?"

"When we captured that first Softsuit, you were on the team that disassembled it, correct?"

"Yes, Colonel."

"Yes. Tell us. What is the Orgbrain?"

He licked his lips. "Well," he began. "As far as we could tell, it's an organic version of Tenkatech's Augbrain. The next generation, if you will. It's grown rather than assembled, and it carries a basic genetic growth code within each of its cells. Basically, it's infinitely reproducible, infinitely clonable, even a couple of cells from one would produce another complete Orgbrain in the right environment."

"Inside the head," Filer added.

"Yes," Leemann agreed. "Once inside the head, it automatically grows into place across the top of the brain, like a second dura. It interacts with the brain via microscopic bores into the tissue. Stimulators. In the case of the Softsuit, these stimulators animate the body and control it utterly."

"So does that mean that if I were to implant an Orgbrain, I would become a Softsuit?"

"No, Colonel. Aside from the reanimation process, the Orgbrain functions no differently than a regular Augbrain."

"And there's no way it could brainwash me or make me Tenkatech?"

"No, Colonel."

"No," she turned to the rest of her officers, triumphant. "It's a tool. Augbrains do not interfere with their user's thought processes at all. Despite what our government would have us believe, Tenkatech do not control anybody with Augbrains. They don't need to."

Shar looked at the floor. Shook her head.

"Sergeant?"

"Three Stars Command would not let you do this."

"No, but they wouldn't have let me kidnap Doctor Sigg and murder General Menendez either, would they? And nobody here had a problem with that."

"This is different."

"Yes, it is. But it's my risk. If I become a Softsuit or Tenkatech, you can always kill me."

She let out a short bark of laughter, and then abruptly wished she hadn't. No one else laughed.

"Look," she said in a softer tone. "If the Softsuit army swept over our homelands tomorrow, every one of us would sacrifice our lives to stop them. Many of our loved ones already have. There are twenty-two of our people in the infirmary right now who have."

They fell silent. Vich and Samm nodded.

"The worst that will happen to me is that I will die. So what's one more life when we've already given up so many?"

She started yet another slow circuit of her office. Listening to her officers breathe.

"The alternative is that we sit here for eight to twelve weeks waiting for Truestar B to be repaired, and then we continue with our useless mission, providing data no one looks at."

She let out another short laugh.

"You didn't know that either, did you? I've been so loyal to them. Well, no more."

Filer shook her head. "I've sent Three Stars packets of data that Truestar B hacked from the Network. Crucial data. Most of it is still sitting in the bothy, unopened. They've never looked at it."

Nervous, wide-eyed glances between the officers.

"This is how close we are to losing. Everyone's too busy just trying to survive."

She let their silence hang as she stepped back behind her desk. Sat down. Let out a long, weary sigh.

"Leemann, take control of Cleanlab 1. Use whoever you need to, but keep this on a strictly need-to-know basis. How long does it take to grow the tissue?"

"Thirty minutes. It's very fast once the gene is stimulated. But the programming ... the prep ... several hours."

"This evening? Say ... nineteen hundred?"

"Yes, Colonel."

"Good. We'll begin then."

Silence. Leemann nodded, grim.

"Right. You're all dismissed."

They all rose to their feet. They looked disoriented. Confused. Shellshocked. Nobody spoke as they filed out. Nobody looked at anyone else.

Filer watched her monitor, the image of the corridor outside. Watched the officers walk away without saying a word to each other.

Shar held herself wrapped in her arms. The grainy monochrome image showed her back, disappearing. Filer watched. Put a finger on the screen to touch Shar's shape.

When the corridor was empty, Filer switched her screen to the schematic she had studied all night. The Orgbrain. Live data fed through Truestar A from General Menendez's head.

Her finger, the finger that had rested on Shar's figure, traced the contours on the screen: his skull, his brain, the Orgbrain between. The channels it dug, deep spikes burrowing into the lobes of his brain.

It thrilled and terrified her. How would it feel to have one of these? Would there be pain? Confusion? Or would it feel natural, like an extra sense?

She got up from her desk. Poured a drink and sank it quickly. It burned her mouth and throat, but it woke her.

Shar. She needed to see Shar. The chair where Shar had sat looked sad and empty. Shar had cared. Called Filer by her given name.

She wanted to hold Shar, crush her into an embrace with every last piece of humanity she had left. Press warm kisses all over her face. Whisper words.

Things she couldn't do.

She marched down the corridor, ignored those who passed her. Her brain wavered violently between euphoria and fatigue; the echo of her footsteps seemed tinny and distant.

She went straight to the office block.

SERGEANT A. SHAR
Deputy Unit Commander

Below was a strip of resin; Sergeant Dock had shared this office, but he was dead in the infirmary after the Softsuit attack. Shar had obviously torn his name off the door.

Filer knocked softly.

"Come in!" Shar shouted from the other side. Businesslike. Snappy. Expecting a subordinate.

Filer went in. Shar was seated at her desk, surrounded by comsets full of the morning's reports. Her hair was messy. Her cap had been discarded.

"Oh, it's you," she said. Exasperated.

Filer bristled. "I think 'Good morning, Colonel' would be a better greeting."

Shar took a deep breath. Rubbed her eyes. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. Good morning, Colonel."

"Good morning, Sergeant."

"Would you like to take a seat, Colonel?" The emphasis on Filer's title.

Filer shook her head. "I wanted to talk to you."

Shar put down the comset she was holding. "Yes?" she said. Her voice was clipped and businesslike. Nothing warm. Nothing personal.

Shar was angry.

Filer didn't like this. Where was the officer who followed her without question? Where was the woman who she visited at night? It made her uneasy. Uncertain. Filer did not like to be uncertain.

"As you know, Sergeant, the Orgbrain implantation will take place at nineteen-hundred hours."

Shar said nothing. Her face was blank.

Filer continued. "In the event of my incapacity or death, I would like you to take command of the unit."

Shar looked away. "Fine," she said. She did not look back at her commanding officer.

Silence. Neither woman spoke.

"I think 'Yes, Colonel' would be the proper response," said Filer after a long moment.

Shar shook her head. Looked away, eyes filling with tears.

Filer felt instantly guilty. "Arden ..." she whispered. Took a step towards her.

Shar held up a hand. "Don't," she said. The word was almost a sob.

Filer stopped. Stood where she was. "Arden, it will be all right."

"No, it won't ... it won't will it ..."

The Sergeant dissolved into full tears. Held her face in her hands and wept.

Filer was overwhelmed. Touched. She rounded the desk and fell to her knees in front of Shar. Reached for her.

Shar did not respond and Filer's hands were left empty, hanging and ridiculous. She quickly placed them on the arm of Shar's chair.

"It will be fine," she reassured. "Leemann knows what he's doing ..."

But Shar was not listening. "Tell me ... tell me it's not true, please ..."

Filer sat back. "What?"

Shar's pale eyes twinkled with tears in the lights. "On the moons. Tell me ..."

Of course. How could she have been so stupid? Shar was not crying over Filer's plans to implant an Orgbrain. Why would she? She was thinking of her daughter Kimber, fighting on the moons. She was thinking of what Filer had said in the meeting, about the Citizen soldiers starving and plagued by disease.

Filer sighed. Stood up, walked away. "I'm sorry," she said. Looked at the wall.

"No ..."

"I had to say it. I had to tell everyone. We need to do something, we have to act."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say something before?!"

"Because it's classified information. Battle reports, tactical plans ... they're eyes-only."

"That's ridiculous! You could have told me! My daughter's out there!"

"I know."

"Then why didn't you tell me!" Shar screamed. She crossed the room in short strides and grabbed Filer's arm. Pulled the Colonel around to face her, violently. "Look at me! Why didn't you tell me, Sparta?"

Filer was instantly enraged. Nobody touched the Colonel. She pushed Shar into the wall. Pressed against her. Pinned her with one arm across her throat.

"I didn't tell you because of this!" she hissed, right into the Sergeant's face. "Crying every ten minutes, kissing stills before bed ... you're not stable. I need you to be at your post, doing your job. Not dwelling on what might happen on a distant battlefield!"

Fear in Shar's eyes. Anger. She breathed hard, breasts heaving against Filer. They were pressed together from thigh to belly to nipple.

A terrible rush of arousal raced through Filer's body. She was stronger than Shar. She could rape her.

She let her go. Walked away, towards the desk. Leaned over it, head down.

Behind her, Shar panted.

"I'm sorry," Filer told her. "I didn't want to make it worse."

Soft footsteps on the floor. Shar came to her. Put her small hand with its small, short fingers, on the desk next to Filer's hand. So close she could feel the heat from Shar's skin. Close, but not a touch.

"You need some sleep," Shar said. Gentle. "Did you get any last night?"

Filer shook her head. Still bent over the desk.

"I didn't think so. Go. Back to your quarters," Shar ordered. Maternal and affectionate. "I'll do your shift, make sure you're not disturbed. I'll come and get you before your ... operation."

Filer stood up. Looked Shar in the eyes, hoping her look conveyed everything. Her gratitude. Her need.

She nodded once. "Thank you, Sergeant."

She turned away and headed for the door. So many words, but Filer said none of them. Bit her tongue so hard it bled in her mouth, copper and bitter.

She walked out of Shar's office and let the door close behind her without another word. Returned to her quarters.

She did not feel good. Her eyes watered and she felt sick and dizzy. Her head throbbed. So tired that the lights lining the corridor buzzed and streaked in her peripheral vision.

She went to her quarters. Stripped to her underwear and fell into her bed, eyes screwed shut to keep them closed.

Footsteps in the corridor outside. She opened her eyes. Shar? Her heart leapt. She imagined opening her door and taking the Sergeant into her arms, pulling her into the bed and wrapping her arms around that soft, curvaceous body while she slept.

The footsteps continued past the door, echoed into the distance.

Filer held her pillow. Bit the corner of it, hard. Shar would not come. Shar was on duty. Shar was angry with her.

Another set of footsteps approached. Went. Then two people, walking together. Talking. Just traffic outside her door, soldiers on their way somewhere. On duty. Off duty. Friends and comrades.

Shar never came to her quarters. Why would now be different? It wasn't as if they were in love.

She listened to the rhythms of her bunker. The sounds of chatter, and footsteps, and the sound of the repairs to the hangar somewhere in the distance. They soothed her. Hushed her. Rocked by this lullaby, she dropped easily asleep.

---

When she woke, it was just after 1800. She felt better; her head felt clear, and she was well rested.

She got out of bed to prepare a basin of cold water and had a brief strip-wash. The water rinsed away her fatigue, but it reminded her of the Sluice as well. So cold it hurt. Made her numb.

Next, she dressed. A fresh uniform. Trousers. Shirt. Jacket. Smoothing the lines, the seams. The hems. Over her hips, her waist, her chest. Boots, heavy and strong. Well-worn but gleaming and clean.

She brushed her hair, tied it back and sprayed it with a fixer so it shone in the lights. Smart. Sharp lines. This was who the Colonel was.

Her reflection stared at her from the mirror on the back of the door. Strong eyes. Strong jaw. Skin colourless because she'd been underground so long.

No more. Tonight would be the turning of the tide. No more hiding. No more fear. She would fight back for all of them.

The door buzzed.

Shar was there, her head lifted to meet Filer's eyes.

"Cleanlab 1 is ready for you, Colonel," she said. Strong voice. Much more like the woman she had been before.

"Thank you, Sergeant."

Filer picked up her cap, tucked it under her arm and left her quarters. Walked with Shar down the corridor in silence.

Their boots fell into rhythm, one step after the next after the next. Their footsteps booming in the narrow space. Eyes forward, arms swinging, more military than they had been in months.

CLEANLAB 1
FIELD ENABLED: TRUE

Shar went ahead and used her code to open the door for her Colonel. Stepped aside with back straight and chest thrust forward.

Filer passed her, close enough to hear her breathing. See the tightness in her jaw.

"Thank you, Sergeant," she whispered.

Filer went into the lab, and Shar followed her. Leemann was there, standing by the operating table. A couple of his team hovered in the background. Nervous.

"Good evening," Filer said. Put her hat on the bench. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes, Colonel," nodded Leemann.

"Very good. We can begin whenever you're ready."

"Thank you, Colonel." He held out a nasal spray. "Pro-med," he told her. An anaesthetic.

Filer nodded, and took it from him. Shar shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Jittery.

Filer sat up on the operating table. Pulled off her jacket, gave it to Shar. Took off her boots and tucked them away.

She wanted to ask Leemann to give her a minute, a minute alone with Shar, so she could talk to her, tell her the things she wanted to say. She didn't.

Instead, she took the nasal spray and used it, sprayed its contents liberally up each of her nostrils. Sniffed back its bitter mist.

Sat watching her feet while she waited for it to work. Hands on her lap, folded neatly together.

Shar stood close, the Colonel's jacket folded over her arm. Bit her lip. Her eyes flickered from Leemann to Filer and back again.

Suddenly, Filer felt faint. Her breath felt hot in her mouth and throat, her chest heavy. She looked up with panicky eyes.

"Is it starting to work?" Shar asked.

Filer nodded. It prickled her brain. Overwhelmed. She reached out a hand, a gasp escaping her.

"Wait ..." she said.

"It's all right, Colonel ..." said Leemann, distant. His hands were on her shoulders, he helped her lie down. Someone else had her feet, twisting her so she was flat on the operating table.

Filer was not herself. She wasn't here. She was a child, she was small, she was centimetres tall. She was falling, she was scared.

"No!" she cried. "No, don't leave me ... no!"

"We're not going anywhere," soothed Leemann. "We'll all be here when you wake up."

"Arden," she murmured; her mouth barely had the strength to form Shar's name.

If Shar replied, Filer did not hear it. She was already gone.

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 16 ...


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