Gunmetal Dark
By Angelina Vansen

RATING: NC-17 overall for sex and violence
CODES: Uber J/7
SUMMARY: After removing the Softsuit from MIA #223939 (Seven of Nine), Dr. Kaine Sigg (Janeway) helped her to discover her real name. But that will probably mean nothing to you unless you start at the beginning.


18.

There was too much noise. Too many thoughts, too many signals. Mia could not sleep.

Kaine, however, slept deeply; she was flat on her back and snoring in the quiet dark blue of the bedroom.

Mia was too restless for sleep. She paced the house. Upstairs, down again. Hearing the machines in each room.

Her head felt strange. Not right. Like she was disconnected. Her Orgbrain had become increasingly confused overnight, as though it had finally caught up with what had happened to her body.

It cried out for the Softsuit, constantly sent signals to missing components. Queries that were no longer relevant, then pleas for responses. When none were forthcoming, it issued error reports.

Mia's head was full of this noise, so loud it required effort to separate her thoughts from the clamour and static.

Physically, she felt odd, too. Her body suddenly seemed small and useless without the Softsuit: too delicate, too vulnerable. What had seemed like a wonderful release only hours ago now seemed like a terrible loss.

She did not like that sensation. She had fought so hard to be free of the Softsuit, and now, she almost missed it. Being soft and organic was strangely horrible.

So she walked about the house. Touched things. Interacted with them using her own senses. She thought it might help her adjust. Let her Orgbrain know there was more to her than the Softsuit.

She washed her hands in cold water to feel the sensation, and then dried them with a rough towel that hurt her skin slightly. She tried food from a cupboard, opened a jar and dipped her tongue in to experience the flavour.

Just for the feeling. No data. Just her nerves. Her impulses. Just to feel the response of her tissue.

Nothing felt good. It was all huge and shocking, far too much for her confused senses to handle.

She went into the kitchen to look at the pieces of the Softsuit that were left on the table. Almost longing, but not quite. She was under no illusion as to what the Softsuit was; a cruel, ugly weapon of war. It was responsible for the way she felt right now.

She picked up one of the cuffs. The gun cache had been cracked open, the weapon and ammunition removed.

She stroked it, felt the craftsmanship. Remembered standing alone and afraid in the desert, trying to pull it off with her bare hands.

She shuddered. Remembered the black pulses of the termination system. Remembered the remorseless numbers, counting down.

No, she did not miss the Softsuit at all.

Outside, dawn broke, and the artificial plants activated. They were set to a timer, and their petals and leaves unfurled in unison.

INITIATION SEQUENCE ACTIVE:
PROGRAM 112S DAWN v.7.5.2
IN PROGRESS

Mia set down the Softsuit's cuff and moved to the kitchen doors.

She watched light seep into the sky over the garden. She pressed her hand against the cool acrylic of the door. Another sensation. Nerves in her hand fired, made her flinch. A muscle spasm travelled all the way up her arm.

Outside, wind lifted leaves on the trees and ruffled blades of grass on the lawn. Overhead, dark clouds drifted across a pale grey sky.

Mia breathed. Her breath misted the acrylic. It was warm and moist across the back of her hand, the breath of a human being.

The breath of Brett Viesturs.

Brett. The name her mind had turned over and over all night. The woman who shared her birth data. The woman whose genes she carried.

The woman she had been before she died.

Brett Viesturs. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the door as well.

She desperately wished the name meant something to her, that it was the beginning of a journey back to family and friends and a home somewhere. Back to a life, something other than raw nerves and a desperate Orgbrain.

In reality, it was just a name. Like Kaine Sigg. Johnny Matei. Zandy Tada.

Names. Just names. Brett Viesturs meant nothing to this blank, dead head full of Orgbrain and machinery. Nothing at all.

The hand on the window curled into a frustrated fist. Mia had come so far, accomplished so much, and yet everything she sought was still far out of her reach.

It was too much. Kaine expected too much of her. To go into the Network for such a short time, to give her a partially decrypted file and expect her to be satisfied ... it was too much.

Her jaw tightened.

Brett Viesturs.

What use was this name to her? It meant nothing.

Kaine, it seemed, was unwilling to help her further. And yet there were so many mysteries. Mia's birth data had been encrypted; why? Who had she been and why would it have been important to keep it a secret?

These things did not matter to Kaine. Her concern was for Tenkatech, her Augbrain, about the damage to her body. If she had been allowed to proceed according to her own thoughts, Mia would still be inside the Softsuit.

This was why she had not wished to remain in the Network and decode Mia's birth data further. She had thought Mia would be satisfied with just a name.

No. Just as she had been in the desert, Mia was alone. Just her. Her and the Network.

The Network. She felt it; it pulsed through the noise in her head, purple and steady. If she opened her port, she could be there. Find the things Kaine would not.

HOME BOTHY #jULLa 77-00-66
DRIVE V: RECEIVING
INPUT?

it said.

INPUT?

Upstairs, Kaine slept. Mia heard the doctor's Augbrain, struggling with its errors. Kaine was still in the bedroom, asleep on the bed.

INPUT?

Yes. She would do it. She would find the answers.

INPUT?

Kaine's fears were irrational. Mia opened her port.

NETWORK ACCESS GRANTED

Mia relaxed into it. Pushed her consciousness through the back of her neck like an exhalation.

A sharp flare of disassociation ... and then the sensation of being rebuilt. Nerves, muscles, skin, hair ... so different from the ashen lump her body felt in reality.

Breathtaking. This was how it felt to be alive, an organic being. Cells and nerves and skin, each delicious with little rippling hairs.

Even the clothes Kaine had chosen for her avatar felt wonderful. Folds and creases of fabric caressed her virtual skin. Warmed her. Cradled her.

Her visual data interface popped into life. She was in the bothy. Outside, she heard the sea, and wind, and hard rain. Inside, the fire crackled and threw heat against her.

CONNECTED

For the first time in hours, her Orgbrain was silent. Blissfully silent. No clamouring for the Softsuit, no begging for an interface. In the Network, it was cut off from all that.

It was ironic, but in this virtual place she felt more alive than she did in her own body.

She wondered if this was close to how it had felt to be Brett Viesturs. Alive, in contact with her own mind, her own thoughts in control.

Experiencing it here was a revelation. Now she was even more determined to find out who she had once been.

She could not, however, use Kaine's office. The programs and interfaces there required the doctor's passwords. She would have to use another tool.

"Load Think Tank," she called to the stone walls of the bothy, just as she had seen Kaine do. "Default environment."

She pushed at the rough wooden door to the hut and stepped out onto the hub. The door to the Think Tank was already there, looming over her.

She entered the stone corridor without hesitation and followed it to the room where the Think Tank sat.

"Welcome, traveller," they greeted. "Do you have a query?"

Mia swallowed. "Yes," she told them. "I wish to decode a file."

One of the hooded figures turned towards her. "Traveller, we regret that the Think Tank does not perform that function."

"What do you mean?"

"We are a search facility. We do not offer a decoding service."

"You must!" Mia barked, as if she could change the remit of the Think Tank.

Another figure lifted his head to regard her. "Do you wish to see a list of products which Tenkatech recommend for decoding files?"

"Yes," Mia gasped. "Thank you!"

"You are welcome, traveller. Would you like them listed in order of cost?"

"Cost?"

"Tenkatech do not recommend the use of illegal free-sync wares."

"You mean I would have to pay money to decode the file?"

"Tenkatech do not recommend the use of illegal free-sync wares," the hooded figure repeated.

"I have no currency," Mia told them.

Immediately a myriad of interfaces popped open around her. Brightly coloured, flashing, each designed to be more eyecatching than the last.

!!!MAKE MONEY FOR NOTHING!!!

said one.

I MADE T$700 TODAY! I TELL YOU MY SECRET ON MY HUB!

said another.

FREE MONEY-MAKING COURSE

DON'T MISS OUT ON THE BIG MONEY HUB!

"Go away!" Mia told them, irritated.

They all snapped shut.

She looked back to the nearest member of the Think Tank. "How about DeAlgo?" It was the decrypter Kaine had used, the one that had managed to give her a name.

"Tenkatech regrets that in the current state of war, the use of DeAlgo is restricted."

"I am military personnel!"

"The Think Tank does not perform that function as we currently operate outside the Tenkatech TopFrame. Only members with hubs inside Tenkatech office space are permitted access."

Like Kaine's office, which Mia could not use without the doctor's assistance. She gritted her teeth, frustrated. She had made no progress.

The trouble was, the Think Tank was intended for recreational use. It was designed for casual users of the Network who needed easy information.

It seemed there were no easy routes to decoding her birth data, especially in times of war.

Mia bit her lip and stared into the crackling fire. The flames, angry and orange, were as restless as she felt.

"Do you have another query, traveller?" asked the closest figure, who was seated at the hearth.

Mia stared into the black depths of its hood.

"Yes," she whispered. "I wish to know about Brett Viesturs."

Until now, she had not thought to ask directly. Perhaps the birth data was not the only information stored on the Network.

The Think Tank paused. Seconds passed, measured by the perfectly regular spit and crackle of the fire beside Mia.

Then the figure by the fire spoke again.

"Brett Viesturs, individual. Existence registered by TenkaRecords file VA-OI-71-S."

"Yes?" Mia breathed excitedly.

"This is all the information the Think Tank can provide on this individual."

"That is it?" Mia questioned.

The hooded figure elaborated. "Birth data file corrupt or missing. No registered location. No registered profession. No Network entries pertaining to this individual. No spaces or hubs that are registered to this individual. No mentions of this individual in genealogical records. Do you have an additional query?"

"There must be something else!" Mia cried. "You will search again."

"Would you care to see the half-matches to your query?"

"Half-matches?" Mia did not understand.

The Think Tank paused again. "We find 7,570,000 matches for your search string "Brett". 210,000 entries pertaining to "Viesturs". One entry for "Viesturs, B." ..."

"Wait," Mia interrupted. "Viesturs, B? One entry?"

"Correct."

"Display entry."

An interface popped open before her. It displayed black text on a white background.

PUBLIC NOTES OF NETMEETING 166-BB-A
TWIN CITIES DRAINAGE AND TENKATECH BIOSYSTEMS
LOCATION: TENAKTECH BIOSYSTEMS PUBLIC OFFICE HUB 41-A-S-28

PRESENT:
KOONER, R (CHAIR)- TWIN CITIES DRAINAGE (TCD)
LOCK, J - TCD
VASS, C - TCD
SCOTT, E - TENKATECH BIOSYSTEMS (TBS)
YORK, J (TBS)
VIESTURS, B (TBS)

Mia stopped reading. Her heart jumped in her chest. There. It was there. The name, her name. She read it again and again to be sure.

VIESTURS, B (TBS)

It was real.

"I was there?" she asked.

"The Think Tank does not understand your query, traveller."

Mia shook her head, dismissive.

VIESTURS, B (TBS)

She looked above, to where it read

SCOTT, E - TENKATECH BIOSYSTEMS (TBS)

Tenkatech Biosystems, inventors of the Softsuit. The division which Kaine worked for.

Brett Viesturs, it seemed, had also worked for them.

She was confused. If she had once been Tenkatech, how had she ended up in a Softsuit? This was totally at odds with everything Kaine had told her.

She had expected to find that Brett Viesturs was a Citizen, a soldier killed in battle. Yet the only reference that remained of her insisted she had been Tenkatech.

She read the rest of the document, eyes scanning frantically for any other occurrence of her name. There was none. Whatever Brett Viesturs had been doing at this meeting, she had not participated enough to warrant a second mention.

The meeting itself seemed insignificant. It concerned Tenkatech Biosystems' desire to add additional drainage conduits under their scraperblock in a place called Redmouth. The discussion had been brief and inconsequential, which was probably why there were only text notes.

Nonetheless, Mia downloaded the file to her Orgbrain. Perhaps Kaine would make better sense of it. Perhaps she could explain why Tenkatech would use one of their own to fill a Softsuit that was meant for the dead body of an enemy.

Suddenly, she felt a tug in her head, like an uncomfortable needle.

BOTHY RECALL

appeared before her.

OWNER PROTOCOL 5

Before she had a chance to react, the Think Tank disintegrated before her eyes, taken apart in a swirl of colour. She tried to draw breath, tried to call out to ask what was happening, but she was pulled into darkness.

Then, there was the bothy.

The stone walls. The howling wind. The spit and crackle of the fire. Mia did not understand.

"What is going on?" she demanded.

A woman. Sitting on the stone bench. Looking up at her.

Blonde hair, ice-blue eyes. A slender woman. Mia recognised her at once. She was the woman from the stills that were displayed around the house.

"What are you doing in my bothy?" she asked.

"Disconnect!" Mia shouted. She had to leave. She had to warn Kaine. They had to run. They had been discovered.

Immediately, her Orgbrain severed the t-sync connection to the bothy. Her virtual form lost its cohesion, and travelled with a rush of purple back through her mainstem port.

Once again, she was in her own body, in the kitchen, by the doors to the garden.

There was noise in her head, there was the dawn outside. There were the pieces of the Softsuit sitting on the table.

There was the woman. The same woman. Standing in front of her with a gun pointed at her head.

"And what are you doing in my house?" the woman asked.

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 19 ...


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