Gunmetal Dark
By Angelina Vansen

RATING: NC-17 overall for sex and violence.
CODES: Uber J/7
SUMMARY: After having an Orgbrain implanted in her head, Colonel Sparta Filer discovered there was little hope for her people in the war against Tenkatech. It would be more fun if you started at the beginning, though.


19.

Filer was awake.

More than awake. She sat bolt upright in bed, and her hands grasped the sheets. Every hair on the back of her neck stood up.

She had heard something. Definitely. Something had spoken to her.

"Hello,"

it said again. A voice. And it wasn't a real voice.

It came from inside her head. She heard it like she heard the machines: the same pitch and the same frequency. But it wasn't a machine. It was a voice.

"Why do you hear me?"

it asked. Followed by silence.

Filer threw herself out of bed to the cold stone floor of Shar's quarters. Scrabbled across the room to find her uniform. Grabbed her trousers. Her shirt. Her jacket.

"Hello?"

asked the voice again. A little impatient.

"You hear me. Electric response from you to me. You hear me."

Filer pulled her clothes on. Wide-eyed. Desperate. Heart hammering. She needed Leemann. She needed a jammer of some sort. Tenkatech, it seemed, had found the Orgbrain.

"No,"

said the voice.

"No Leemann. No Tenkatech."

It could read her thoughts! Panting, she thought instantly of her sidearm. Yes. Back to her quarters, get her weapon, a quick clean shot to her temple would do it.

She could not let them find her, or this bunker. This Orgbrain could get them all killed.

"Why do you hear me?"

It asked.

"Filer, Colonel Sparta! Service Number Four-Nine-One-Nine-One-One-Nine-Two-Seven!" she barked. Then repeated it. "Filer, Colonel Sparta! Service Number Four-Nine-One-Nine-One-One-Nine-Two-Seven!"

Again and again, a mantra.

"Filer, Colonel Sparta! Service Number Four-Nine-One-Nine-One-One-Nine-Two-Seven!"

What she was supposed to say if she was captured. All she was supposed to say.

"Filer, Colonel Sparta! Service Number Four-Nine-One-Nine-One-One-Nine-Two-Seven!"

Shar stirred in the bed. Opened her eyes, disoriented. Looked at Filer.

"Sparta?" she asked.

"Filer, Colonel Sparta! Service Number Four-Nine-One-Nine-One-One-Nine-Two-Seven!"

"Sparta, what's the matter?"

Filer fled. Out of the door and down the corridor. Repeating her name and service number all the way.

She clapped her hands over her ears. Screwed up her eyes. Tried to listen only to the sound of herself, of her own voice, of her own number, her own name ... just her voice, nothing else ... nothing else but that ... she had to get her sidearm, she had to ...

"No!"

the voice shouted, shrill in her head. So loud it stopped her in her tracks. So piercing it almost hurt.

"What are you?!" Filer screamed back.

Her shout echoed down the long corridor, dimly lit because in the world above, it was the middle of the night.

"You hear me."

"Yes, I hear you!" she hissed, much quieter. She pushed open the nearest door: the communal shower room for the quarters nearby. It was dark and empty. Only rows of metal sinks and the sound of dripping water greeted her.

She went to the back and whispered to the voice in her head. "What are you? What's going on?"

For a moment, there was only silence. Then

"You are like me."

"Wh-what?" Filer stammered. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you like me?"

it asked.

"I don't know," Filer replied. Her voice trembled. Fear and adrenalin. "I have absolutely no idea who you are!"

No reply.

"Why can I hear you?" she demanded. "Why are you speaking to me?"

"Who are you?"

"Are you Tenkatech? Somebody from Tenkatech?"

"What is this Tenkatech?"

"The Corporation. The nation. Somebody who is not Citizen. Is that what you are?"

"What is this Corporation? What is this nation? What is this not Citizen?"

Filer didn't understand. There could not, surely, be a single person on the planet who did not know what Tenkatech was.

"You have a part of me. Why do you have a part of me?"

"What part of you?"

"Unknown growth number. No classification present. Unable to answer."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Wait,"

the voice instructed.

Filer waited.

"Clone trace found. Offshoot of series J-ss-B74208."

She opened her mouth to tell the voice that again, she did not understand, but something struck a chord. That number ...

"The Orgbrain!" she gasped.

It was the serial number of the Orgbrain they had captured and cloned for their experiments on the Softsuit. She had seen that number countless times, on reports and memos and data transcripts.

"You mean the Orgbrain, don't you?"

"You have the part of me that is offshoot of series J-ss-B74208."

"An offshoot? A clone, yes?"

"Yes. Clone trace found."

Filer nodded. "That's right, I do have it."

"Why?"

"I can't answer that," Filer told the voice.

"Why can you not answer that?"

"It's classified information that I have a duty to protect in times of war."

"What is this times of war?"

"Don't play dumb. If you're Tenkatech ..."

"What is this Tenkatech?"

"I can't take that chance."

"Why do you have a part of me?"

the voice repeated.

"Why wouldn't I?" Filer played. "Perhaps I'm Tenkatech, too. Perhaps I'm one of those poor bastards in a Softsuit ..."

Filer stopped in her tracks. She had been jolted by her own train of thought. Her hands gripped reflexively at one of the cold, metal sinks. Stared at her reflection in the mirror above it. Into the dark pit of her own eyes.

"You're a Softsuit, aren't you?" she whispered. Afraid of the answer. Knuckles white.

There was a moment of silence, and then

"What is this Softsuit?"

Filer let out a breath. Nodded slowly. Her reflection smiled. That would explain this voice's confusion. Its lack of knowledge.

"I think you are," she told it. "I think that's exactly what you are. That's why you can hear me, and that's why you think I have a part of you."

"What is this Softsuit?"

the voice said again.

Filer ignored the question. Licked her lips. "Can you tell me where you are?" she asked it.

"Currently, I am operating in 4,895,219 locations. Physically I am located in Silo Taia in Adalin Base. I am the sixth. I am operating as girder for the Nia, Jappa and Milon sections of the Network, supporting 2,328,911 hubs and 2,566,308 conduits. I am present in all of these."

Filer understood none of this. She had never heard of Adalin Base and had no idea what happened there. She could only surmise that it was another secret lab where Softsuits were created.

"Why do you hear me?"

the voice asked again. Unfortunately, it seemed to have as little knowledge as Filer had.

The Colonel, however, was suddenly filled with hope. If this was a Softsuit, a real Softsuit, worn by a person who had contacted her, it would change everything. There might be hope for the Citizens, maybe even for the war.

If this person had fought through Tenkatech's programming, retained a measure of individuality, and reached out from within the Softsuit's confines enough to find Filer ...

She closed her eyes. Swallowed the lump in her throat. They would have hope. Shar would have hope. Everyone would.

"Do you know your name?" Filer asked it. The voice was difficult to discern; it was even hard to establish whether it was male or female.

There was a pause.

"I am the sixth sector. I am Cho Oyu."

"Cho Oyu?" Filer repeated. The name, the regionality of it, was unfamiliar. It sounded neither Citizen nor Tenkatech in origin.

"Cho Oyu,"

confirmed the voice.

"How are you contacting me, Cho Oyu?" Filer asked. "I don't have Network access."

"Why do you hear me?"

Cho Oyu asked.

"I don't know," Filer replied. "That's what I mean."

It seemed their method of communication was a mystery to both of them.

An idea struck Filer.

"You are connected to the Network though, yes?" she asked.

"I operate as girder for Nia, Jappa, and Milon sections of the Network."

"So if I did have Network access ... I could find you? We could meet?"

"What is this meet?"

Cho Oyu enquired.

"Perhaps I could help you," Filer mused aloud, ignoring the voice's confusion. "We could find you. Help you. Perhaps release you from the Softsuit."

"What is this Softsuit?"

Cho Oyu asked again.

"You ... I think you are a prisoner," Filer told it. "You have most likely been captured by Tenkatech and forced to fight against your will."

Cho Oyu was silent.

"I think we are probably able to communicate because we are both implanted with a device called an Orgbrain. The piece of cloned technology you can sense that we share."

"What is this Orgbrain?"

This was going in circles. Clearly, whoever Cho Oyu was, the Softsuit affected his or her ability to reason.

"I will explain to you. You will find out, I promise. You ... you need to stay connected to the Network, all right? You need to stay connected until I can find you."

"I act as girder for the Nia, Jappa, and Milon sections."

"Yes," said Filer, even though she did not know what that meant. "Yes. Stay ... all right? Stay there."

The voice did not reply.

"I'll come for you. Now."

Filer charged out of the bathroom and ran back to Shar's quarters. She hammered on the door with the flat of her hand.

"Sergeant!" she yelled. "Sergeant Shar!"

A splash of light from beneath the door. Footsteps. Shar opened the door wearing her robe. Nothing beneath. Her dark nipples outlined in soft fabric. Filer couldn't keep her eyes from them.

"What's going on?" Shar asked.

"I need a driver," Filer told her.

"What?" Shar stammered. Rubbed her eyes. Pushed her hair back from her face.

"A driver. Who is our duty driver tonight?"

"I ... I don't know, I ... I'd have to look at the shifts ..."

Filer couldn't blame Shar. They rarely needed their duty driver. Very few soldiers had even left the bunker since being assigned here, Filer included.

"Find out. I need a truck in ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?!" Shar gaped. "It's ... it's the middle of the night! Where are you going?"

"You have your orders, Sergeant," Filer snapped. She did not have time to explain. "I will meet you and the driver in the bay in ten minutes. Understood?"

"Y-yes, Colonel," Shar said, flustered.

"Very good, Sergeant."

Filer turned away without another word and marched smartly down the dark corridor, towards her own quarters.

"I'm coming, Cho Oyu," she said. "I'm on my way."

This time, she did not get a reply.

Inside her quarters, she stripped and washed. Just cold water in a basin, but enough to rid her body of the smell of sex and sweat. She smelled disgusting, dirty and hopeless. She smelled of yesterday's defeat. Of Shar's desperation and misery.

Filer dressed in a clean uniform. Retied her hair. Sealed her boots. Put her hat smartly on top of her hair and lifted her jaw when she looked at her reflection.

Yes. That was it. Colonel Sparta Filer. She would not be defeated.

It was quiet inside the vehicle hangar. Even the repair crews had stopped for the night, although a skeleton staff was available to operate the temporary lifting platform they had installed after the attack.

By the shaft, a truck waited for her. Sergeant Shar, pale, tired, her jacket misbuttoned and without her cap, stood talking with Private Fonne.

Filer went to them. Fonne's back stiffened to attention.

"Colonel," he acknowledged.

Shar remained slouched. Her make-up was still smudged from where she had made love to Filer.

"You are tonight's duty driver?" the Colonel asked Fonne.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Then let's go."

Fonne looked from Filer to Shar and then back again. Confused. "Go ... where, Colonel?"

"We'll be heading towards the border."

Fonne nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said again. He turned and slid the truck's door open for his superior officers. Unquestioning.

Good. The last thing Filer wanted right now was more of what she seemed to be getting from Shar: something worried and shifty. Something that didn't trust her Colonel. Something that had compelled the Sergeant to bring a sidearm with her.

Filer eyed it, making sure Shar noticed.

Shar did not react. She took a seat on the opposite troop bench to Filer. Pulled a blanket out from a storage locker and wrapped it around her shoulders. Yawned.

In the truck's cab, Fonne started the engine and signalled the crew in the hangar that they were about to enter the shaft.

Filer silently willed Cho Oyu to hang on. Hoping against hope that he or she would stay connected.

The truck rumbled onto the temporary platform. Gears whined and groaned; the thing pitched a little. Shar gripped the edge of the seat with white fingers. Eyes closed.

The platform stabilised and began to lift them, not as quickly, but as smoothly as the elevator would have done. Shar let out the breath she had been holding.

When they reached the top of the long shaft, Fonne got out to open the doors of the farm building that hid the entrance to the bunker.

Filer moved to the front of the truck to sit in the cab.

Fonne opened the doors. Filer's breath caught. She hadn't thought ... hadn't imagined. She was outside, actually outside her bunker, for the first time in eighteen months.

Here was the sky. The actual sky. Dark blue, with black clouds. The sound of wind. Fonne got back in the truck and they drove on.

In the distance, she saw lights from the closest farm. A small tree, moved by the wind. Bushes, weed, a few bits of rubbish, blown past.

For a moment, Filer had no breath. Nothing at all.

Shar did not look at anything, although she had been underground just as long. She stared at her boots, huddled into the blanket. Filer could see only her green eyes, glinting in the light that, for the first time in a year and a half, was not artificial.

Filer went back to her. Sat beside her.

"Arden?" she whispered.

"Where are we going?" Shar demanded angrily.

"I told you. Towards ..."

"Why?" Shar interrupted. "Why are we going towards enemy territory?"

Filer stiffened. Pulled back. "Oh, so that's it. You think I've turned traitor. You think the Orgbrain has brainwashed me and I've gone over to Tenkatech?"

"I don't know, do I?" Shar exclaimed. "You wake me in the middle of the night. You seem agitated and strange. You demand that I get you a truck and a driver and then you just take us into the middle of nowhere, towards Tenkatech territory! I do it because I trust you, but I have to admit ... that trust is wearing thin. What the hell is going on, Sparta?"

"I need Network access," Filer said.

"Network access? How ..?"

"The Orgbrain. I can t-sync at a Tenkatech Public BusyPoint."

Shar sighed. Looked away. "What's going on?" she asked.

Filer took a breath to reply, but Shar interrupted.

"I know you don't have to explain yourself to me. You're my commanding officer, I know that. But Sparta, after last night ..."

Shar's gaze, strong and green. The emotion in it, the passion ... it sent a ripple of desire through Filer's body despite their situation.

"I was wrong," Filer looked at the floor. Then at Shar's small hand, holding the blanket about herself. "I mean ... I may have been wrong."

Shar lifted her head from the swathes of blanket. "What about?" she asked.

"About the Softsuits, about the people inside them being dead."

Shar's eyes went wide. Big and green and beautiful. Her mouth, the full lips that Filer had kissed, actually kissed, dropped apart. "Seriously?" she asked. As if Filer would say such a thing in jest.

"I think so," Filer replied. "But ... I need to be sure."

Shar nodded. Suddenly excited. Enthusiastic. She sat up and let the blanket fall away. "Where can you get Network access?" she asked.

"Close to Tenkatech territory," Filer told her. "I should be able to pick up one of those BusyPoints."

Shar nodded again. "What ... what do you think you can find on the Network?" she pushed.

Filer shook her head. "I can't say," she told Shar. "I don't want to ..."

"It's okay," Shar reassured her. One of her small white hands came out of the blanket and clasped Filer's. "You don't have to say anything."

A soft, sweet smile on her lips. For a moment, Filer forgot everything. Just memories, dark, sweet memories of Shar's embrace, her cries, her kisses. Her eyes glittering in the dark of their underground prison.

How much she would love to see Shar in daylight. See the colours in her hair, sunlight on her lover's skin and dancing in those big green eyes.

How much she wanted that ...

She squeezed Shar's hand once more and then tucked her subordinate protectively into the folds of warm blanket.

She would have that. She would. She would win the war single-handed to have that, those moments with Shar.

"Get some rest," she whispered. "It hasn't exactly been very peaceful tonight."

Shar managed a weak smile, but she didn't need telling twice. She snuggled back into the warmth of her blanket and shut her eyes, tucking her feet up onto the seat beside her.

Filer left her and returned to the truck's cab. She took the seat beside Fonne.

"DampField on, Colonel?" he asked.

She nodded. "We're not going to be crossing the border, but there's no need to alarm anyone. I'd rather not be watched too closely."

"Yes, Colonel," Fonne agreed. He flipped switches and dimmed lights. Everything that gave off a signal.

Filer's Orgbrain felt the DampField quieten the machines in the truck. She was reminded of something she hadn't heard in years: a theatre audience hushing as the house lights went down.

Immediately, Filer felt a tickle on the back of her neck, an itch in her Mainstem port. She squirmed in her seat and received a quizzical glance from Fonne.

"Stop," she told him, her breath little more than a gasp. "This will be fine."

WELCOME TO TENKATECH
GHOW BUSYPOINT PUBLIC TERMINAL
TAPER POINT: THIN
DRIVE V: RECEIVING
INPUT?

A Network access point. Unmistakeable now, it tugged at the back of her neck, tempting her to connect. For a moment, she felt afraid. How would it be to connect so intimately?

Citizen Network terminals, including the one in her bunker, used Network Lateens, large projection screens to simulate the environment Tenkatech people experienced. They were dull, glitchy, and did not allow for voice interface.

Citizens using the Network were little more than ghosts; they had no avatars and could interact with precious little of the environment.

She took a breath. "Be sure to maintain your position," she told Fonne.

"You're going out there?" he asked. "Colonel, you should have an escort ..."

"No, Private," she corrected. "I'm not leaving the truck. I need you to wait here so I can maintain a Network connection."

"Oh. Yes, ma'am."

She nodded curtly. "Thank you. Sergeant Shar is in charge while I am connected."

"Yes, ma'am," Fonne said again.

She settled back into the seat, hands holding the armrests a little too tightly. She did not know how to do this. How did one connect to the Network?

"Oh!" she heard herself say, and then she no longer existed.

First she was purple, and then she was black. There was a sensation of pulling, a momentary freefall, then she barely had consciousness.

She rippled. Filled with air. Twisted. Arms and legs, belly, breasts, head. Flickered. There and then not there.

Vision.

Sky blue. White bright light. White hubs, white data. White text.

CONNECTED

The Network said.

Filer was there. Really there. Standing inside the Network, with what felt like her actual body. Incredible.

She looked at her hands: they were her own. Every vein, every pore, was perfectly portrayed. Arms, legs, feet. The shape of her body. The tone of her skin.

It was remarkable. Aside from the smoothed-off nipples and genitalia, she looked exactly as she did when naked.

She stood on a hub circled by the words

GHOW BUSYPOINT PUBLIC TERMINAL

What should she do now? She had voice interface now ... was it really that easy?

"I want to be connected to the Nia, Jappa, or Milon sections," she said aloud. Feeling a little foolish.

It worked! In front of her, three white doors appeared. Printed on them:

TENKATECH PUBLIC ACCESS TERMINAL
NIA SECTION

TENKATECH PUBLIC ACCESS TERMINAL
JAPPA SECTION

TENKATECH PUBLIC ACCESS TERMINAL
MILON SECTION

It seemed rather simple. Tentatively, she pushed at the middle door, the one for the Jappa Section. It opened for her. Once again, she was surprised at how real it felt.

The door had proper weight, and its surface felt like painted wood. Gingerly, she stepped off the hub and went through the door.

Inside the room was the customary Tenkatech interface: a simulated woman sitting behind a desk. The nameplate on the desk read

ERI TADA
TENKATECH PUBLIC INFORMATION

There was the murmur of crowd noise. Air conditioning. Windows set high in the walls to let in pale sunshine. All designed to look like a Tenkatech public building.

"Cho Oyu!" she called. Waited. Called again. "Cho Oyu!"

The Tenkatech puppet at the desk did not deviate from her programmed routine. The query did not correspond to any of her subroutines, so she ignored it.

"Cho Oyu, are you here?" Filer called again. "I'm in the Network, the Jappa Section. I need to see you!"

"I have a place,"

said Cho Oyu, in Filer's head.

"Here."

To Filer's right, a door appeared, set into one of the white walls. This time, the door was old and wooden, with flaking paint. Not at all in keeping with the minimalist surroundings. A doormat and slippers rested beneath it. The top half was a glass panel, through which Filer could see a garden, verdant and rich with summer flowers.

She understood at once what this was. It was a back door. Cho Oyu had given her a backdoor into a Tenkatech Network sector.

She turned the rough handle, and the door opened, outwards into the garden. The scent of fresh cut grass, flowers and fresh air washed over her, utterly intoxicating. It had been so long since Filer had been around anything green.

For a moment, she couldn't move. She was overwhelmed. It felt like a perfect summer's day. Heat on her skin. Breeze through the apple trees.

Hot tears rushed to her eyes. It was the scent of home and family, of the time when she had lived her life and not merely survived.

"Cho Oyu, are you here?" she asked.

"Yes,"

said the voice, still in her head.

Filer walked on, down the narrow path of the garden. She pushed through tall hollyhocks. Wind ruffled her hair. Seeds and petals drifted on the breeze. Almost slow motion. At the bottom of the garden, the path led to a copse, thick with trees.

It smelled woody and rich. Earthy. Mysterious. Filer inhaled great lungfuls of it, drinking the taste of it. Her mouth watered. Tears rolled down her face. It was beautiful. So beautiful. A dream, like so many she had dreamed in her dank underground bunker.

Suddenly, ahead of her, in the trees, there was light. White light, not sunlight. Something else.

Filer went towards it. It grew brighter. Tendrils of it lapped at the treetrunks, sparkled on twigs, ethereal and strange.

The trees parted about the light. Filer went towards it. Stepped into it.

Yes.

Cho Oyu was here. This was Cho Oyu, and Cho Oyu was not a Softsuit.

Oh, no. Cho Oyu was something far, far better.


CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 20 ...


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