Gunmetal Dark
by Angelina Vansen (angelina@gunmetaldark.com)

RATING: NC-17 overall. This part? Still only a PG-13 for mild violence.
CODES: J/7 uber
SUMMARY: Chapter two of my sci-fi uber. Since this part is separate and distinct from chapter one, it's not strictly necessary to have read it in order to enjoy this one. But if you fancy it, find it here.

2.

Kaine woke up and there was something on her head. Small and heavy, it bore down on her temple, irritating her out of a deep sleep. She grunted and wriggled, trying to shrug it off.

It got heavier. Pressed harder.

"Wake up," said a voice.

She opened her eyes; it was still dark and she was on her side. Still in bed in the room at the Hacienda next to Timon, still naked.

She tried to roll over but was shoved by that thing on her head, pressed back down against her pillow with some force.

That woke her up properly. It was a gun. A gun against her head.

"What ..." she gasped, and then she was pulled out of bed by her hair.

She screamed once as her very naked flesh was grasped and restrained by someone tall and strong. She felt his armour against her back, his gloved hands on her belly and hips. He was a soldier, one of theirs.

He shoved her from behind and she fell to her knees, the gun going back against her head as soon as she hit the floor. It pressed her down low; she saw nothing but bed and carpet as she knelt there, shaking with adrenalin.

There was more than one of them, though. She heard several pairs of boots above the sound of her pounding heart.

Across the room, she heard them grab Timon, too. He cursed and shouted as they pulled him out of the bed and then there was a thud as they slammed him against the wall and told him to shut up. He did.

Thank God. He wasn't going to be stupid, play the hero and try to reach his own gun. As stunned as she was, Kaine knew she did not want to die like this. Not as the Other Woman, found naked with her brains splattered all over a motel room with the very celebrated, very married base commander General Timon Menendez. Maybe if they cooperated they would have a chance.

"What do you want with me?" she heard him ask. His voice was clear and steady, his training taking over.

Kaine wished she was as good at faking calm. She was still shaking, dangerously close to tears.

Timon got no reply from their assailants. They were busy securing the room. Kaine watched their black boots moving in her peripheral vision. One by the window; two by the door. One behind her with the gun and at least another holding Timon. Five or six of them; not a small operation with their troops spread so thin these days.

Timon was a big prize, though. His capture or murder would change a lot.

"Secure," said one of the soldiers, his voice clipped and low.

"Scan her," said another.

Unceremoniously, Kaine was pulled to her feet again, and a soldier, face obscured by camouflage paint, came towards her with one of those thick comsets their troops carried. Expressionless, he moved it up and down her body.

He was looking for her dogplant, she realised, trying to identify her.

"Confirmed," he said. "Sigg, Doctor Kaine. Current assignment designated as classified."

The other one nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Check her for open ports. Any t-sync connections at all ... be thorough."

Kaine was surprised. Surprised they knew who she was, for one. But also that they thought she was stupid enough to be t-syncing while having illicit sex off-base with a high ranking General.

They scanned her again, found nothing. Checked the scans to be sure.

"Okay," said the one who seemed to be in charge. "Fry her."

Cold terror washed over her in a wave; she'd heard they did this to people they captured, though she hadn't believed it. She knew they were uncivilised and desperate and keen to get any advantage they could, but she hadn't thought them capable of this. It was a war crime.

"No," she said, desperate. "Listen to me, you don't want to do that, you don't. I'm ..."

"Shut up," said the one behind her calmly.

Now she didn't care about the guns, or anything else. She struggled with the one who held her, twisting and kicking in his grip. She managed to dig her nails into the bare skin of his forearm, felt him flinch and heard him wince.

He cursed and grabbed her angrily, threw her face down on the bed and jammed a knee into her back, knocking the wind out of her. That hurt. She heard herself groan, trying to pant through the stars she saw.

Pinned to the bed, she could hear them behind her, preparing something. She panted wildly, wild-eyed and desperate. They were going to fry her. Fry her! She wanted to scream, make someone hear, make someone save her.

Pressed as she was with her face into the mattress, she could do little more than whimper.

Then she felt the one on her back lifting her hair away from her neck, exposing her Mainstem Physical Port. She knew they were really going to do it. It was a violation of her human rights to even touch that.

Something cold scraped her port and was pushed inside. Inside her head, the green core of her Augbrain woke, reported violation.

ERROR CODE: QIKON-PANIC

Then she was fried. Electricity jammed through her, white fire that arced and screamed and screamed again, ripping every muscle and synapse and jolting every bone. She was spasming, teeth jammed together, mouth foaming. Somewhere behind this white sheet of pain she was aware that she had lost control of her bladder.

She saw green stars that slowly turned black. Then the pain stopped and everything was tiny. Everything was a breath, her own. In, slowly, sucked through her aching teeth, filling her with white light. Then out, through her flaccid mouth that hurt and tasted slightly of the burnt iron of her blood.

She couldn't even make a sound. She couldn't move either, and the man on her back got off. He didn't need to hold her down now.

She heard them talking somewhere in the distance, in the world she used to care about, scanning Timon.

"Military hardwire ports only," she heard one of them say dismissively.

Strange, she thought they would have known that. Strange how they had paid so much attention to her, too, knowing her name and making sure she was network-secure and frying her for good measure.

Not that it mattered; she was just happy not to have to move. Every part of her felt heavy and throbbed with residual pain.

"Secure stations," said someone.

"Secure," said the others in unison.

"Go!" she heard.

A flurry of movement around her and the world went dark as she was covered in a blanket and picked up bodily, thrown over someone's shoulder. They ran and she flopped uselessly, thinking she should cry out but not being able to.

Seconds later she was thrown, hard, onto something that felt metal and cold. The blanket was still covering her and she saw nothing.

"Get in!" someone barked urgently.

Footsteps beside her, but they didn't sound booted. Timon. Relief filled her; at least they weren't going to be separated.

The slamming of doors, the muffled sounds of movement around her and then the jolt and bang of an engine. A poorly maintained one, by the sound of it. It groaned in protest as they started moving, fast. Kaine's paralysed body rolled across the floor, loosening the blanket a little so she could at least see something.

They were in the back of a vehicle, one of those big dirty ones their enemy, the Citizens, used around the towns and to harass the outlying farms.

It was designed as a troop carrier but right now only she and Timon were in the back.

Timon sat stiff and upright, struggling with his wrists, which were bound behind his back. She saw him strain hard, then relax and curse.

He looked calm, military and noble despite the fact that he was buck naked and restrained. He looked around him with the clear precise gaze of a soldier and commander, looking for escape routes, weaknesses, something to cut his bindings? She didn't know, but whatever it was, it comforted her. He would get them out of this.

Finally, her throat made a noise. Little more than a hoarse cry, but it escaped her in a big joyous rush and made Timon turn to look at her.

"Kaine!" he whispered.

She blinked at him and made a small noise.

He shuffled over to her and dragged the blanket off her with his foot.

"Are you all right?" he hissed urgently.

She managed a small nod this time, although she really wasn't all right.

"Bastards," he said. "What the hell do they want with you?"

With her? She screwed up her forehead to show him she didn't understand.

"They didn't even scan my dogplant," he went on. "I don't think they know who I am."

This was news to Kaine. She struggled and managed to raise her head a little. Her motor control was starting to come back in big, painful pulses. She groaned.

"Take it easy!" he warned. He shuffled so that he was sat behind her, giving her something solid to lean on as she pulled herself upright.

"Oh God ..." she moaned. Her head pounded in agony. She laid her head against Timon's warm shoulder until she could see again.

"Are you ... have you been ... disconnected?" he asked tentatively.

Inside her, she flicked the mental switch that would normally give her access to her Augbrain and, beyond there, the network. Nothing. A couple of idiot signals that felt like distress.

She let out a breath. "They fried me good," she told him, with more humour than she felt.

"Bastards," Timon said again.

"They'll never get past the border," she whispered to him. "The checkpoint ..."

"Are you kidding?" Timon snorted. "At this time of night, they'll probably be waved straight through."

She fell quiet as the implications of that sank in. They were going over the border into what was essentially enemy territory. For the first time in the ten years since the war started, she was going into the Free Zone.

"We've got to get out of here," she said, feeling the panic rise in her.

"I know," said Timon.

The vehicle slowed and then stopped, and from the front of the cab they could hear genial voices. Laughter. The checkpoint.

"Make some noise," Timon told her urgently.

They both started shouting at the tops of their voices, yelling for help. Timon got up and kicked the metal walls of the vehicle with his bare feet.

No good. They could hear music, possibly from the cab, possibly from the border guards' lodge, and it was loud and drowned them out.

The vehicle jerked and moved on. Timon swore and sat back down.

"What now?" Kaine said.

Timon didn't reply.

The vehicle raced on, increasing speed across the clear, dusty roads that were the outskirts of the Free Zone.

"Where do you think they're taking us?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know. No bases this close to the border. Safe house maybe."

She started to protest, wanting to say how stupid that would be, how unlikely it was that they could create a net-secure environment in a Free Zone house, but then she remembered she was fried.

She would not be able to make a wireless t-sync connection to the network again, not without major surgery.

She felt sick.

"How long before you think they'll notice we're missing?" she asked, needing at least the comfort of a little hope.

"What time were you due in at work?" he asked heavily.

"Eight," she told him.

"I had a fleet inspection at oh-five," he said. "So unless you had another assignation scheduled after you left me, that's when it'll start."

One thing was certain, though neither of them had mentioned it. Their affair, so carefully hidden for almost two years, was about to be exposed.

She sat in silence for a while, trying to digest that. Even if they were found and rescued, even if her Augbrain were somehow restored, everything was still going to change.

Perhaps Timon was thinking the same thing; he was quiet too. Not touching her either, though he was sitting close enough for her to feel the warmth of his skin.

He was probably thinking of his wife, a field nurse assigned somewhere on one of the moons. How would she find out? Would the military shield her from the facts surrounding his kidnap? Or would she be given files, access to investigation data? Would she realise that the slight, redheaded scientist she had briefly spoken with at a base reception last year had been sharing her husband's bed twice a week?

That was too awful to think about. More awful even than their current predicament, somehow more real. It had been one of her biggest fears.

Abruptly, the vehicle slowed again. She and Timon exchanged wide-eyed looks.

It stopped for a moment, engine running, waiting for something?

Then it moved forward slowly, into something that made the engine sound metallic and echo. A couple of clanks, and the engine stopped totally.

Unconsciously, she shifted closer to Timon, touching him.

"Are we in a ship?" she asked him.

His brow creased, trying to listen for any clues. "Could be," he said.

But then their bellies lurched with the sensation of falling.

"Elevator," Timon said breathlessly.

"Elevator?" she repeated. That must be a big elevator.

They continued to drop, at speed.

"A deep one," Timon concluded.

Abruptly, it stopped with a deep metallic thud. The engine started again and they drove forward a few metres before stopping again.

"Where the hell are we?" she asked.

"I don't know," Timon replied. Kaine's heart sank. He was privy to all the latest intelligence. If he didn't know, nor did anyone. How would they be rescued?

Wherever they were, it was their destination. They heard the doors of the cab open at the front of the vehicle and the boots of their kidnappers as they jumped out. Kaine stiffened and grabbed Timon's arm, digging nails into him.

"Cooperate," he whispered to her. "Okay? Our people will find us. We just have to survive till they do."

She nodded, once. Eyes fixed on the back doors of the vehicle.

They were flung open and light flooded in, bright artificial light that hurt her eyes. Guns pointed at them from beyond the doors.

"Get out," they were told.

"She can't walk," Timon said, although she wasn't sure that was strictly true.

"Mackman!" the same voice barked.

One of the soldiers jumped up into the back of the vehicle and for the first time, she got a good look at their attackers. He was dressed in the muted colours of the Free Zone Citizen Army, with the soft edged matt black armour on his chest. His dark camouflage make-up was the kind they wore for night operations.

He pulled her up, holding her easily with his arm encircling her waist. He hoisted her high on his body so her feet didn't touch the floor, and carried her bodily out of the vehicle. Timon followed after, mutely looking around him.

They were in a bay, a vehicle hangar, though at present theirs was the only vehicle in it. The walls were blank and drab and a little dirty, and all around the floor were tools.

Kaine saw no computers, no network points at all, but here in a vehicle hangar belonging to the Free Zone that might not be unusual. She knew the Citizens did not rely so heavily on the network.

They were taken out of there almost at once, Kaine being carried and Timon with a gun to his back. Outside lay a dull corridor, not much taller than the average man.

They passed several doors, all metal and closed. They were all labelled

HOST

or

GUEST

and numbered. They moved swiftly past them, but Kaine could hear. A computer. Access points to the network. She could sense the buzz of it, even though she was no longer able to t-sync with it. It was there.

How the Free Zone kept this hidden from their surveillance, she didn't know. So physically close to the base where she worked as well; it had taken them less than an hour to get here.

Just being on the network with a reasonably high-end Augbrain like hers should have meant she could sense a system this big, inputting. Someone should have.

That was worrying. The Citizens could do things they weren't supposed to be able to.

At the end of the corridor, they were escorted into a room, a plain room with a bed, a sink and a toilet. Timon was nudged inside with the barrel of a gun. The soldier who carried Kaine dropped her. Surprisingly, her feet caught her and held her upright, though she rocked unsteadily for a few seconds. Timon moved to her side and she held on to him for support.

"Wait here," ordered the soldier who had seemed to be in charge.

"What for?" Timon asked at once.

"The Colonel," was the enigmatic answer. The soldiers started to withdraw, setting the electronic locks on the other side of the door.

"Wait," Timon demanded. "At least untie me, hey? I'm not going anywhere."

The leader thought for a second, then nodded to one of the soldiers, who bent to pull a knife from his boot and proceeded to cut the plastic bindings around Timon's wrists.

"Thanks," he said, massaging the life back into them. "Any chance of any clothes?"

The leader let out a small laugh as they left. "Clothes are on the chair," he said.

They slammed the door and there were three bleeps as the lock activated. Three lights glowed blue on the panel to the left of it.

Timon turned immediately to Kaine, putting his arm around her and helping her move to the small bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"Getting better," she reassured him. She sat down on the surprisingly soft bedcovers as she took in their surroundings for the first time.

For a prison, it wasn't too bad. She knew people who lived on base who had worse. Although the walls were plain and the floor was cold, it was clean, dry and well-lit. The bed was too small for two people, but it felt soft and the covers were quilted and warm. They had a table and two chairs and even some paper books to read.

Timon was by one of the chairs, sorting through the pile of towels and clothes they had been left. Here, too, their captors seemed to have been generous. Underwear, socks, vests, trousers each and a shirt, all in the muted colours that were the fashion in the Free Zone. Underneath the chair were two black, polished pairs of boots.

He handed her the smaller set, looking as surprised as she was.

"Looks like they plan to keep us alive," he said.

"Mmmm," she agreed, just as she noticed the small surveillance panel mounted above the door.

She nodded towards it, and Timon followed her gaze.

"I guess that's the wild sex out then," he quipped.

"Don't joke about it," she sighed. "Everybody knows, Timon. Or they will."

He looked at the floor. "I know," he said in a small voice. "Let's get dressed, huh? Who knows what is the least of our worries right now."

She nodded silently, and he helped her back up. She limped to the low, ceramic sink first, needing to wash herself. She felt filthy and sticky and the mere act of cleansing herself made her feel a little more human.

She dressed slowly, having to force her heavy, aching limbs through sleeves and legs and her numb, clumsy fingers to fasten the buttons and lace the boots. By the time she finished, she was exhausted.

Her head span and she was forced to lie back on the bed, breathing hard. She started to wonder if she would ever feel normal, if the frying had caused her some kind of permanent damage. She didn't think she could live in this weakened state for the rest of her life. It was bad enough without her Augbrain.

Always the soldier, Timon was up and looking around the room. Examining everything. He got close to the door and went to look at the lock panel. The three lights changed colour as he got close, and it bleeped.

Fascinated, he peered closer and reached out to it.

"I wouldn't touch that," she warned him.

Too late. It sparked and zapped him, a flash of white light arcing out from one of the nodes.

He leapt back and swore, cradling his injured hand.

He grinned at her, with embarrassment. "Yeah, stupid," he acknowledged.

She managed a weak smile, and he came back to her, a look of concern on his dark face. "Are you okay?" he asked her again.

"I will be," she reassured him.

He nodded. "You need rest," he instructed.

She agreed. "What time do you think it is?" she asked him.

He shrugged. The one thing they hadn't been provided with was a clock. "Early hours maybe?" he surmised. "I guess we're waiting for this Colonel to wake up."

Kaine swallowed. She had no idea what to expect when that happened. Was it to be torture? Execution?

"You should try and sleep yourself," he told her. "If the opportunity to escape presented itself, you'd need to be able to run."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he told her. He sat down on one of the chairs. "I'll keep watch."

She nodded, but didn't ask him what exactly he was keeping watch over, or what he planned to do if something happened. Perhaps he needed to have some soldierly duty to keep himself focussed.

She watched him, concentrating on his form before her as she started to feel sleep take her. His dark hair, his strong profile. His broad back, straight against the back of the chair. Watching over her, taking care of her. Guarding her.

He swam and blurred and whited and faded into a distant point of nothing as she let herself fall into sleep.

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER THREE!


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