Gunmetal Dark
By Angelina Vansen


RATING: NC-17 (not really in this part, however)
CODES: Uber J/7
SUMMARY: We return to the story of Kaine Sigg (Janeway), who is currently being held captive by Colonel Filer. However, you'd probably enjoy this more if you started from the beginning!


8.

Late at night, hidden from the security panel under the blankets on the bed, Kaine decided it was time to act. She pretended to roll in her sleep, worming her hand under her pillow to clutch the flat, plastic square she had stolen from the lab.

The nanokit.

She held it, breathless. Tongue biting into her lip. Listening for footsteps, listening for anything.

She heard nothing. Only the crackle of the lights cooling, the shift of water and air in the pipes to her sink and toilet. The churn of generators somewhere in the complex.

The tickle of the

HOST

and

GUEST

computer against her numb port.

She rolled onto her side and brought her hand beside her, creating a tent of blanket she could work beneath. Forced to work by touch alone, her fingers groped for the opening on the tiny plastic case.

She got her nails into the seam and it popped apart.

This would not be easy. The nanokit was one of at least a dozen tools she needed to perform this procedure, and it wasn't a particularly sophisticated example of its type.

She had no scanning device, no power testers, no direct way of communicating with the kit while it was inside her, working on her Augbrain. She would be doing this on skill alone.

Inside the case lay several small squares of plastic film, tacky on the undersides to make them easier to hold. She plucked one out between skittish fingertips.

This was the nanokit. Placed on a mucous membrane like the tongue, the plastic would dissolve, and the microscopic machines inside would absorb into the body. From there, they were programmed to identify and repair any problems they found within the host's augmentations.

She held the film for a moment, heart pounding. Gathering her will. This was normally done under sedation, and never by the subject herself. This was probably insane.

She squeezed her eyes shut and slapped the film on her tongue before she lost her nerve. She clapped her hand over her mouth and clamped her teeth shut; determined prevent herself spitting it out.

It began to dissolve immediately. She bit her lip and waited.

White cold inside her mouth, chilling but not unpleasant. The sensation began to travel with her heartbeat, branching and spreading through veins and capillaries. Head and neck. Arms and legs. To the tips of her fingers and down to her toes. In her throat, in her chest. In the pit of her stomach.

Her blood carried the nanokit throughout her body and Kaine felt like a million buzzing bits of metal, every one connected to each other. Every one chatting, blurting binary.

She breathed in, then let it out. Her mouth tasted like sweet copper. Her vision blurred and swayed. Up and down meant nothing and the bed swung back and forth.

She was losing herself and the world was a smear. She closed her eyes and forced herself to focus on the nanokit, on listening to it work. It clustered around her ports and implants like frost, chittering and buzzing. Inside her Augbrain, it felt thick and furry, bloated with errors.

Negative signals passed between the parts of it, too many to count and she had nothing to read them. It was like listening to a crowd of people, all whispering "no" again and again in another room.

Kaine felt dizzy and nauseous and her head throbbed madly.

Then, just beneath her left temple, something clicked. It fluttered, stuttered and came to life with a burst of green static.

POWER REROUTED

Her Augbrain! Speaking to her. Its comforting green voice filled her mind, its presence running through her body.

Checking her, checking her health. Interfacing with her ports and implants, a million sensations she had taken for granted only days ago felt new and beautiful.

She had done it.

The nanokit terminated its diagnostic and repair cycle, the fizzing sensation in her blood abating. Kaine lay panting and nauseous under the blanket, the darkness punctuated by bursts of befuddled green static.

Tentatively, she requested a diagnostic from the Augbrain itself, hoping against hope that the nanokit had been able to perform significant repairs.

She was, however, disappointed. The quickscan results showed that little more than a third of her Augbrain was powered and functional; the rest was a burnt, useless shell.

Kaine's head was filled with error messages.

ERROR IN SYSTEM F-654J: NO POWER
ERROR IN SYSTEM K-991N: NO RESPONSE FROM UNIT
ERROR IN COMPONENT TANNA-L-FIIN: OFFLINE
ERROR IN SYSTEM 7-HHY6: NO POWER

But her Augbrain was there. The chronometer told her that the time was 00:14:53, her ports were powered, and she could t-sync.

She had a shot at connecting to the Network.

Outside, the

HOST

and

GUEST

computer beckoned, a brace of ports open for connection. Now she could read its signal properly, she could hear its signature, feel the shape and size of it.

It was actually two computers, Siamese-syncing to double their power. One, the part that identified itself as

TRUESTAR A

was responsible for the internal computers of the base, updating and maintaining them, handling security and lighting and heating.

Compared to its brother,

TRUESTAR B

however, it was rudimentary.

This was where the real power lay. A huge Network infiltration system, undetectable and enormous, it was sitting here, right on the border of Tenkatech territory.

With just a brush of her open ports, Kaine felt the thick branches of data it drew in for analysis.

Unbelievable. Kaine had no idea that the Citizens were capable of anything this sophisticated. With a computer like this, Colonel Filer was probably running a huge e-operation from this base, designed to discover Tenkatech's military secrets.

This, she surmised, was how they had found her. A terrifying thought. She had always felt perfectly safe connected to the Network; Tenkatech's t-sync security was supposed to be second to none.

Someone needed to warn them. Nothing at the base where she had lived and worked was secure. It had cost Timon his life.

Truestar B beckoned to her, no longer the faint tickle she had felt in her port, but huge and magnetic. Pulsing, powerful, bending the Network around itself like a black hole.

She readied her Mainstem port, disguising her connection as something low level, something maintenance. She would be little more than a thread, hidden inside the enormous electro mass that was Truestar B itself.

Colonel Filer had been right. When it came to the Network, Kaine was a dangerous woman. She had programs installed on her Augbrain that the Citizens couldn't hope to see. She knew everything there was to know about t-sync connections. There was no way she would be detected.

TRUESTAR B
PORT 44-PHELPS
DRIVE N: RECEIVING
INPUT?

Kaine's thread pushed inside, needling through the password protection, shooting out little barbs of virus to halt the installed trackers.

Subtle, gentle. She crept inside a little at a time, tasting the way Truestar B felt inside; an enormous vault of black power that smelled earthy, rich and oily.

She heard it too; things spoke inside, programs in place to guess passwords and strings. They sounded like big ringing mouths speaking tentatively, making the sound of each vowel, each consonant.

This was how passwords were hacked, a sound at a time, one needle making the sound and another deep in the system, listening for a resonance. It was painstaking task, even for something as powerful as Truestar B. Most Tenkatech systems cycled their passwords every fifteen minutes. They had to get really lucky.

Kaine had never before been inside a computer designed for hacking. It was an eerie sound: droning, singing, an electronic choir. Something about it disturbed her.

Little by little, she allowed her consciousness to seep inside, fed through the thread from her Mainstem port. Arms filled out, followed by legs, chest, neck, stomach. Finally her vision snapped into place and she stood right in the middle of Truestar B's default environment.

It was a field at night, a wide midnight sky peppered with stars. A warm summer wind blew through, waving the long grass around her legs as she looked about.

Acacia trees stood dark on the horizon, their branches also swaying in the wind. It was the trees that made the sounds; windchimes were hanging from their branches, long bamboo pipes that whistled and sang the password sounds. A nice touch, Kaine thought. Clever.

She took a breath, breathing sweet summer air that tasted of grass and earth. Everything felt right. She could not believe she had done it.

She was little more than a ghost here, a ghost hiding in a ghost computer. Even looking down at her body, she saw only a shadow. She did not ruffle the grass when she moved.

She slipped silently through the environment, searching for a way to access the Network itself.

A sudden pain in her head interrupted her, a sharp sting that flared from her Mainstem to each temple, circling her eyes. Her vision waned and blurred, blue lines travelling from left to right.

Kaine stopped in her tracks, sending a quick, desperate message through her Augbrain, asking for analysis.

TEMPORARY CONNECTION LOSS

reported her Augbrain.

FAULT IN MAINSTEM RECEIVER
REPORT #7BB611
LOGGED

Not good. She gritted her teeth against a nausea-inducing spin in her vision and drifted on through the grass.

She did not know if her connection would hold long; she had clearly placed too much stress on the port while two thirds of her Augbrain lay dead and useless behind it.

It was a strange sensation, half her mind pushing her through the sweet evening grass and the other half lying under the blankets in her cell.

She reached out to grasp a handful of grass and realised she was holding a sheet.

Then, ahead of her in a small earthy clearing in the grass, was the main Network Access point.

It had been designed to look like a rabbit warren, a hole dug in the earth that seemed to lead underground.

Another clever touch; even in her dizzied state, Kaine enjoyed the design employed here. Too many scientists waiting around for Truestar B to hack into something vital, she thought. Nothing better to do than redesign the environment.

Fireflies buzzed pretty and yellow around it, adding an air of magic to the whole scene. Sure, it was trite, probably made by someone missing their children, but in Kaine's half-connected state it looked like something mystical. The promised land.

She bit her tongue and concentrated, forcing herself to duck down and crawl. It was becoming hard to focus on which body she was moving.

Her virtual body slithered through the loose earth of the tunnel without disturbing so much as a stone. She was a light breeze blowing. She was a phantom in the darkness.

The last metre was steep, and keeping her balance was impossible. Kaine tumbled out in a tangle of limbs, dizzy and disoriented.

Black static pulsed through her brain and her stomach pounded. In the real world her body sweated and shook. In the Network she lay spread on her back on a hub, and nothing was right.

She tried to focus but everything was swimming. The blue of the Network crackled and warped, hubs blinking and winking in the distance as her connection wavered.

She forced herself up, concentrating on each limb individually, willing it to work. She needed help. She had to find someone, let them know what had happened to her, where she was.

But who would be t-syncing this late? She could be fishing for hours looking for someone connected recreationally. She needed to log in to Tenkatech, access her personal office and leave a message.

Her lab assistants maybe, one of her colleagues. Maybe Timon's second-in-command, Alvaro. If they knew where she was, they would come for her. She was sure of it.

Summoning all her strength she called out to the Network.

"Tenkatech user access!" she demanded. "Personal Office, user ksigg."

She bit her lip, forcing her password out through her port. Her head split with the pain of it; every sound vibrated agonisingly. Back in the real world, she tasted blood in her mouth.

It wouldn't take long. She willed herself through, concentrating on the door to her Personal Office as it materialised on the edge of the hub.

Just one message. Tell Alvaro what had happened, send him coordinates. He would get it in the morning, assemble a rescue operation. Everything would be okay.

They would shut down Truestar B and Colonel Filer's entire operation. They would take her home, back to the base and her lab and her work. They might be able to work on her Augbrain, repair her some more.

She could continue work on Timon in her own lab, and everything would be okay.

Everything.

She staggered up, her whole body warped and thin and barely able to support itself. She pushed the door and her arms folded back on themselves, useless. It took her three desperate tries to open it.

It was getting worse. She could feel her body giving up, shutting down. Fear alone pushed her through the heavy door.

Her Personal Office, warm, welcoming and familiar. Kaine stumbled over her rubbery feet and fell face-first onto the thick beige carpet, reverberating with that dull garbage feeling that represented pain in the Network.

Gasping, managing to roll onto her back, she called "Tenkapaper!" to the Network, opening the messaging program.

The interface floated above her, white and perfect in the fuzz of static.

"Send message," she instructed. The interface thought for a moment, nothing happening.

UNABLE TO OPEN

it said.

INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH

"No!" she shouted at it, already knowing that it wouldn't make a difference. "I'm here, I'm connected! Send message!"

INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH

it repeated.

Kaine could have cried. She was so close. Absolute despair washed over her, a black, hideous feeling she detested. The certainty that she was going to die at Colonel Filer's hands was just about the worst thing she could imagine.

Lying on the floor of her Personal Office, Kaine stared at the warped, static-filled remnants of her old life. They crackled and bulged, lights flickering, objects losing their shape and colour. The only perfect thing was the Tenkapaper interface, a flawless square of white afloat above her. Taunting her.

Her Inbox was highlighted, red with a new message from a new contact.

She focused on it, and it opened.

INBOX MSG #A00078
TENKAUSER: johnnymatei
SUBJECT: Message from Mia

Her brow wrinkled. Who was Mia? Who was johnnymatei? She didn't know, but she got a lot of messages from academics asking questions about her research.

The message came to life before her, the interface unfolding like a scroll of paper and then becoming a screen.

To her surprise, it had been recorded right here in her office this morning. Surely she had been declared missing by now?

The face of a young boy popped up on the screen, a pasty, dark-haired boy no older than fifteen. He spoke, looking agitated.

"This is a message for Doctor Kaine Sigg," he said. "It's from Mia. She was here a minute ago but she's just lost her connection and she hasn't come back. She's looking for you. She says she needs to find you because if she doesn't, she'll die. She told me that she is trapped in a suit of armour that is going to self-destruct and she needs you to tell her how to get out of it."

The boy paused as if collating his thoughts. "I'm sorry, that's all know. I hope you find her. Uh ... goodbye."

The message finished, the screen on the interface blanking back to white. Kaine stared at it for a long moment, her head swimming. She did not understand. Not only was the boy, this Johnny Matei, a complete stranger to her, but ... Mia? Who? She had to get out of what?

Kaine's head spun and throbbed. She didn't have time for this. She needed to get connected, send that message, be rescued.

"Send message," she called to the interface again. Her voice distant and tinny.

INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH

flickered up, white, in front of her. Every letter blurring and then snapping sharp. Warping and straightening.

She could barely focus. She was hardly connected. Beneath her was the hard floor of her Personal Office, above her was the sheet on the bed in her cell. She couldn't stand, she couldn't move. What was she going to do?

"Send message!" she cried again. Hoping against hope.

INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH

she was told again. She tried again and again, her voice getting quieter, further away. Echoing in a room that wasn't there.

The error messages scrolled in front of her.

INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH
INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH
INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH
INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH
USER mia223939 PRESENT IN THIS SPACE
INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH
VIEW AVATAR?
INSUFFICIENT CONNECTION STRENGTH

It took her a moment to notice the query hidden amongst the errors. She could barely read them for the static.

Another user in her Personal Office. User mia223939. Was this Mia from the message the young boy had sent? It didn't matter. Someone else was here, someone who could send a message, save her.

"View avatar!" she called, almost weeping with joy.

A woman, standing above her. Looking down at her. In Kaine's hazy, useless vision, she seemed celestial, her blonde hair framed by a halo of electric light. Blue eyes. Full pink lips. An intense stare that felt like a scan.

"Are you Kaine Sigg?" the woman demanded. Her avatar was naked.

"Yes," Kaine confirmed, her voice husky and electronic. "You're Mia?"

"Yes," the woman echoed. Her voice shook, but Kaine didn't know if it was emotion or just her own connection wavering.

The woman looked pleased. Relieved. She held out a hand to Kaine, as if offering to help her up from the carpet. "You will save me," she told her.

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 9


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