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Authors: Sam Kepfield
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books, and discussing them with her, on the theory that actually reading printed words made for better absorption of the material than a simple download. They were in the middle of Watership Down , one of Kelly’s childhood favorites, when Crane interrupted them.
Crane had explained to Maria it as a big game, like hide-and-seek or kick the can. Maria didn’t ask why, but accepted it as part of her growing experiences. Kelly had the feeling that Maria knew and suspected far more than she was letting on.
The soldiers piled into Humvees and sped off to their rally points in a cloud of dust. Crane talked with Danner and two other officers with black stars sewn onto their BDUs. A vulpine intelligence nestled behind that blonde hair and blue eyes, a cold mind that saw only numbers on an after-action report, not broken bodies pouring lifeblood onto the slick floor of a Humvee.
“I don’t trust her,” Kelly said to Franklin, nodding to indicate Danner. “She’s a stone cold bitch.”
Franklin looked at her, surprised. “You were expecting maybe Glinda the Good Witch? A woman doesn’t get those oak leaves on her collar unless she’s a stone cold bitch.”
“I should have fucking known this,” Kelly spat out the words. “How could you not turn something like this over to the military?” And how did you miss it? She let the accusation hang in the dry air.
“That all assumes the exercise goes as planned,” Franklin said out of the side of his mouth. Kelly looked at him for an answer, but got none.
After fifteen minutes, radios crackled and the soldiers reported they were in position. All eyes turned to Maria, still holding Kelly’s hand.
“Are you ready?” Kelly asked. Maria nodded. “Be careful,” she said and gave her a hug.
“I will,” said Maria, and was off, hesitating and stutter-stepping at first, but then jogging away from the clearing, and heading into a stand of piñon trees.
“She’s created from human tissues,” Crane explained to the officers clustered around Danner. “The nanos took the tissues and replicated them, gave her perfect muscle tone, world-class athlete. No lactic acid to cause cramps, and her respiration is engineered to be low. Reflexes are human-plus.”
“She’s programmed only to evade and elude?” one of the generals, a tall hawk-faced man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair asked.
“Right,” Crane said confidently.
“The BDUs she’s wearing have sensors on them,” Danner said. “Same with Alpha Company. The M4s are modified. They don’t use the 7.62 NATO rounds; they’re equipped with a small laser. When it strikes a sensor, the information is relayed back here, and we determine the nature of the hit — minor, major or lethal.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kelly caught a ghost of a smile on Franklin’s face.
Running set her free, Maria thought, the ghost of a memory licking at her ( somewhere with a crowd along a road cheering her on ), legs effortlessly pistoning, picking up speed as she sprinted across the rocky terrain, hopping over rocks and bounding over fallen trees. Her breaths — she needed oxygen-nitrogen to fuel herself — were slow, deep and deliberate; her ponytailed hair flew behind her as she ran. The sky overhead was clear azure, no clouds, the land beginning to bloom from its winter slumber. Birdsong around her — pretty . Goal ten miles away, with the fifty men in wait for her — hunting me , she thought. She headed into the tree line, ducking and weaving among the piñons, startling small animals as her boots crunched the underbrush —
Off to the right, a small sound inaudible to human ears but she heard it clearly, the soft rub click of a metal switch (safety switch) — ambush. She skidded to a halt, went hard right as the three camouflaged figures rose from behind a fallen tree. She ducked as the whine of the lasers sounded ( rush into ambush, don’t run away from it ) closing the distance with unnatural speed and
Crane had explained to Maria it as a big game, like hide-and-seek or kick the can. Maria didn’t ask why, but accepted it as part of her growing experiences. Kelly had the feeling that Maria knew and suspected far more than she was letting on.
The soldiers piled into Humvees and sped off to their rally points in a cloud of dust. Crane talked with Danner and two other officers with black stars sewn onto their BDUs. A vulpine intelligence nestled behind that blonde hair and blue eyes, a cold mind that saw only numbers on an after-action report, not broken bodies pouring lifeblood onto the slick floor of a Humvee.
“I don’t trust her,” Kelly said to Franklin, nodding to indicate Danner. “She’s a stone cold bitch.”
Franklin looked at her, surprised. “You were expecting maybe Glinda the Good Witch? A woman doesn’t get those oak leaves on her collar unless she’s a stone cold bitch.”
“I should have fucking known this,” Kelly spat out the words. “How could you not turn something like this over to the military?” And how did you miss it? She let the accusation hang in the dry air.
“That all assumes the exercise goes as planned,” Franklin said out of the side of his mouth. Kelly looked at him for an answer, but got none.
After fifteen minutes, radios crackled and the soldiers reported they were in position. All eyes turned to Maria, still holding Kelly’s hand.
“Are you ready?” Kelly asked. Maria nodded. “Be careful,” she said and gave her a hug.
“I will,” said Maria, and was off, hesitating and stutter-stepping at first, but then jogging away from the clearing, and heading into a stand of piñon trees.
“She’s created from human tissues,” Crane explained to the officers clustered around Danner. “The nanos took the tissues and replicated them, gave her perfect muscle tone, world-class athlete. No lactic acid to cause cramps, and her respiration is engineered to be low. Reflexes are human-plus.”
“She’s programmed only to evade and elude?” one of the generals, a tall hawk-faced man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair asked.
“Right,” Crane said confidently.
“The BDUs she’s wearing have sensors on them,” Danner said. “Same with Alpha Company. The M4s are modified. They don’t use the 7.62 NATO rounds; they’re equipped with a small laser. When it strikes a sensor, the information is relayed back here, and we determine the nature of the hit — minor, major or lethal.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kelly caught a ghost of a smile on Franklin’s face.
Running set her free, Maria thought, the ghost of a memory licking at her ( somewhere with a crowd along a road cheering her on ), legs effortlessly pistoning, picking up speed as she sprinted across the rocky terrain, hopping over rocks and bounding over fallen trees. Her breaths — she needed oxygen-nitrogen to fuel herself — were slow, deep and deliberate; her ponytailed hair flew behind her as she ran. The sky overhead was clear azure, no clouds, the land beginning to bloom from its winter slumber. Birdsong around her — pretty . Goal ten miles away, with the fifty men in wait for her — hunting me , she thought. She headed into the tree line, ducking and weaving among the piñons, startling small animals as her boots crunched the underbrush —
Off to the right, a small sound inaudible to human ears but she heard it clearly, the soft rub click of a metal switch (safety switch) — ambush. She skidded to a halt, went hard right as the three camouflaged figures rose from behind a fallen tree. She ducked as the whine of the lasers sounded ( rush into ambush, don’t run away from it ) closing the distance with unnatural speed and
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