by John Ringo
"Okay," Mitchell said. "Sounds like a plan."
* * *
"Well, sir, this was a hell of a plan," Kitteket said sourly. The Humvee was perched on the edge of a precipice that did not appear on the map.
The path up to this point had been no picnic. It was a forestry road and hadn't been maintained in years, certainly since the war had started. The road had not been particularly good to start with and washouts and fallen limbs had slowed them considerably. But this was certainly the icing on the cake.
"Good stop there, Specialist," he said, considering his map again. "This certainly is not what is supposed to be there. Or, rather, what is supposed to be there is not there."
"Whichever it is, we need to find someplace that is there," Kitteket said grumpily.
"Ah," he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a bottle of pills. "Take one," he said, handing it to her.
"What is this?" the specialist asked.
"Provigil," he answered, taking one himself. "It's getting late and it's been a long day and we're all tired, right?"
"Right," she said, taking the pill.
"Not anymore," he said. "What, you never read a manual on Provigil?"
"No," she said. "I've heard the name, but I don't know what it is."
"It makes you 'untired,' " he said. "It's not an upper; it's sort of the reverse of a sleeping pill. You don't get sleepy. You do tend to get stupid and you don't notice, but tomorrow some time, assuming that we don't get to sleep, which is likely, I'll pass around some uppers and those will increase our thought speed as well. We'll be almost good-to-go. Right up until the spiders start crawling all over us."
He considered the map again and frowned. "If we back up and head downhill there's another road that heads over towards Betty Gap along the ridge. It should be passable."
"If it's even there," she grumped, putting the Humvee in reverse.
"Oh ye of little faith," he said, leaning back. "Things could be worse, things could be much worse."
"Oh really?" she asked sarcastically.
"Trust me," Ryan said, fingering the 600 insignia on his chest. "Been there, done that, got the scar."
* * *
"You're doing what?" Shari asked. "Are you nuts?"
"Well, I'm not sure I'll tell anybody we did it," Wendy answered. "Assuming we live to get out of here. But, no, we're not nuts."
"You must be," Shari said angrily, looking around the room. "You can't blow this place up! There are survivors all through the Urb!"
"It took them four years to retake the Rochester Urb," Wendy pointed out. "The estimate is that after two weeks there will be less than two hundred survivors and I think that is being generous; I'd say less than two. Compare that to the Posleen losses if the whole Urb comes down on them; there are probably fifty or sixty thousand Posleen in this place right now."
"You can't blow the whole thing up anyway," Shari countered. "It's designed to survive a close explosion of a nuclear weapon."
"It's designed to be hit from the outside, lass," Elgars answered. "The supports aren't designed to take side damage. Plus the bleeding bombs will start fires; lots of them. If the Posleen aren't all burned out they will still weaken the supports and the whole thing will come down."
Shari looked at Elgars with a sidelong expression. "What bombs? And why do you have an English accent?"
"She's channeling a Brit," Wendy said. "Probably one of their demo experts. And the bombs are all the tanks; each of them is filled with ammonium nitrate fuel oil bombs."
"They look like . . . gray gunk," Shari said.
"Don't worry, it's a bomb," Wendy said. "A big enough one that it's going to gut the whole Urb and any Posleen that are in it."
"And all the human survivors," Shari said.
"And all the human survivors," Wendy agreed.
"That's sick," the older woman spat.
"No, it's war," Wendy answered coldly. "You remember where we came from?"
"I survived Fredericksburg," Shari snapped. "And there will be people who would survive this! But not if you detonate that bomb!"
"What was important about Fredericksburg was that it gave the Posleen a seriously bloody nose!" Wendy snapped back. "After that, they knew we could and would fuck them at every opportunity. With this we're going to cut the head off of their advance and take out a sizable chunk of their force. And that is worth the casualties. Worth the dead. In war, people die. Good people and bad people. If I thought most of them would survive, no, we wouldn't detonate the bomb. But almost all of them are going to die in these tunnels and be turned into rations. Not. On. My. Watch."
"So are you going to stick around to be blown up?" Shari asked bitterly.
"Hell no!" Wendy said. "I'm going to get the fuck out, if I can. And bring you and the kids with me! And we're setting the bomb for six hours from . . ."
"About four minutes ago, actually," Elgars said, looking at the controls. "So I suggest you ladies get this discussion done."
"Shit," Shari said quietly. "Okay, okay. Let's go." She looked upwards to the rest of the Urb and shook her head. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry I didn't die in Section A," Wendy said, putting her hand on Shari's shoulder. "That would have been . . . clean. But we're going to fuck up the Posleen, and that's the bottom-line."
"Well, you two can talk about it all you'd like," Elgars said, heading for the far door. "But I'm getting the hell out of Dodge."
"Agreed," Wendy said, following her. "Agreed."
Shari took one more look at the controls and turned to follow the other two as the north door opened up.
The Posleen normal took one look at the three women and started trotting down the swaying catwalk, burbling a cry as it pulled its railgun around.
Wendy turned and let out a shout as she pulled her MP-5 to the front.
"NO!" Elgars yelled, ripping the submachine gun from her hands. "This whole place would go up!"
"Eat nitrogen, asshole!" Shari shouted, firing a stream of the cryogenic liquid at the catwalk and the Posleen.
The normal paused to look at the liquid flying in a foaming arch. It seemed confused as to why the thresh would spray white liquid all over the walkway. But as the catwalk began to shatter from tension and brittleness the Posleen let loose a stream of railgun rounds then fell screaming into the ammonia tank.
"Oh crap," Wendy said, getting up from having thrown herself on the floor. "Ah, hell, Shari."
Shari was lying on her back, hands clamped over her stomach, with blood pouring through the catwalk and onto the floor below.
Wendy walked over and rolled her onto her stomach, exposing the massive exit wound of the railgun round.
"Aaaahhh," the older woman yelled in pain. "Oh, God! Wendy, I can't feel anything from my waist down."
"That's because it went right through your spine," Wendy said sadly. She put a pressure bandage in place and waved for Elgars to come over. "Put your hand on that."
"We need to leave," Elgars said, putting pressure on the bandage.
"Yep," Wendy answered. "And we will, in just a moment." She ripped open a Hiberzine injector and applied it to Shari's neck.
"What's that?"
"Hiberzine," Wendy said. "I can't move you awake like this."
"I don't want to be out," Shari panted. "The kids need me."
"Not with a great damned hole through you they don't," Elgars replied. "You're not going to be doing them any favors screaming every time we move you."
"We're nearly to the elevator," Wendy said desperately. "We can get you out; getting you up to the surface won't be that hard."
"Oh, God," Shari said, her lips turning blue and going cold. "I can't die now."
"You won't," Wendy promised. She jammed the Hiberzine injector against her neck and watched as the woman went limp. Her color improved almost immediately as the nannites directed blood to the brain. In moments her face was flushed and her tongue protruded horribly.
"Okay, let's go," Elgars said.
"Fuck that," Wendy answered. "We need to find a medical facility and a stretcher." She pulled out the medical pack and withdrew some clamps. "If I can put her together even a bit the Hiberzine will keep her from bleeding out while we move her."
"We can't operate on her!" Elgars snapped. "We have six hours to get out of this place or we'll all be jelly. We have to leave."
"WE ARE NOT LEAVING HER!" Wendy screamed coming to her feet and putting herself nose to nose with the soldier. "NOT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
Elgars met her stare for stare, but after a moment she backed off. "Most of the Class One facilities are where there are people. And there's not much we can do, unless you've been taking night courses as a trauma internist."
"We can stabilize her," Wendy said, waving at the console. "Go find a medical facility, one that won't have the Posleen all over it."
"This is impossible," Elgars said, shaking her head. But she keyed in the information request anyway, asking for the nearest full-scale medical facility. Strangely, the database asked her for her username and password. Keying both in, it noted that there was a Class One Plus facility only three quadrants away. The map showed it as being carved out of the wall of the main sector.
"There's a facility practically next door," Elgars said. "That door that didn't appear on the map you downloaded? It's the way into the facility."
"Well, then we're fucked," Wendy cursed. "We can't open it."
"Let's go back," Elgars said. "Maybe I can come up with something."
"What?" Wendy asked.
"I don't know," the captain said. "I'll say 'open sesame' or something."
"Fine, you go get the kids," Wendy said. "I'll start dragging her."
"Great," Elgars said. "Send me after the kids."
"They'd argue with me," Wendy pointed out heaving Shari up into a fireman's carry. "Oof. You'll be there before me, I think."
* * *
Elgars placed her palm on the doorpad as Wendy carried Shari through the door to the tank room. As soon as she placed her hand on the pad, the door opened.
"What did you do?" Wendy asked. She was sweating and panting already carrying the older woman; it had been a long day.
"I just put my palm on the pad," Elgars said with a shrug. "I'm military; maybe it was designed to open for any military personnel."
The far room had lockers against both walls and the far door appeared to be an airlock.
"You did ask for a medical facility, right?" Wendy asked, shifting the body on her shoulders. She looked around, but it looked more like the entry to a computer chip clean room.
"Yes," Elgars said leading the line of children to the far door. It, too, opened at a touch. "It's supposed to be this way. The map showed a winding path; we'll have to see what that means."
The group crowded into the airlock and Elgars keyed the next door, which opened into violet darkness.
The light from the airlock illuminated the far wall and Elgars felt an almost unholy dread shiver down her spine. The wall was clearly a made thing, but it looked organic and the tunnel drifted off to the right in a fashion that made her think, uncomfortably, of the inside of an intestine.
A purple intestine at that; the light that seemed to emanate from the walls was a deep violet. In the distance was a gurgling sound, not quite like a brook or a fountain, but more like an upset stomach and closer to hand there were high, shrill whistles. The smell was odd and alien, and acrid sweetness that told hindbrain that it was no longer in a human environment.
"Well, this is odd," Wendy said.
* * *
Elgars hefted her rifle and looked around the violet tunnel. "I don't like this. I don't like it at all." She was panting quietly.
Wendy shifted the inert lump of Shari on her shoulder and shrugged as well as she could. "I don't care if you like it or not; there's supposed to be a trauma facility in here and we're going to find it."
"Where's an info terminal?" Elgars asked rhetorically.
"Do you need information, Captain Elgars?" a mellifluous voice asked out of the walls.
Elgars pried one of the children's hands off of her uniform and looked around. "Who asked?"
"This is the facility AID, Captain," the voice answered. "Do you require assistance?"
"We have a patient," Wendy answered. "We need a medical facility."
There was no answer.
Elgars looked at Wendy and shrugged. "We have a patient, we need a medical facility," she repeated.
"Follow the sprite," the AID answered. One of the blue glowing micrites appeared and bounced in the air. "It will lead you to the facility."
The group followed the sprite as it went through a series of turns. The shrill piping and gurgling in the distance never seemed to go away or even change and, but the light would brighten in the areas through which they walked, getting dimmer as they passed.
There were occasional low, mostly empty rooms to either side of the passageway. In a few there were low stools or cushions that looked amazingly like toadstools and one had a low bench and table set that could have been for children. There were many puckered spots that could have been openings to additional chambers or simply odd architecture.
Finally they came to a room that was somewhat higher than most. In the center was a small dais with what looked like a glass-covered altar on it.
"Please place the patient in the chamber," the AID chimed in as the sprite flickered out and flew away. The top to the chamber seemed to disappear rather than receding or even folding away as memory plastic would have.
"What is this going to do to her?" Wendy asked.
"AID, could you answer that question, please?" Elgars said impatiently. "And future questions from that person that are permitted."
"The nanochamber will repair the subject," the AID answered. "The choices are repair, repair and rejuv or full upgrade."
Wendy slowly lowered Shari onto the altar and shivered uncomfortably. "Computer, what is the nature of 'full upgrade'?" she asked.
"The patient will be given nano-enhanced musculature, fast-heal and bone-structure," the AID answered emotionlessly. "Along with implanted combat skills."
"Oh, shit," Elgars said. "Computer, what is the nature of my access to this facility? Is it because I'm a military officer?"
"No, Captain," the AID answered. "You are an ongoing patient."
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Wendy said bitterly. "How long does repair take, computer?"
"Repair will take approximately ten minutes for the damage that is detected. Full upgrade will take approximately fifteen."
"Son-of-a-bitch, son-of-a-bitch, son-of-a-bitch," Wendy muttered. "SON OF A BITCH!"
"It's been here the whole time," Elgars said bitterly.
"They could have repaired David any time they wanted to."
"Or rejuved any of the old people."
" 'It would take months in the regen tanks to fix,' " Wendy quoted bitterly. "The question is whether Shari wants somebody else's memories."
"Improvements have been emplaced in the system since the experiments on Captain Elgars," the computer burbled happily. "Secondary memory and personality effects have been severely decreased. In addition, it was necessary to implant a full personality core in Captain Elgars due to complete loss of original function."
"Say that again in English," Elgars snapped.
"Anne Elgars no longer existed; she was dead," the computer said. "Due to extensive brain damage it was necessary to dump all but hindbrain functions and reload a complete personality core. This patient has not suffered significant neurological damage."
"Oh, shit," Elgars said quietly, sitting down on the floor. "Who was it?"
"That information is not available to this facility," the computer answered. "Some personality cores were brought to Earth by !Tchpth!, others were collected on Earth."
"Computer," Wendy said. "Full upgrade."
"That command needs to come from Captain Elgars," the computer said.
"Conc
ur," Elgars whispered. "Do it." At her words the top closed and went opaque, obscuring the view of the badly damaged woman.
"Annie," Wendy said, sitting down and putting her arm around her. "Don't take it so hard. They saved you. That's all that matters."
"Whoever 'me' is," Elgars said. "The fuckers. They wouldn't even tell my doctors. No wonder they thought I was nuts; I am."
"Of course they didn't explain it to your doctors," Wendy said archly. "They would have had to explain this facility. And you're not nuts, we've all got multiple 'people' running around inside of us. We just show different ones at different times."
"Sure, but that's just a way of saying it," Elgars said. "I'm really multiple people. Like . . . Frankenstein, but in the head. A patchwork girl."
"That's not the way it appears to me," Wendy argued. "You seem to . . . manifest a few of the personalities then they go away. You hardly ever have an accent anymore. And that probably explains your speech impediment; you couldn't decide which accent was 'you.' Lately you seem more . . . whole. I think you're going to end up okay. Just . . . Anne Elgars. But . . ." she snorted. "But 'upgraded.' "
"I thought I was naturally strong," the officer said, flexing a muscle. "And all this time it's nannites."
"And working out," Wendy corrected. "I imagine it gives you a . . . a sort of a stronger baseline. You have to improve it from there."
Wendy looked over at the group of children and shook her head. "We're gonna get out of here, kids. All of us."
"Is Mommy going to be okay?" Kelly asked tearfully. The children had been following in near silence since having a rather severe talking-to at the hands of Elgars.
"According to the computer she should be as good as new," Wendy said, taking her up on her lap and hugging her. "Better, she's probably going to start looking younger."
"Can it do that?" Shannon asked, shifting Amber's carrier. The ten-year-old had been keeping up like a trooper, but she was obviously flagging.
"According to the computer," Elgars said, pulling the backpack off of the girl and setting the baby on the floor. "We'll just have to see. Speaking of which—computer, are you smart enough to know that we're invaded by Posleen?"