Carbon Life

by HR Ringer

  * * *

  · FIELD GEAR AND ARMOR SHOP ·

  Samantha had been given a break from weapons training so she could be fitted for the numerous ceramic armor plates that would form her main physical protection from weapons fire. The four-piece underlying suit was crafted in thin layers of carbon infused ballistic fibers, woven in alternating layers for flexibility. The sleeves, woven in a similar fashion, attached to the shoulders of the main shirt with heavy duty hook and pile fasteners; this allowed for easy repair or replacement of damaged sections, plus they could be readily removed in the field for repairs as well as for first aid to the arms.

  The shirt itself was form fitting, an important feature, as the ceramic ablative armor had to mold to the owner’s curves as well. Traynor was fitted with and issued ‘under the armor’ underpants and undershirt with a built-in, custom fitted support bra, different from the items she normally wore under her duty uniform; once so clad, she pulled on the carbon fiber suit pants and shirt. The fitters made sure everything was fastened and squared away correctly, as the next operation was crucial to comfort and protection in the field.

  Traynor stood under a device with a ‘C’-shaped arm hanging from a ceiling pivot; at the end of the short lower leg of the ‘C’ was a wide-angle laser emitter. Every piece of clothing she was wearing had to be wrinkle free and conform to her body perfectly; the arm carrying the scanner would rotate 360º around her, scanning top to bottom, in order to form a complete 3-D image, including her head. Her armor plates and helmet would be cast from this virtual map, conforming perfectly to her body’s contours when finished.

  “Wouldn’t this body scan be more precise without any clothes?” she’d asked the techs as they’d labored to make sure her under-armor was correctly positioned and wrinkle free.

  “Possibly,” came the answer, “except we’ve found the scanner is so precise it needs to account for the thickness of your underwear – otherwise, the hard shells can be too restrictive, particularly the chest plate. If your boobs were not slightly compressed and supported by your bra and shirt, the lower edges of the hard shell’s curves would be inaccurately located. Same goes for your arms and legs – you have considerable muscle mass for a female, so the plates for those areas have to be slightly larger in circumference than would normally be expected.”

  The tech grinned at her as he finished positioning her arms away from her sides. “Now, don’t move. When I tell you, take a deep breath, exhale completely, then take a normal breath and hold it. Scan will begin at the center of your back. Ready?”

  Sam nodded; the tech said, “Deep breath, exhale, normal breath and hold.” She did as she had been instructed, then closed her eyes as she heard the scanner start its circular path.

  The machine made two quick circles around her; the tech said, “Okay Ms Traynor, take a couple of breaths, then hold for me again.” Once again, she heard the motors above her head send the scanner arm around her, this time taking twice as long to complete one circuit.

  “Okay Ma’am, we’re done. Want to take a look?”

  Sam moved to the control console, which had a life sized wire-frame holo-image of her slowly rotating above a floor-mounted display projector. “That’s really me? Hard to believe my arms and legs are that muscled up.”

  “That will be the model for your armor. We’ll send a text when we need you back in for your first fitting.”

  * * *

  * 2179/11/15 through 2179/12/30 *

  In the weeks leading up to the New Year’s break, Xiùlán and Samantha had been so busy they barely had the time, never mind the energy, to enjoy each other’s company in the evenings. Samantha had found an exercise room she could adjust to her liking, meaning gravity set to 1.6 greater than Earth normal, atmospheric pressure equal to 0.85 kg/cm². Her workouts on the heavy bag were guaranteed to drain whatever extra energy she possessed at the end of a day filled with classes she felt were designed to make her brain implode.

  In addition to her physical and combat training and along with her hand-to-hand training (which was increasingly becoming problematic, as no one except Xiùlán wished to spar with her), she was being instructed in everything there was to know about quantum communications, including how to set up the equipment, how to manually compensate for time/distance/velocity lag, even how to ‘piggyback’ a carrier wave through another transmitter. Her technical instructors were teaching the different ways to hack into asari, turian and batarian computers and electronics equipment, while her physical instructors were demonstrating the most efficient ways of killing asari, turian, batarian, krogan and salarian opponents using only her hands, elbows, feet and other parts of her body. She had the temerity to question the wisdom of physically attacking an asari, given their biotic abilities; she was told they were being instructed in stealth for that very reason. She afterwards kept her doubts to herself, believing that attacking a trained biotic was a guaranteed death sentence.

  It came as a surprise to both of them when they discovered that several of their human instructors were on loan from the Interplanetary Combat Academy – the ‘N-School’. While Xiùlán and Sam were not training for that program, a major part of their coursework was quite similar in difficulty and intensity. They both had become proficient at close-quarters combat (Xiùlán had been proficient before she’d started the classes) and Traynor had successfully completed combat lifesaver training.

  Courses in alien biology and alien languages were still to come. While they wouldn’t receive the coveted ‘N’-classification for their efforts, their service records would reflect successful completion of all the additional training.

  Sam and Xiùlán had each received their custom manufactured armor; both had selected solid black without a hint of gloss. Sam’s had ebony tinted deep red trim, while Xiùlán had chosen a green tinted nearly down to a deep jade. Traynor had assisted her friend in setting up her suit computer and helmet’s heads up display to her liking; she’d expressed amazement at the amount of room inside Xiùlán’s compared to her own until she watched her get ‘armored up’.

  Xiùlán braided her long hair, then coiled and pinned it behind and atop her head before pulling the helmet on. When it was fastened and hooked into her suit, an observer standing outside would never know the woman had hair long enough to brush the small of her back.

  They’d each spent time with ‘Gunny’ in the Weapons Dome making sure their weapons docks were correctly configured for their chosen guns – Sam’s sniper rifle, pistol and shotgun; Xiùlán’s assault rifle and shotgun. Once armored up and with weapons docked, they’d been sent on cross-country runs in a variety of environments; everything from the Martian surface to simulated salarian jungles to high altitude/high gravity deserts. All of Traynor’s workouts in high grav/altitude conditions really paid off here, as she bested everyone in her class except Xiùlán.

  The last week of the year was a ‘free’ week, meaning staff and students could relax. Sam had a special gift for her lover… an item she’d only just received from Earth. Knowing that Chinese women loved receiving gifts, Sam had been feeling increasingly guilty about her negligence in that aspect of their relationship. The last ‘present’ she’d given Xiùlán had been herself. This time Sam had a more tangible gift for her – Xiùlán enjoyed wearing necklaces when she wasn’t wearing a uniform, so Samantha had found a unique present, something she felt was ideal.

  Sam had invented a nickname for her friend, based on an English pronunciation of her given name. She called her out of their bedroom. “Linn, I need to see you out here, please.”

  Yuán, wearing an old sweatshirt over a pair of cut-off jeans, walked out to join her. “What’s up?”

  Sam motioned to one of the chairs in their small kitchen/dining area as she replied, “Sit for a minute. I need to look at something.” Xiùlán took a seat, wondering what Sam was about to do.

  Samantha bent down, kissed her lover on the cheek, whispered “Wǒ ài nǐ, Yuán Xiùlán.” [我愛你 - I l
ove you, Yuán Xiùlán] in her ear, then stood directly behind her. “Raise your arms and close your eyes, Luv.”

  Xiùlán did as requested; before she could protest, Samantha deftly removed Xiùlán’s sweatshirt, pulling it up and off over her head and outstretched arms, leaving her wearing only her bra and shorts. Sam gently and lovingly massaged her lover’s well-muscled shoulders and upper back for several minutes. Retrieving her hands prompted a murmured protest. “Don’t stop, Sam. Feels good when you do that.” Tipping her head back, she started to open her eyes, only to receive an upside down kiss on her forehead.

  “No peeking, Luv.” Sam had Xiùlán’s present in her hands. “Keep ‘em closed.” Without another word, she reached over her head, set something cool on her bare skin just above the center of her bra and fastened a chain at the back of her neck. Xiùlán opened her eyes and looked down as Traynor smiled and declared, “Happy New Year, Linn! Well, it’s still a month away for you, so it’s an early present. I couldn’t wait to give it to you! Hope you like it!”

  Sam had placed a pendant on a chain around her lover’s neck. Xiùlán gingerly picked it up for a closer look. “My god, Samantha! What is… where in the world did you get this?” She slowly stood and turned, facing her friend with a look that mixed delight, love and puzzlement in equal parts as she examined the unusual object she’d been given.

  “It’s a tooth from a tiger shark… very old… more than 450 years, probably closer to 485 or 490. A jeweler I know in Shanghai made the polished gold cap and did the platinum and gold inlay… chain is gold as well.” Sam clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. “Be careful… edges are still quite sharp… serrations could slice you if you’re not cautious. Do you like it? I mean… I wasn’t sure… didn’t know what… you’d like. I…”

  Xiùlán placed her fingertips on Sam’s lips to stop her from rambling. “It’s absolutely stunning! I love it, Samantha! It’s beautiful!” She enveloped Sam in her arms, replacing her fingertips with her own lips, kissing and hugging her passionately; Sam returned both kiss and hug, thrilled at being able to spring this surprise on her.

  Xiùlán grabbed her friend by her upper arms and pushed back gently. “No one outside of family has ever given me anything this nice,” she whispered, lips just brushing Sam’s. “I will treasure this forever, Sēn měi.” She tenderly placed her lips against Sam’s once again, kissing her unhurriedly and thoroughly as she again embraced her while digging her fingers into the small of Sam’s back.

  Traynor finally pushed away slightly in order to catch her breath, the warmth of physical need spreading outward from her core. Looking down at the twin mounds of barely covered breasts before her, she huffed, “Keep kissing me like that and your bra is coming off.”

  Xiùlán’s response was to release her lover and back-pedal towards their bedroom as she reached up behind her back to unhook and remove her bra; she waved it teasingly at Sam and purred, “You catch me, you can have me,” before tossing the garment at her.

  * * *

  * SALARIAN FREIGHTER MV CRYSTAL SCARAB *

  · Leaving Nonuel, Plutus System, Hades Gamma Cluster, 2180/01/03 ·

  Captain Uzor Saelon stalked the area behind his pilot, impatience showing in his every move. He had set course and was making a hard burn for the Antaeus System, a trip that would take at least three weeks, probably four. Depending on the orbital position of the Mass Relay there, he’d have another twelve to eighteen hours of travel time before being able to set out for the Gemini Sigma cluster.

  Septivus Vulpez, the turian mercenary paying for this trip, was hunting for an artifact from the dawn of space exploration… before the turians… before even his own race had achieved space flight. The asari had been traveling the galaxy for many years before salarians had left Sur’Kesh to claim their own place among the stars. A number of Matriarchs had left Thessia around 540 BCE, with no destination or plan other than exploration. Only six were ever heard from again; the rest had vanished without a trace, with the exception of one. Matriarch Dilinaga’s remains had been discovered, along with pages torn from a journal of her notes.

  The turian had discovered a mercenary outpost on the surface of Nonuel, with two long dead mercs lying in the ash and cinders on either side of a large crate. If the footprints in the ash were any guide, the mercs were facing each other over the crate when they died; each suffered a single gunshot wound in the chest… each still clutched an ancient gun.

  Septivus had cautiously pried the crate open and discovered a carefully wrapped, handwritten copy of one of Matriarch Dilinaga’s treatises. It seemed unlikely she penned it herself, but the flowing brushwork and intricate watercolor illustrations were clearly the handiwork of a master scribe.

  Of greater interest to Saelon, one of the mercs was found to be carrying a League of One medallion. This was more interesting as an historical artifact than something of great value, but Saelon expected he’d be able to turn this bit of good fortune to his advantage when he was finally able to return to Sur’Kesh.

  Vulpez’s reason for traveling to the Gemini Sigma cluster was due to a hint within Matriarch Dilinaga’s notes – there was mention of an ancient object, a highly detailed figurine of Janiri, the ancient asari goddess of seasons, storms, and agriculture.

  It was rumored to have been carved from a solid piece of Thessian metamorphic rock, a material of like kind and quality as grey veined marble from Earth; standing no more than 50 centimeters high, it would be something relatively easy to smuggle past an antiquities inspector on the Citadel.

  Captain Saelon walked through the short passageway to the passenger compartment. Finding Vulpez studying the asari notebook, he coughed lightly to announce his presence. “We are on our way to the relay, Septivus. Travel time will be approximately four weeks, plus time within the system to reach the relay. Have you been able to determine any more information concerning this artifact?”

  The turian glanced up from the notebook. “This is a find of great significance, Uzor,” indicating the ancient book. “That it has survived all this time relatively undamaged? A minor miracle.” He caressed the binding with an odd reverence. “The asari government will pay handsomely for this book of scribbles.”

  “I don’t see what makes this so valuable, Septivus.”

  The turian chuckled, sub-harmonics deepening the timbre to an evil-sounding lilt. “To a relatively short-lived race such as yours… or even mine, Uzor, the value can seem to be… inflated… beyond all reason. Think of this volume as just one of a number concerning the generational information concerning your family… how you breed… what alignments you need to achieve for greatness.” The turian’s eyes glinted with a passion Saelon hadn’t previously seen, but he nodded anyway. “You may have all but a few of the total volumes, and yet without this one volume, your line is completely broken.” Saelon nodded again, still wondering where this wily old merc was going with his explanation.

  “Now consider the asari. A thousand-year lifespan. A number of their Matriarchs were in their what?… 800’s?… 900’s or so when they set out to explore, to learn what there was… out there.” Vulpez waved his left hand around above his head to emphasize his point. “Out there, my friend. Not since the Protheans has any civilization been capable of doing what they did, Uzor!… until the asari achieved spaceflight, discovered the relays?! The writings of this one asari are all that’s been discovered of her explorations, the explorations of any of those that never returned! The figurine I’m searching for may not have much value to you or me, but to the asari republic, it’d be a priceless relic from their golden age of exploration, a time before there was even a council.”

  “But the asari formed the council with the salarians in 500 BCE, Septivus.”

  “Ah, but the turians were not represented for 1400 years after, my salarian friend. How could there possibly be a functioning council with only two representatives, I ask you? There would only be a consensus if each representative voted yes or no. How wou
ld a split vote be decided?”

  Saelon couldn’t think of a reasonable response, so turned and went to his own quarters. It appeared he was in for a long four weeks.

  * * *

  ALIEN RESEARCH STATION, SOUTH POLE, MARS, 2180/01/03

  SC1 Heather Gonzales stepped from the shuttlecraft into the massive hanger bay above the excavated remains created by the unknown race responsible for construction of the Mass Relays and the Citadel, the seat of power in the galaxy. Looking around as she walked with several of her classmates to the nearby elevator that would descend into the abandoned station, she marveled at the size of this portion of the underground facility. Knowing that the rest of the ancient remains were even further underground simply reinforced her impression that the aliens responsible for all this, whoever or whatever they were, had been master engineers.

  As she had tested so well on ancient languages, Gonzales was going to spend the next five weeks working, together with her classmates, alongside the scientists and researchers responsible for cataloging and archiving the vast store of records that were being unearthed at an enormous rate. The aliens responsible for all this had vanished as if they had never existed, by some accounts, nearly 50,000 years ago. It was as if, one day long ago, they had been abruptly recalled back to whatever system they called ‘home’.

  Of all the records discovered, of everything uncovered, not a single body had been found. Admittedly, there were a large number of habitable planets in the galaxy that had yet to be scanned or explored by anyone, but no organic remains had been discovered thus far. Heather was somehow comforted to know that none had been found here, on Mars; she had no desire to discover someone’s tomb, no matter how long ago that ‘person’ had died.