NANO Archive 01: The City of Fire

by Jason Crutchfield

  “Buxom…” My former self repeated plainly. The young Ihlia stared at Shandi's chest, pumped outward with the forceful arch of her back, and sighed. She smiled a smile interlaced with mixed emotions of relief and disappointment then retorted, “Those are what I'd call buxom, Shandi. Wanna trade?”

  “Oh, please, child. You're making mountains out of mole hills,” Shandi dismissively waved her hand.

  “Psht, I wish!” The young Ihlia playfully hissed back and gripped her own modestly sized breasts as though comparing them to Shandi's. The two ladies laughed, and I joined them even as I sat with my ethereal arms draped around Shandi's neck.

  “Now, baby, I need to ask you something important.” Shandi maneuvered until she sat directly in front of the young Ihlia. She took hold of my former self's hands with her own, and she clutched them tightly. “Do you want Donovan, or do you love Donovan?”

  I crossed my arms and sat next to the two figments from my past. I watched my former self tip her head in absolute confusion, but I understood her muddled expression even through her face's censored blur.

  “Both? Can't I want him and love him?” Ihlia laced her question with desperate anticipation, as though she knew the answer would not be one she desired but one she needed to hear.

  “Not always, Sug'. I'm here for you, so whatever you want is what I'll help you get. If you want that man, then I know some sure fired ways of workin' what you got to get him. By the end of the mission, you could bet your bottom dollar he'd be putty in the palm of your hand. But if you love him…” Shandi painfully furrowed her brows, “if you love him, things don't always quite work out like you might want, darlin'.”

  “What do you mean? If I love him I can't be with him?” The young Ihlia leaned forward.

  “Heavens no, that's not what I meant, Sug'. It's just… as a woman, if you love a man, you need to support him as a man. Men are amazin' things. They're weak when they can be, strong when they have to be, and completely helpless the rest of the time. And there ain't nothin' on this earth with more power over a man than a woman,” Shandi giggled.

  “When a man is bein' a man and tryin' to move and shake the world, it's real easy to distract him and take him for your own. But I don't think that's love, baby. You gotta support what your man is tryin' to do, even if that means feelin' lonely and cold in a tent by yourself some nights.” Shandi smiled a sad smile. While I knew her gems of wisdom helped her cope with the reality of her own situation, the younger Ihlia perceived her words as advice from the lips of the wisest love guru on the planet. I chuckled softly at my own young naivety.

  “So if I tell you that I love him, what are you going to tell me to do?” Ihlia lowered her head.

  “Show him you can stand by his side, darlin'. When he turns around lookin' for someone to be there in the darkness, make sure you're the first one he sees. When he stumbles, help pick him back up. Oh, but don't make it obvious you're doin' that. Men got that pride thing,” Shandi giggled. “You have to share in his victories and failures, and when no one else will believe in him, Sug', you believe in him.”

  “Will it be like that forever?” Ihlia's voice echoed a sense of bitter sweetness.

  “Hard to tell, baby. I'm really only tellin' you my point of view based on my experiences. But I can tell you what I believe. I believe that one day, in the middle of chasin' his dream and makin' a mark on this here world, a man will realize what's really important is the people closest to him. Then, you'll be able to share those dreams together,” Shandi longingly looked up at the stars.

  “It's not somethin' you can force, darlin', but you can't just sit around and wait for it forever either. So long as you follow that gorgeous heart of yours and listen to it real close, you'll know when the time comes to put yourself out there.” Shandi cupped my younger self's cheeks and gently lifted the young Ihlia's face toward the sky.

  “Is that why you haven't said anything to Bradich about how you feel about him?” Ihlia inquired.

  “That's right, Sug'. I'm livin' my own advice for better or worse. I won't lie, there are many nights I think it's the worst thing I ever decided to do. Some nights I wish I didn't love him no more. But then when I see him smile after a big mission or watch that passionate gleam flicker in his eyes when he negotiates a new contract, I just can't help myself,” Shandi smiled. “Not to mention, I never seen anyone as handsome carryin' a gun as that man.”

  “Shandi…” The young Ihlia droned.

  “What, Sug'? I'm a mercenary, not a princess. Watchin' him mow down the enemy at the front lines is what drew me to him in the first place. Mm, that man.” Shandi blushed as her mind clearly ventured into a fantasy land; no doubt she and Bradich stood back to back atop a hill against all odds professing their undying love to one another as they slew advancing droves of enemies.

  “Oh, Shandi…” I laughed and shook my head.

  “I tell you what, darlin'. Your birthday is comin' up soon, right? It'll probably happen in Cairo durin' our mission. We'll doll you up on your birthday; that way he'll at least see you as a woman. After that you can decide what to do with the advice I gave you, m'kay baby?” Shandi brushed her fingers back through the young Ihlia's obsidian hair. My younger self nodded and shifted positions until she sat directly next to the red headed beauty.

  The two continued chatting in the grass beneath the star-strewn sky. The glow of the fire at their backs and the distant laughter of the men enjoying their alcohol and rambunctious activities faded first. As I sat in front of my fond memories, their voices distorted and the issues they addressed during their nonchalant conversation fell into the recesses of darkness creeping across the world I remembered like a whispering plague.

  File 24: Cairo

  “Ihlia, Bit says there's an enemy engineer at twelve o'clock relative to the facility; he also says that engineer is setting up an automated chain gun nest. If he finishes programming the AI, the entire north perimeter will be pinned down. Take him out.” Shandi's voice scratched through a communications bead embedded in my younger self's ear.

  The sixteen-year-old girl, prone on her stomach atop a nest on the roof of the Nanite Research Dome, stared down the length of her sniper rifle with her telescopic vision nanite dilating and expanding her pupils like lenses. The green hue of her night vision implant illuminated the darkness of Cairo's desert oasis. As the warm night breeze blew the exposed pieces of her hair in thin wisps behind her, she swiftly guided the muzzle of her rifle to the position Shandi mentioned.

  I stood next to my younger self and sighed. Panacea, a night vision nanite, and a vision augment made up my three threshold-abiding implants at the time Cairo's mission took place. Those implants best suited my task as the company sniper, and I still remained blissfully unaware of my special ability to limitlessly load my brain with nanites back then.

  “Understood,” Ihlia responded and trained her rifle's maw on the assaulting soldier who frantically worked to establish the chain gun nest. A blue holo screen extended from the or portable holocom cuffed around his wrists. The enemy engineer intended to set up a pivoting Vulcan with pre-programmed targeting algorithms that would decipher friend from foe. Ihlia intended to make sure that never happened.

  Heavy cloth covered his entire body to protect his skin from the grinding sand blasted from the desert floor by violent winds. Given his attire, the young Ihlia barely discerned the engineer from any one of the locals. The thick turban pulled down over his head and the flowing scarf concealing his lower face left only a small slit visible near his eyes, but one thing betrayed him. His pale skin gleamed brightly in the green night vision onset by Ihlia's nanite. He was European, a Union soldier.

  Three soldiers, obviously the engineer's comrades, guarded the technician as he busily punched the buttons of blue light projected by his holocom. Aside from the four soldiers setting up the Vulcan, a small contingency unit of tro
ops kept a constant hail of suppression fire on Bit and the militia on the northern border of the facility. With their backs against the metal barricades constructed for the compound's defense, they were all but pinned already.

  The Union soldiers continued hastily programming their automated Vulcan to waylay the militia and Ihlia's fellow Eagles along the northern perimeter, but they were little more than a forward suppression unit. Farther beyond the small squad, my former self and I noted several squads of soldiers racing down the dunes toward the compound. The chain gun, no doubt installed to cover the larger squads' advance, simply posed too great a threat to remain operational, at least under their control.

  “Shandi, where's Downy?” The young Ihlia depressed the lobe of her ear to activate the communication bead wedged within it.

  “He's setting up a couple of Sentinels on the western border with Welsch and Loxley. The militia is thin there, and the enemy activity is getting heavy on that side,” she replied.

  Ihlia, and by proxy I, heard several digital beeps as Shandi's fingers worked their magic. On the other side of the comm bead, she rapidly depressed glowing, holographic keys to process massive quantities of data within seconds.

  “Sentinels? Bradich authorized their use? That's some heavy artillery,” My former self seemed surprised, if only a little.

  “You know the commander. He takes a contract seriously, Sug'.” Shandi's grin was almost auditory.

  “Tell Downy to hurry up and head to the north perimeter. Bit and our northern forces might be overrun even if they don't get that turret down. But…” My younger version's words cut through the night but Shandi interrupted.

  “But if Downy can hack the turret after you take out their engineer and Bit covers him, then we'll have ourselves a chain gun to mow them suckers down like an overgrown lawn! That's a might smart, I'll send him over. You just take out that technician, baby.” Shandi's voice maintained its southern drawl, but her annunciation rang out as sharp as my daggers.

  My younger self grinned and surveyed the eastern front. Ihlia watched as Downy touched his ear to better hear the orders from our comms master; his mysteriously dopey smile widened. He pushed on his ear and uttered a word of affirmation before sprinting across the combat zone's sandy hills toward Bit and the suppressed militia. The metallic clanks of his programmed Sentinels buzzing to life heralded his departure from the western front, and I returned my sights to the northern perimeter just as the cacophonous explosions of the Sentinels' cannons shook the night.

  As Downy approached the site, he slid across the sand and slammed his back into the metal barricade next to Bit. The two exchanged a few words, Bit nodded, and they both pressed their comm bead to signal to our comms master that they were in position.

  “Ihlia, they're ready to charge the nest with the militia forces. Take out the technician first, and as much of the forward unit as possible to cover their assault,” Shandi beeped over my comm bead.

  “Roger that, Shandi.” My younger self locked her iron sights and night vision on the engineer. At the trough of her exhale, she squeezed the trigger.

  A resounding crack propelled the first shot from her rifle. After a mere second, the technician jolted back as though struck with a furious blow. Blood pooled from his forehead, and he dropped to the ground, dead. His comrades flew into action; their assault rifles nervously swept in every direction as they hurriedly sought their mysterious attacker. By the time they surmised the possibility of a long distance sniper, Bit issued a deep, guttural command to charge.

  A blaze of gunfire lit up the night sky along the northern perimeter. I almost heard the high-pitched whistle of Bit's portable minigun as he trotted forward into the surprised unit of enemies. With the militia behind him and Downy bringing up the rear with a pistol, their sudden retaliation left their enemies in disarray. The Union soldiers scattered for cover. Most of them ducked into a trench they had hastily carved during their advance, but a single man stood from the trench with a green bulb gripped in his palm. My former self noted the small digital red numbers bleep onto a miniature screen on the side of the device. The Union soldier was preparing to toss a nuclear pulse grenade.

  Nicknamed a “Little Kid” as a jab at the ancient “Fat Boy,” the nuclear pulse grenade functioned similarly to an old fashioned hand grenade but with a blast radius several times larger and with enough heat to partially flash-melt steel and stone. After activating the timer, a simple flick of a switch-cover and the depression of a red button activated the chemical mixture.

  Once in motion, shutting off a Little Kid is impossible. My younger self waited until the flash of the red digits began their countdown and the enemy drew his arm back to prepare the toss. The moment the Union soldier's arm fully extended back, Ihlia put a bullet in his forehead. The Little Kid dropped into the trench with the startled soldiers, and after a brief pause to lament their fate, the majority of the unit scrambled from the trench to escape the blast radius of the micro-nuke.

  Of course, as they emerged from their protective pit, high caliber rounds squealing from Bit's minigun and the milita's assault weaponry thwacked into their chests and heads, sending them straight to a dirt nap. To choose between instant vaporization or a body riddled with holes as a final destination seemed a cruel fate, indeed. Such was war, however. My younger self kept her calm even through the dull explosions booming on all sides of the facility.

  “Damn, I was a clever little brat,” I grinned as I stood, an incorporeal witness to my past, and watched Bit and Downy secure the rotating Vulcan turret. With Downy on the task, it was a matter of moments before the high caliber automatic sentry gun hummed to life and turned on the advancing enemy squadrons.

  I looked down at the young Ihlia. Tendrils of her obsidian hair haphazardly poked through a heavy cloth encircling her face and head; the cloth protected her skin from the shearing sands carried by voracious gusts of wind. To blend into the building's metallic hue and the darkness of the war-torn Cairo, Ihlia sported dark gray combat attire similar to what she always wore. Similar to what I wore, too, save the color. I remembered the frustration caused by the cloth that obscured the young Ihlia's vision, but I also remembered that Cairo's unpredictable weather required it.

  Over the course of two hundred years or so, the climate in Egypt gradually shifted. While still a desert, seasons closer to those experienced by a temperate region emerged. Compared to the old data of the area, where measurements of rain barely topped millimeters and temperatures rarely dropped below fifty degrees Fahrenheit, the colder seasons recorded temperatures as low as forty-two degrees, and during the winter months, rainfall occurred a few days more often than historically documented. Scientists speculated that within a few more centuries, Egypt may have been the center of a lush forest.

  Of course, that was not to be. In the distance, Egypt's ruins from the cities of Cairo and Giza to the ancient pyramids offered a grim perspective on humanity's artistic preservation… or lack thereof. When the war started and Egypt became a forefront in nanite research, assaulting parties paid little heed to the seventh wonder of the world or its surrounding cities. Missiles and artillery reduced the sphinx and the towering pyramids it guarded to piles of rubble during the struggle to capture the territory, and the constant bombardment from the Union and the French reduced the city to dust. Only a faint resemblance to the area's former glory, a few military bases, and the Nanite Research Domes remained.

  “Good work, Ihlia, but now is no time to get all lax-a-daisy. Jace and Gunther on the western border are under fire from a Hoverbuster. It's dropping in soldiers and spraying tons of lead on our boys. See if you can't ground it,” Shandi urgently commanded.

  As the young Ihlia swiveled to bring her iron sights and telescopic vision on the western perimeter, the distant whine of an aircraft engine drifted to her from across the desert. The Hoverbuster, a nickname for a science jargon numbered hov
er aircraft, reigned over the skies as an aerial juggernaut.

  With the capacity to transport over one hundred soldiers for deployment or extraction, in addition to its ability to maintain altitude through various energy-efficient, antigravity propulsion systems, the Hoverbuster took the stage as an advanced transport carrier replacing helicopters. But its capabilities did not stop at simply transportation; with several electromagnetically charged rail guns and cannons, the Hoverbuster basically sported an entire fleet's artillery in a single ship.

  “Where are the twins? I'm sure they have a rocket launcher or missile somewhere that could bring that bird down.” Ihlia pressed down her comm bead.

  “They're at the southern perimeter finishing preparations on a mine field. The southern border is quiet, but we need a detection system and deterrent against possible flanking maneuvers,” Shandi responded.

  “All right, but this is going be tough. Those cockpit shutters are almost impenetrable; the pilots run the entire monster from holocoms on the inside. They don't even need to see, so no glass either,” My younger version began rummaging through a satchel at her side.

  “So you can't do it, honey?” Shandi sounded concerned.

  “I said almost impenetrable,” The young Ihlia chuckled and tugged a pair of bullets and a metal wrist band resembling a bracelet from her bag. After clamping the wrist band on, she pressed a few buttons on the metallic accessory before it beeped to life. I crossed my arms and watched on as my young self chambered one of the new rounds into her father's rifle.

  A blue holocom screen sprouted from the device; its flickering blue emanations formed a hazy panel that floated roughly a foot above Ihlia's wrist. Her free hand moved like lightning and “grabbed” the blue light, shifting the illusory screen to hover above a part of the bracelet more conducive to her hand's position when holding her rifle. I still remembered how much I detested using that piece of equipment. Since the blue lights flickered and glinted, even if only a little, a good chance existed they would betray the young Ihlia's position to an enemy sniper. Just such a mistake sent Larz to his dirt nap a year prior. A situation as dire as the one that night, however, qualified as a viable exception.