NANO Archive 01: The City of Fire

by Jason Crutchfield

  The young Ihlia pressed a few holographic buttons floating under the blue screen; as it flickered and shifted, it showed her the world as though filtered through a piece of blue glass. Various nodes and indicators appeared on the screen when it drifted over programmed points of interest. Ihlia quickly maneuvered her hand to her firing position against her father's rifle. When Ihlia moved her hand the blue display, by her careful design, came to rest atop the rifle as though taking the place of a telescopic sight. A smile touched her lips as she aimed the cross hairs at the Hoverbuster in the distance, in particular on the thick metal cockpit shutters.

  The blue screen beeped several times; the indicators drifting across the screen computed, analyzed, and displayed the thicker and thinner points in the Hoverbuster's metal hull, but more importantly, it used highly advanced sensors to scan the aircraft's interior. With an x-ray overlay, the metallic covering faded, and two human skeletons appeared on the screen.

  Their limbs moved purposefully, and their fingers danced across various empty spaces my younger self surmised to be holocom consoles that remained undetected by her x-ray scanner. With the pilot and co-pilot in clear view, the penetration of the metallic shutters remained the only obstacle in her mission. But with her specially developed ammunition, she intended to rectify that conundrum as well. The dense osmium- and iridium-based alloys comprising the core of her rifle rounds were perfect for extreme penetration. In fact, aside from material constructed of solid diamond or the same osmium and iridium she used, most other practical barricades stood little chance of stopping the extremely hard and dense ammunition.

  Just as the enemy soldiers began repelling from the side of the Hoverbuster, Ihlia fired a round at the pilot on the “safe” side of the metal hull; the brutal thunk jarred the aircraft in its entirety, and the pilot's skull exploded inside the cockpit. The co-pilot scrambled to react to the tragedy, but Ihlia abruptly halted his attempts to salvage the situation when she put the second osmiridium round into his face. Once the two operators slept soundly, and eternally, on the metal floor, the aircraft quickly spiraled out of control with a distinct whine. The impact likely killed many of the reinforcement soldiers, but those who survived met with the ferocious charge of Jace, Gunther, and a large platoon of Cairo's local military.

  “The Hoverbuster's down, Shandi. Looks like Jace and Gunther will clean up,” The young Ihlia said with a quick press of her ear lobe. As Shandi buzzed back a response, Ihlia deactivated and pocketed her portable holocom bracelet.

  “Understood, Ihlia. Mighty fine work, Sug'. Looks like them Union boys will be packin' soon. Keep providin' support until they go on the retreat and things quiet down, ok?” Shandi's voice lost its sense of urgency. She sounded more like her calm, gentle southern belle self.

  “You got it,” Ihlia grinned and returned to her iron sights. Such was her life, such was the life of a Bald Eagle. My life, before it was snatched from me. “If only it could have stayed like that forever…” I sighed.

  * * *

  Once again the darkness swept through my consciousness and tore me from the blazing battlefield to a few days following the eventful skirmish. During a quiet period in which Bradich commanded our company to rest and allow the militia to handle perimeter security, our entire unit gathered in the common quarters of the Nanite Research Dome. Used by the scientists of the facility to relax between experimentation, socialize with one another during a reprieve, and consume their meals when they remembered to do so, the common quarters possessed a bar top, several tables, a few beds, and various holocoms and television sets for entertainment and N-3 access.

  When the Bald Eagles meandered in and made it their roost, the sophisticated air of relaxation akin to a restaurant swiftly degraded to the ruckus of a bar or lounge. Cigarette smoke wafted through the air; mugs of sludge littered the bar top; and arm wrestling, card games, and messy plates filled the tables strewn about the room. After a short time, finding one of the researchers in the common quarters became as difficult as finding a virgin in a brothel.

  “I don't think I can go through with it…” My younger self whined to Shandi, who meticulously spread blush on the young Ihlia's pale cheeks. At a table of their own, far cleaner than those of their male comrades, Shandi painted various shades and colors of makeup across my younger version's girlish countenance. I lifted a hand to my lips and chuckled as I watched the transaction, and though the face of the young Ihlia remained blurry to my ghostly vision, I remembered the sensation of Shandi applying cosmetics to the contours and curves of my facade.

  “Sug', all you're doin' is goin' to say hello. Ain't nothin' wrong with that. I'm just makin' sure you look fabulous when you do. Now come on, hold still, baby. You're makin' this a might harder than it needs to be,” Shandi giggled. The young Ihlia released a defeated sigh and nodded. As Shandi placed the finishing touches on my teenage version's cosmetic makeover, she emitted a dreamy exhale.

  “Oh, Sug', you look gorgeous. There ain't no way he won't notice you now!” Shandi clasped her hands in front of her face and giggled excitedly. As she puckered her lips and blew softly across Ihlia's eyes to dry the makeup, I smiled at the memory.

  Finally, Shandi leaned back, gripped a small porcelain-framed mirror, and placed it before Ihlia's eyes. The moment the reflective glass crossed her vision, her face illuminated and the censor blur vanished like a veil pulled back from the head of a bride. I stared at each detail of my face; every crevice and beautiful color Shandi created popped with the same subtlety and grace she exuded, herself.

  “That's me?” Ihlia whispered in disbelief.

  “M'hm. That's you, baby doll,” Shandi whispered back, “now go say hello to that man you got your eyes on.”

  Ihlia smiled and stood. The blur drifted across my former self's face once more, but a smile remained on both corners of my lips. The young Ihlia gulped down several deep breaths to prepare herself for her meeting with Donovan, but a shrill whistle suddenly interrupted her ritual.

  “Whoo, look at what we have here! Our little sniper's all dolled up!” Gunther stepped forward and examined Ihlia with extreme scrutiny. I looked over to see Welsch laughing under his breath; he and Loxley stood and found their places at Gunther's left and right. Their chorus of cat-calls and whistles froze Ihlia in place. I furrowed my brows and glanced around the rest of the room.

  The twins preoccupied themselves with a television program that featured over the top explosions, Bit and Jace chugged a pair of mugs filled with a sludge so black it might have made Crelyos cringe, and Downy sat at the bar on a stool, drawing random patterns in his food with his fork; he occasionally shot a glance at my former version's face only to snap his attention back to his food with an incoherent murmur and flushed cheeks.

  My former self grinned, despite the deep crimson stain splashed across her face. She placed both hands on her hips and cocked her shoulder to one side. “Yeah? So I'm dolled up. I'll still put a bullet between your eyes if you don't back off!” Ihlia's voice cracked as she chuckled. I knew, as an omniscient witness to my own dream and memory, that my younger version's threat and laughter served as little more than a ruse to conceal the utter embarrassment and the nerve-racking fear that she looked strange or unnatural. The men, however, failed to pick up on those insecurities.

  “Oooh, watch out Loxley and Welsch, she'll hit you in the eyes with her deadly mascara sniping skills!” The crude Persian-featured mercenary laughed heartily. Welsch shook his head and chuckled under his breath again, while Loxley merely placed a finger against the tip of his chin as though processing the information in front of him like a holocom. Small tears pooled at the corners of Ihlia's eyes. Still, she maintained her quaking grin; her dedication to hide the vulnerability she felt coaxed pity from me.

  “You scum o' the earth!” Shandi's voice rose up like a roaring fire. She launched a swift right hook through the air that landed square against
Gunther's jaw. The crude, handsome devil staggered into a nearby table and smashed through it.

  “What gives?!” Gunther shot up and rubbed his jaw; his flickering eyes focused on Shandi with a combination of fear and confusion. “We were just having a bit of fun! It's not like she's seriously…” A sharp elbow from Loxley interrupted Gunther's words. The nudge snapped the pretty boy's attention back to the young Ihlia, whose chest heaved rapidly as she attempted to quell the urge to cry.

  “… Oh. Look, Ihlia, we're sorry. We didn't mean anything by it. I thought it was a gag or something, it's out of character for you. Man, what am I trying to say here…” Gunther fumbled with his words, but Loxley stepped forward and placed his hand on the young Ihlia's shoulder.

  “What he's trying to say, Ihlia, is that he had no idea how to react when he saw how beautiful you were. We're used to your normal beauty, the pretty face without makeup and the strong loyal comrade that exhibits utter radiance in everything she does. Now that you have makeup on, the effect is just too much for a simple mind like Gunther's. Please forgive him, he just doesn't know how to talk to gorgeous women.” Loxley's smile, which swept the hearts from the chests of many a maiden, worked its magic yet again as the young Ihlia's lips relaxed into a natural smile.

  “Thanks, guys…” She said. Loxley nodded his head in the direction of the door, and Ihlia bounded off with the intention of greeting Donovan as a woman rather than just a mercenary.

  “That's too risky. It may not work; I will fix this world my way!” As Ihlia approached the door to the office in which Donovan took up residence for the duration of his research expedition, the unusual sound of Bradich's infuriated voice exploded into the hallway. My younger self's fist, a mere inch from rapping the metal door to announce her presence, paused at the outburst. With widened eyes, Ihlia stepped back into the hallway. The conversation escalated quickly.

  “Brother, you sound insane. I'm offering you a viable alternative. I understand you've become jaded since the Global Conflict, you've always been sensitive to things like this, but what you're proposing is downright evil.” Donovan's soft methodic voice echoed from the office. It was as though Donovan sought to remain the voice of reason during the exchange.

  “Evil? I never thought I'd hear the word from a scientific mind like yours. I have no intention of going about things so indirectly. I will force humanity to become more than what it is.” Bradich's voice dripped with a venomous depth which young Ihlia never heard until that night. I never forgot it since that night.

  “Run in, Ihlia. Just run in and kill him now. You can end all this before it ever begins!” I shouted with unbridled aggravation.

  “Brother, it is not the job of the enlightened to force humanity forward. We present the truth and allow those with the power to think to decide for themselves. This is why I'm urging you to rethink your stance on my proposal.” Donovan earnestly pleaded; Ihlia continued eavesdropping.

  “Your proposal involves showcasing research data and making slow steps toward a potential future. But I assure you, brother, if things continue the way they are the world won't last long enough for your future to manifest!” Bradich fumed. I remembered the abrupt shock I experienced as a young teenager listening to the commander's demeanor steadily decay during his debate with Donovan. Then, I feared a family feud might lead to a rift separating the brothers. As I experienced it in hindsight, it sounded like the raving madness of a man pushed over the edge.

  “Have faith,” Donovan sighed.

  “Faith? Faith in what? Your science? Human nature? Surely, you're the one who's insane,” Bradich growled.

  “I see, so there's just no convincing you. At least give me just a little time before you carry out your nefarious plot, then, brother. The end of this mission. If I can't show you hopeful results from my science by the end of this trip, I'll give up,” Donovan's voice escaped him, defeated.

  “Fine. You have until we return to America to show me something solid. Not theoretical, brother, solid. Are we done then? I have an appointment I must keep,” Bradich retorted; the electronic door clicked and wooshed open.

  As Bradich stormed from the office, he halted to stare at the cosmetically enhanced young Ihlia. The commander lifted a single brow skyward, but he offered my younger version a brief grin and continued down the hall back toward the rest of the Bald Eagles. Ihlia stared after him for a few moments before turning her gaze to the doorway which quickly filled with the broad shoulders of Bradich's brother, Doctor Donovan Lesfort. His white laboratory coat flowed about his body, and he shoved both his hands in his pockets. A cigarette hung loosely from the soft clutches of his lips.

  “Hm? Ihlia? It's been a while! My, how you've grown.” The doctor approached within mere inches of my nervous young self. When Ihlia parted her lips, I envisioned she desired to provide a sensual, seductive greeting with the allure to capture even the hardest heart. Instead, what poured from her mouth was a series of embarrassing stammers and stutters.

  “Well… I, um, I see. Yeah, it has been… a while. I've grown for a year since you last saw me!” Ihlia blurted.

  “Uhm, quite so. I mean, since it's been a year since we last saw one another, I would assume as much my dear, hahaha!” Donovan laughed and pulled a lung full of smoke from his cigarette. Likely, the doctor assumed my stammering was a simple sarcastic jest. At the time, however, I tried my utmost to appear as sincere as possible. And I failed, miserably.

  “Yes, yes I suppose… um, that's right, ehehe…” Ihlia's voice quivered; she twirled a strand of hair around her finger and frantically searched for something to say. When it finally hit her, she abruptly shouted, “Ah, what were you two fighting about? It seemed important!”

  “Hm? Oh, yes, Bradich and I. It's just a difference in opinion. We're both looking for ways to make the world a better place. Each of us thinks the other's methods are a bit twisted or, in his case, he thinks mine are inefficient as well as twisted. I'm sure I'll get through to him in time, though. In time…” Donovan stepped forward and ran his fingers through Ihlia's silken, obsidian locks. I smiled as I watched.

  “Kiss me or something, you dunce…” How I wished Donovan acted so crudely at that time. Alas, much like Cairo becoming a temperate forest, it simply was not meant to be.

  “You really have become so beautiful, Ihlia. So very beautiful. Especially this hair… I love how long and lush it is. I see you and it brings me just a little peace from the constant stress of my work. Thank you.” Donovan and Ihlia maintained their locked gazes for several moments; eventually, however, Donovan stepped away from her.

  “Alas, even a small break could mean the difference between people living and dying, between happiness and sorrow. If you'll excuse me, my dear,” Donovan smiled. The depth of his wise brown eyes penetrated the young Ihlia's, and I remembered the thrum that rattled my chest as I witnessed it.

  Donovan shouldered the burdens of the world. The doctor felt the pain of the dwindling global population; he understood the men and women burdened by the war and sought to rectify the world's problems alone. He worked tirelessly, and as he did, I thought of little more than how to make him fall in love with me. The young Ihlia's face contorted with disgusted self-loathing.

  As Donovan turned down the hallway in the opposite direction from his brother, my younger self stared at his back until he disappeared into the dark corridors of the Nanite Research Dome. I, too, watched him vanish down the hall.

  “Oh Donovan… why didn't I realize in that moment… what was to come?” I sighed synchronously with my younger version. After a few moments of silent thought, Ihlia turned and walked back to the common quarters. The slow gait she adopted offered her plenty of time to think. By the time she reached the dim doorway of the common quarters, Ihlia remembered Shandi's advice and resolved herself.

  “Surprise!” As the sixteen-year-old girl crossed the threshold of
the room, a spray of confetti launched toward her from every direction. The Bald Eagles, in their entirety, leapt from various hiding places to shout. Despite the grave nature of the mission, each of Ihlia's comrades donned a festive attitude.

  Even Bit, the normally stoic dark warrior, painted a wide smile across his face and wore a pointed party hat. The twins tossed miniature explosives into the air that burst forth streamers and fragrant smokes. Jace balanced a cake atop a large platter on his palm. Gunther's, Welsch's, and Loxley's hands formed cylindrical cups around their mouths. Their apparent competition of who possessed the loudest shout vibrated the room's metal walls.

  Shandi stood in the center of common quarters with a gentle smile and her hands clasped together excitedly, and Bradich leaned against a shadowy corner on the far end of the room. Despite his obvious fluster from the passionate conversation with his brother, his reassuring smile calmed my younger self. The warmth that flooded me as I remembered the surprise party might have brought tears to my eyes if they were capable of crying any longer. My younger version, unlike me, possessed the ability to cry rather well, and she exercised that ability with the happiest tears I remembered crying in my life.

  “But…” Ihlia whimpered as she rushed forward to throw herself into her comrades' embraces, “my birthday's not for a few more days!”

  File 25: Want or Love?

  “I know it's not much, Sug', but we decided to throw your party early to surprise you!” Shandi giggled softly as the young Ihlia dove into her arms.

  Ihlia's allies had lavishly decorated the room. The colorful array of balloons, streamers, and paper mache struck me as fairly juvenile in my dreamlike recollection. To the young Ihlia, however, the collection of party favors and sentiment behind her allies' premature surprise party touched the most vulnerable places in her emotional vault. As my former self buried her face into Shandi's massive bosom, the other members of the Bald Eagles offered various gestures of affection befitting their personalities.