Author's Note: Don't ask me how I got this installment done so soon, because my life is a rollercoaster at the moment. Alas, as usual, this has not been edited, so please PM me any boo boos if you have the time. And thank you so much for reviewing! It's like Mercury snacks to me. :)

Chapter 25

The navigation systems said they were approaching Med Lab One, but Jennifer could hardly discern where it lay among the ruins of the old abandoned city. It was underground, perfectly concealed from rebel forces who would have paid a great price to get inside it and gain all the intelligence it held. Primarily a chemical lab, it had forged relationships to nearly all sectors of research in Lord Dread's empire. The products coming out of Med Lab One not only enhanced the performance of human warriors, they also provided a means to systematically eliminate clusters of remaining human populations with potent chemicals and biological weapons.

The rebels, though, were nomadic. As soon as one sector had been deemed clear of any population, the rebels would wait until the mech units were gone and reoccupy the area. It was a plague to any overunit assigned to clear an area. There was simply too much ground to cover with the limited number of overunits available. While the mechs were intelligent, they lacked the understanding of how cunning rebels could be. Overunits were required to lead them in more complex operations to allow for deviations from standard operating protocols when required.

The atmospheric ash was more concentrated in the area around Med Lab One. The winds aloft were not strong enough to dissipate it. The setting sun that was quickly dipping below the western horizon gave the city a grayish hue to it that made it difficult to discern the landing zone from the surrounding burned out buildings at high altitudes. Only at the last few seconds of approach did Jennifer see the muted green beacons on the roof of the complex. She banked the ship at a fifteen-degree angle to the right and began a cautious vertical descent to the pad. The touchdown was smooth and gentle with hardly a bump rocking the ship as she stuck the landing and powered down the throttle to the off position. She began the post-landing shutdown of the flight systems.

The captain looked over at her and grinned. "Keep this up, and you'll be our lord's personal pilot in no time."

Jennifer gave a polite smile at the compliment, but the last thing she wanted to be was Lord Dread's transportation. It was ironic, she knew, because she would have been very honored to do that before being assigned to Alaceda. Now, she had failure hanging over her head and no real way to offer explanation for it.

"Thank you, sir," she said, systematically engaging the safety protocols that were required once a ship had landed.

"Go," he said. "I'll finish up here."

She stopped the safety process, lowering her hand from the overhead panel. She could not help but to voice what had weighed on her mind since learning what had happened in the hold. "What about Overunit Pryatel? Doctor Peterson will be expecting him."

The captain smiled at her, trying to put her at ease. "You let me worry about that. For now, you just do what you're told to do until they kick you loose."

"Yes, sir," she said heavily, though she had little confidence in that plan.

He saw her distress and gave her a playful punch in the shoulder, trying to lighten her mood. "Hey, you did good, pilot. I expect great things from you once you get your wings. That was a hell of a good fight back there."

Jennifer appreciated his confidence in her. It had been so long since she felt any sense of accomplishment at anything that she could not help but smile. "Any one you can walk away from, right, sir?" she said, chanting an age-old pilot's adage.

"That's the ticket," he said, grinning congenially. "See? You're even starting to sound like a pilot already." He gave a motion with his head. "Go on, get out of here."

She climbed out of the right seat but paused before leaving the cockpit. Jennifer turned toward the captain. She could not just leave him with a sense of ingratitude.

"Sir?"

He looked back at her, but he seemed to read her thoughts perfectly. She did not have to thank him out loud for what he and the co-pilot had dared to do. It did not matter that Overunit Pryatel probably had a terrible reputation among other officers. It did not matter how helpless she felt when he had been touching her. What mattered was that she felt like she had just been brought into the fold of the service she had wanted so much – to be a pilot and to take to the skies. Pilots protected their own. She liked that. It felt perfect, like it was the moment of belonging she had waited for all her life, a belonging that surpassed even her membership and rank in the Dread Youth.

He smiled and gave her a nod. The corners of his eyes pulled up, and he gave her a quick wink. "Don't mention it."

She returned to the hold where the co-pilot had already gotten her gear bag from stowage and had it waiting for her. She thanked him, and he shook her hand ever so quickly, not saying a word to her.

The ramp opened, and Jennifer was presented with a dark and dirty view of bombed out buildings, archaeological artifacts of the majestic structures they once were. She could see a few mech patrols far in the distance from her vantage point, but there were no other signs of life or inhabitants in the area. No rebels burned fires for warmth, no clashes between mech and human units could be heard. Just the slight wind that blew in the night gave the slightest hint of natural movement of anything at all.

Jennifer stepped off the ramp of the ship and down onto the landing deck. A technician in a blue lab coat stood waiting to greet her.

He was painfully nervous, clearly not the caliber of service material. However, he must have had some intelligence, for he was assigned to a research facility. He served some purpose, but it was unlikely that it was anything more than an assistant's role, more fetching than doing. In some ways, he reminded her of Ian, except Ian was intelligent and as technically proficient as she was. The technician, she suspected, was far from that.

The technician did not speak a word. He pointed his hand in invitation to rooftop access doorway. Once he opened the door for her, she realized it was a transport that led straight down through the building and into the lab. A control panel on the wall indicated there were twelve sublevels in all that lay below the surface of the old city. Without any comment, he tapped the panel for the fourth floor and brought his hands behind his back, clasping his fingers together in a parade rest stance. He seemed quite dutiful, as most technicians were. Although she was an academy cadet, she outranked him by far and reserved the authority to issue orders to him and any other technician that were to be followed to the letter.

The lift descended downward in a smooth motion. She could hardly hear any of the mechanical works that drove it, a testament to the evolving excellence in design of all things machine – even a simple lift.

The fourth floor was busier than she had expected, but it was still winding down from daily activity. The nightly rest time was approaching. Several Youth moved about, on their way to their destinations within Med Lab One. She stepped from the lift and followed the technician. She hitched up her gear bag, suddenly feeling its entire weight as it dug into shoulder. The pull on her side was painful, though she made it a point to not give any display of discomfort. The technician led her down the hall to the right. She could see it was the dormitory level, with rooms on the right side of the hall. Information displays lined the left side, projecting schedules, data, duty rosters, and threat data in colorful charts and lines that efficiently conveyed everything one needed to know after being assigned to Med Lab One.

The lighting was subdued, raining down illumination in dusky trapezoids that vanished into the dark tiles of the floor that seemed to consume the photons. Recycled air pushed through the ventilation system, producing a scent that was much different from that in Alaceda. The mountain smelled of wet earth that was somehow pleasing and fresh. Med Lab One's air was not stale, but it had a slight antiseptic smell to it that reminded her she was back in a real Dread facility, one that followed regulations and valued proficiency at following rules. It was an olfactory signal that it was time to get back to being the top-ranked cadet that she had been before the insanity of Alaceda.

Jennifer took comfort that each room appeared to house only one occupant. This was by design, of course, because it isolated each resident and made him or her more easily observed. Each person was responsible for the contents in the quarters and for the condition it was in at any given time. Surprise inspections were nothing new to her. She, in fact, liked them because they kept her sharp and in tune with her training and destiny. She was slated to be the best of all cadets that graduation year for a reason.

The technician led her to a room at the end of the hall, the very last domicile on the right. He pointed that it was hers, nodded, and turned on his heel. Whereas all the other units were side by side in uniform succession, a maintenance compartment that spanned the length of one room separated this one from the res. The room, itself, was sparse and orderly, just as she had come to know at the academy. It had a communications and work console, gear closet, lavatory, and bunk. Most of all, it was regulation. It was the way things were meant to be – free of chaos and anarchy and experimental rats. Jennifer craved the comfort of returning to what she had always known and desired. Her experiences at Alaceda were a blur of moments should was prepared to put behind her. Yes, there were probably serious consequences that awaited her for her initial failures, but she had a chance to redeem herself at Med Lab One when the final analysis of Doctor Tobias' work was begun.

She entered the room and dropped her bag onto the bed. The door closed automatically behind her, sealing her inside the silent compartment. She tapped the console to see what her immediate orders were. There was a swell of relief in her body as she saw that she had some down time to get herself in order. It felt like ages since she had been able to sleep, and Doctor Peterson had given her twenty-four hours arrive at the station and get oriented with its layout. That was standard procedure when being assigned to any new base. Even Doctor Tobias had followed that protocol. Sometimes, its greatest value was the chance to rest after long transits.

Jennifer opened her gear bag and stowed her uniforms, taking the time to make sure they were put away perfectly in the closets. Exercise clothes had been placed in the closet in anticipation of her arrival. All cadets were expected to remain in peak physical condition at all times.

She changed into bedclothes, tired and hurting, sore both physically and mentally from all she had been through. Her body was shutting down, a defense mechanism from anyone else inflicting any more turmoil on her in any way. She decided she could not experience it if her brain had been laid to rest for eight hours. Jennifer lay down on the bed. She turned out the lights and closed her eyes, letting down her guard and trusting that she was safe to allow herself much needed rest in the absolute silence of her new quarters.

The absence of sound was like a cocoon, enveloping her in a sweet caress that let each nerve relax. She realized that her shoulders were still tensed, as if still in recoil from Overunit Pryatel's touch. She forced those muscles to relax, feeling them fall flat against the edge of her pillow. In one last act of preparation for sleep, she imagined all the thoughts in her mind as a canvas that had to be erased. Mentally, she scrubbed it one element at a time, eliminating them from view and her thoughts. Some were more difficult than others to purge, but eventually they all disappeared until only a blank surface remained. Once that was done, Jennifer began drifting off to sleep, cognizant of the fact that she was floating toward being unconscious.

It was peaceful – for a while, anyway. The canvas remained blissfully blank until she abruptly found herself on the side of the mountain again.

The refugees lay in a pile, all of them looking at her with dead eyes, all of them in a silent scream. Overunit Pryatel, who stood nearby, knelt down by one of them. He reached down to the young woman who still had the girl clutched in her arms, and pulled her up by the hair. The child dropped carelessly to the ground. He held the woman up in display, as if she weighed nothing at all. Her hand rose up, and she pointed directly at Jennifer with an accusing, mud-stained finger. Likewise, Overunit Pryatel pointed at the cadet with an accusing hand. When Jennifer looked, all the refugees were pointing at her, their mouths open in an astonished but silent shriek. All she could hear was the rush of the wind blowing so loud that she reached up to cover her ears and protect them from the biting cold and sound. When she did that, the howl of the wind ceased, only to be replaced by the quick thumping of her pulse. One beat followed another until it was almost one continuous sound. Tears ran down the faces of the refugees. Droplets fell from their skin toward the ground. When she looked down, she saw that she was standing in water that sloshed up and over her boots.

There was movement to her right. Jennifer looked to find Helene Tobias sitting on a rock at the edge of the precipice, shaking her head in disapproval. The doctor pulled her robes tightly around her as the wind began picking up strength. The current of air kicked up the water in a spray until it obliterated Jennifer's view of the doctor.

When she looked back at the refugees and Overunit Pryatel, they were not there. Then she looked down and saw them below her feet, drowning as if trapped under ice. They were encased in water and clawed upward, struggling to find an escape, beating their fists against the invisible barrier that had them captive.

The brown-haired woman suddenly propelled herself upward, breaking the surface of the water. Her hand was so cold that Jennifer could feel the chill through her boot. The woman latched on to the cadet's leg and pulled downward with a hard yank.

Jennifer lost her footing with the surprise assault, slipping into the dark depths of the water that should have only been a few inches deep. She was suddenly pulled under the water with them, fighting to escape the grasp of the woman. Down, down she went, with more hands from the refugees reaching in to keep her from making it to the surface for even one quick breath of precious air. She fought toward the light, but it was fading fast, blocked by outstretched arms that owned her completely as she was pushed down even further.

Then she saw it – a hand reaching down through the tangle of arms and bodies, haloed in a white jumpsuit. She grabbed the strong limb in desperation and was pulled upward, amid refugees that fought to keep her in their possession, until she broke the surface and was on solid ground again. She sucked in a frantic breath of air and sputtered out water that had battered her lungs.

Silence. All the noise swiftly stopped, even her heart. The wind was gone, and all the madness had come to an abrupt halt. If was as if she had gone deaf.

Jennifer turned to find the refugees piled on land again, their eyes and mouths now closed. This time, Overunit Pryatel lay amongst them in a bloody heap, his uniform all but destroyed by the impact of his body on rocky terrain.

Off to the left, a man sat leaning against the wall of the cave, his knees drawn up to support his hands. Chief Bofor, dressed in his white mechanic's jumpsuit that was horribly stained with blood and gore, raised his head and addressed her with dead eyes. He brought his hands together and began to clap, one thunderous slap at a time that echoed off the stone walls and bounced around in infinite repetition. He repeated the action, sped up to a grotesque rate until the sound of his applause was a rage in her ears.

Jennifer started, suddenly going blind. She was completely disoriented. There was instantaneous darkness, like there had been under the water, only she was not under water. She was cognizant of the ventilation system kicking on overhead and the dim light coming from the communication console. She realized the pounding she heard was her pulse raging in her chest and neck as she slipped from the nightmare and back into reality. She was in her bunk, breathing in rapid gasps as she got her bearings. There was no water and no refugees. She was no longer in the mountain but in Med Lab One, where she had been transferred hours earlier to assist Doctor Peterson.

She got out of bed, gingerly holding her side, and made her way quickly into the lavatory. She turned on the light and looked with desperation into the mirror to assure herself that she was dry and unscathed. Her eyes were wide and anxious, taking in the details of the room so she could assure herself that it was only a dream, that it was a culmination of things she could not explain.

The clock showed that she had slept only four hours, but Jennifer felt like she had a dangerous amount of pent-up energy that she needed to get rid of before it did damage to her. She went to the closet of the main room, turning on the overhead light for comfort, and found exercise clothes that had been put there before her arrival. She donned the dark blue pants and white tank top, carefully riding the shirt over her sore ribs. The athletic shoes were comfortable and were according to her recorded size in her service record. They were a comfortable contrast to the duty boots she normally wore. She stepped into the hall, stopping briefly to check the information panel closest to her dorm for directions to the exercise facility.

The exercise room was one level up, an entire floor dedicated to physical fitness. Jennifer rode the lift up to the level without incident. A runner machine was on the far side of the room, tucked away from the prying eyes of anyone who might pass by the area. She went to it and stepped on its platform. She began walking at quick clip, increasing her pace as her muscles warmed to the task. Then she was running, running faster than she ever had in her life, she was willing to bet. She had no idea how long she kept her pace, but she continued until her legs felt swift with motion. Jennifer's side ached with each impact of her shoes on the machine, but at least it was a sign she was awake, she thought. It seemed a fair trade to exchange one pain for another – one physical for one that was deeply disturbing in her mind. In time, she knew, they would eventually cancel one another out and fade into distant memories. For now, she had to allow the physical to overtake the mental so that she could once again feel in control and accomplish what she had been tasked to do by Lord Dread.

The minutes on the clock at the far end of the exercise room ticked by, one after another, until an hour had passed. Sweat rained down her skin like a cleansing wash that signaled she had returned to the normalcy of being a Dread Youth. It spurred her on to run more until her body was finally exhausted of all its extra energy and anxiety. Jennifer slowed her pace, cooling down until she eventually stepped off the runner and onto the floor. Her legs felt wobbly as she stood on solid ground. Her side was aching with a ferocity she welcomed but would have to attend to back in her quarters. She did not want to report to the infirmary for treatment, as that would surely garner more attention than she wanted or needed.

It was nearly zero-two-hundred hours, and Med Lab One appeared almost abandoned in the late hour. She passed a lone Youth ferrying reports from one location to the next. He acknowledged her as she strode along, and she returned the courtesy in kind. There was no sense in creating animosity or suspicion among those already at the facility. She wanted to fit in again, to reclaim her status as Youth Leader and enjoy all the rewards that went with it, everything she had earned with her hard work. It was her right and destiny, despite nightmares and images that would take some time to quell.

The ache in her side was growing at an alarming rate, and was going to require attention whether or not she wanted it. She stopped at an information panel and checked for the infirmary location. It was located on the second floor, mid level to the facility. Jennifer stepped into the lift and sent it to the second floor. She stepped off and found the infirmary was directly across from the lift shaft. It was a wise layout, as it eliminated the need for travel down corridors in the event of a medical emergency.

The lighting was bright on the second floor. It was an area that was not meant to be shadowed or calm. There was a need for clarity in order to handle emergencies that presented to the staff of that section. That started with being able to see everything in a crisp light.

Jennifer pushed through the double doors that led to a small triage area of the infirmary. A medical technician sat in a chair behind a desk, processing reports on a terminal. She was young, but still a few years older than Jennifer. She looked up from her work.

"How may I help you?"

"I strained a muscle in the exercise room. I need a cold pack."

"Do you require medical treatment?" the technician asked efficiently.

"No," Jennifer said. "Just the pack."

The technician stood from her desk. "Wait here, please," she said, inviting Jennifer to a row of chairs along the wall. Then she disappeared around a corner.

She could hear the technician exchanging words with someone in the treatment area, but the conversation was muffled. She could not decipher the information being relayed, but there was a tone about it she did not like. Jennifer stood, ready to abandon the whole idea when a physician appeared, followed by the technician. He was an officer, tall and stoic and in charge of his shift. His blonde hair was neatly combed and cut to specification for male personnel.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. "I understand you require assistance?" he queried.

Jennifer knew instantly he was not the type who could be dodged with half-hearted answers. "Only a cold pack, sir."

He scrutinized her features with a careful eye. "You're new here," he declared.

"Yes, sir," she answered, cringing inward as she knew what was coming. "Youth Leader Chase. I reported only a few hours ago to Med Lab One."

"I'm Doctor Arlen. You do know you're supposed to report for a physical upon arrival at a new duty station, correct?"

"Yes, sir, but the hour was late. I thought it best to address that requirement in the morning."

He gave a sigh. "Seeing as how you're here, let's get it done now. Then you'll be free to report in the morning. It won't take long, and I don't have anything better to do at the moment," he said, his tone softening just a bit to coax her into agreeing.

She knew it was no use to argue with him. He was a superior officer who was making a strong suggestion that equated to an order.

"Yes, sir," she answered, feeling depressed that she had even decided to come to the infirmary at all.

The technician led Jennifer to side room and had her sit on the examination table.

The procedure was to be simple, as it had been at every duty assignment the cadet had so far experienced. A technician would take all the standard vital signs – blood pressure, pulse, oxygen levels, and heart rate. Then, a blood sample would be drawn for a cursory check of any disease that required attention. After that came the little chat about how she was feeling and if there was anything the doctor needed to know that had not come to light in the initial examination. The same chat was then repeated with the doctor to make sure there were no discrepancies in what a patient had said to the technician.

However, to her surprise, the technician left the room, leaving just Doctor Arlen and Jennifer. He pulled over a short stool and sat down in front of her. He began doing the standard tests, noting the results on his data pad as he went. The doctor did not speak to her at all until it came time for blood to be drawn. He held up a syringe.

"Do you have a preference of which arm you'd like me to use?" he asked.

Jennifer almost raised her left to him when she realized that was the arm where the tracking chip has been implanted. She quickly switched her choice when it occurred to her he might detect scarring, and that would certainly raise questions she had no way of answering. She turned her left palm down on her thigh so that the incision area would not be visible.

The doctor took the blood sample from the arm she offered and filed it for testing. He checked the data pad for the results of the other tests.

"Your blood pressure is elevated," he said with an air of curiosity.

"I was exercising," she suggested, hoping it was enough.

He murmured that he understood her. "You said you needed a cold pack. Why?"

"I strained a muscle," she said.

"Where?"

"In the exercise room," Jennifer answered.

He gave a look as though he was not happy she had stated the obvious. "Yes, we've established that. Where on your body, Cadet?"

Jennifer knew she could not tell him it was anywhere on her lower body, such as a knee or ankle. She had forgotten to think that far ahead in her quest for one simple cold pack and had shown no sign of a limp when she first entered the infirmary. She had no choice but to show him. There was little she could do to hide it, because the injury was starting to be debilitating. All she wanted was a lousy ice pack, but she could not even handle that simple task.

She blew out a frustrated sigh. "My right side, sir."

The doctor reached out and carefully lifted the hem of her tank top. He did not have to lift up very much to see the genesis of discoloration that plagued her skin. When the injured area was fully revealed, he gave a scowl.

"What happened?" he demanded, focusing on varying shades of purple, black and blue on her skin.

How does one explain something like this, she mused inwardly. "A close-range stun, sir."

"Here, in this facility?" he said, alarmed.

"No, sir. It happened prior to my arrival. I didn't think it was that serious."

The doctor apparently thought it was serious enough, because he launched a series of procedures to determine the extent of damage. Several scans later, he gave her the results.

"You have a hairline fracture in one of your ribs. You're lucky that's the worst of it. There very easily could have been internal bleeding from such a wound."

Unlikely, she thought, because Helene Tobias was a master of procedure, action and anatomy. The shot was well placed to avoid such damage.

"If you'll just give me a cold pack, sir, I'll be on my way. I'm due to report to Doctor Peterson in the morning."

He shook his head. "You're not reporting anywhere for a few days," he informed her. He made a note on a data pad. "I'm restricting you to quarters for some recuperation time."

"Sir," she protested, "I'll be doing light duty with Doctor Peterson. It's just… very important that I complete my tasks here."

Doctor Arlen saw the determination in her eyes. He relented, albeit begrudgingly. "Fine, report this morning as ordered, but I want to see you back here in two days for an evaluation. In the meantime, I'll treat what I can and give you pain medication."

"And an ice pack?" she dared to add to the list.

"And an ice pack," he droned, as if he had lost his ability to tolerate her gallantry in carrying out her orders.

He left her to sit on the examination table while he gathered some treatment supplies from the outer area. He returned quickly and applied a binding to the bruised area, adjusting it when she indicated it was a little too snug for comfort.

Doctor Arlen reached into the pocket of his lab coat and withdrew a small bottle that contained pills. He handed it to her. "These are for pain. Don't take them during working hours, though," he admonished. "They'll put you out like a light."

Jennifer took the bottle and thanked him for his services. She then requested permission to be dismissed, which was granted.

She got on the lift for the fourth floor, stepping off when it arrived there. She walked down the hall, pausing here and there to read the different information displays of Dread activity. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the luxuries of information flow that it was almost decadent in nature to have access it in such abundance. Jennifer read every word, every nuance of data that was there, committing it to memory and cataloging the state of the empire based on the statistics. Dread holdings were growing as the machines began to take over and control nearly all sectors. They had the advantage in sheer numbers, whereas the human beings were faltering in their ranks. That was not to say they were not fighting well against the mech forces, but their limited flesh bodies would only last for so long before they succumbed to injury, disease, age or ultimately death. The Dread empire was strong, growing in power each day, advanced by technology and the sheer will of the machines. There was little in the way of stopping the destiny that had already been put in motion.

Back in her quarters, she opened the closet and placed the vial of pills inside it, hiding it in the shadows of the back right corner. She had no intention of ever using them because she could not afford a moment of dull reflexes. She had to be perfect in everything she did from that point forward. If there was pain, it only meant that she was awake to feel it.

And sometimes, pain was the only way to know one was alive.