An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
Chapter 21. Closing in on the objective
Asha raised a purple-gloved hand, and I followed her purposefully towards the back door. For some reason, people seemed to be happy to give us space. The filter mask was starting to stick to my face. I was sweating in the mostly-sealed plastic suit, and it was only going to get worse.
Two security guards, in gray uniforms were standing next to a sign that said "Smoking Area." One left immediately. I guess he didn't like the way we were dressed.
"It's all clear," said the other. I recognized him from the cameras. Lamont.
"Thanks," said my partner in crime. She waved her sensor box in his direction. "You're clean. . . for now."
"Go on in, then." He looked a little pale.
I held the door, and Asha stepped through. I glanced back, and Lamont was backing nervously away. He wasn't going to follow us in. I let the door swing closed behind me.
My breath whistled through the filter mask, which I was wearing to maintain the illusion that the air was full of some sort of biological toxin. (which probably wouldn't have bothered me anyway, if the people who cooked up my DNA did their job correctly.)
However, this deception had a price. You can only suck so much air through a filter like that. The limit on oxygen would also limit our speed. Asha was moving at a steady, controlled walk. I'd be a little faster, but not for long. What was really irritating me was the sound, and the hood messing with my hearing.
"These stairs," I told Asha. The door was unlocked, and the lights were still on. She followed me down three flights, and then we were facing the door with "B3" stenciled carefully on its beige surface.
"Let's go, then." She glanced back up the stairs.
"Quiet for just a sec." I took off the filter mask, and let the suit's hood slide off my head. I could hear Asha's quick breathing, and mine. I put my ear to the door. I felt a little happier – I couldn't hear footsteps. The faint sounds of machinery let me know that the power was still on. Something was still working to pump air and water through the building.
**
Light was shining redly through my closed eyelids, and the surface underneath me was cool and slick. I could hear the rush of air through ductwork, and the echo of one drugged-slow heart beat. Mine.
I opened my eyes to a white metal ceiling, far, far above me.
I let my head roll to one side. The floor was concrete, painted in a bright yellow. The walls were concrete block, painted a pale green. No windows.
There was just one door. It was a smooth, featureless blue metal surface. There was no doorknob.
**
I opened the door, and looked left and right. A seemingly endless hallway with identical doors. "It makes a left turn at the end," offered Asha. She pointed.
We went. The doors were numbered. B370. . . B371 . . . B372. . . The steady white-noise hiss of the ventilation let us know that we weren't actually being buried alive.
"What's with you and Roxanne?" asked Asha, peeling her hood back and letting the filter mask hang around her neck. "She's the professional here. So why did you want me along?"
Is that a nosy question? "She's pregnant. Not very far along, but I don't think. . ."
"Wait, stop," said Asha. "I don't need all the tactical analysis. Is the baby yours?"
What? "Well, to start with, it's not a baby for at least another six months, and. . ." I tried to figure out what a normal human might really be trying to find out. "How can it belong to anyone but her?" I must be missing something.
Asha snickered. "I don't know how they did things where you came from, kid, but out here, it takes two people to make a baby."
"I KNOW that!" I snapped. "It doesn't matter. She and I are a small, specialized combat team. Whatever the situation is, I back her up."
"So you are going to help her with a kid?" Her expression looked sympathetic, and her voice was calm.
"Yes." I felt for the cell phone, and realized that it was in a pocket under the plastic suit. Maybe nothing would go wrong and no one would call. "I'm feeling darn weird about it. It's way outside my training."
"I think that's the way everyone feels about their first child, Jack. The two of you are going to do just fine."
The hallway ended at a "T". Stainless steel vault doors were spaced along an expanse of beige-painted concrete block wall. Suddenly I knew I was deep underground.
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
Chapter 21. Closing in on the objective
Asha raised a purple-gloved hand, and I followed her purposefully towards the back door. For some reason, people seemed to be happy to give us space. The filter mask was starting to stick to my face. I was sweating in the mostly-sealed plastic suit, and it was only going to get worse.
Two security guards, in gray uniforms were standing next to a sign that said "Smoking Area." One left immediately. I guess he didn't like the way we were dressed.
"It's all clear," said the other. I recognized him from the cameras. Lamont.
"Thanks," said my partner in crime. She waved her sensor box in his direction. "You're clean. . . for now."
"Go on in, then." He looked a little pale.
I held the door, and Asha stepped through. I glanced back, and Lamont was backing nervously away. He wasn't going to follow us in. I let the door swing closed behind me.
My breath whistled through the filter mask, which I was wearing to maintain the illusion that the air was full of some sort of biological toxin. (which probably wouldn't have bothered me anyway, if the people who cooked up my DNA did their job correctly.)
However, this deception had a price. You can only suck so much air through a filter like that. The limit on oxygen would also limit our speed. Asha was moving at a steady, controlled walk. I'd be a little faster, but not for long. What was really irritating me was the sound, and the hood messing with my hearing.
"These stairs," I told Asha. The door was unlocked, and the lights were still on. She followed me down three flights, and then we were facing the door with "B3" stenciled carefully on its beige surface.
"Let's go, then." She glanced back up the stairs.
"Quiet for just a sec." I took off the filter mask, and let the suit's hood slide off my head. I could hear Asha's quick breathing, and mine. I put my ear to the door. I felt a little happier – I couldn't hear footsteps. The faint sounds of machinery let me know that the power was still on. Something was still working to pump air and water through the building.
**
Light was shining redly through my closed eyelids, and the surface underneath me was cool and slick. I could hear the rush of air through ductwork, and the echo of one drugged-slow heart beat. Mine.
I opened my eyes to a white metal ceiling, far, far above me.
I let my head roll to one side. The floor was concrete, painted in a bright yellow. The walls were concrete block, painted a pale green. No windows.
There was just one door. It was a smooth, featureless blue metal surface. There was no doorknob.
**
I opened the door, and looked left and right. A seemingly endless hallway with identical doors. "It makes a left turn at the end," offered Asha. She pointed.
We went. The doors were numbered. B370. . . B371 . . . B372. . . The steady white-noise hiss of the ventilation let us know that we weren't actually being buried alive.
"What's with you and Roxanne?" asked Asha, peeling her hood back and letting the filter mask hang around her neck. "She's the professional here. So why did you want me along?"
Is that a nosy question? "She's pregnant. Not very far along, but I don't think. . ."
"Wait, stop," said Asha. "I don't need all the tactical analysis. Is the baby yours?"
What? "Well, to start with, it's not a baby for at least another six months, and. . ." I tried to figure out what a normal human might really be trying to find out. "How can it belong to anyone but her?" I must be missing something.
Asha snickered. "I don't know how they did things where you came from, kid, but out here, it takes two people to make a baby."
"I KNOW that!" I snapped. "It doesn't matter. She and I are a small, specialized combat team. Whatever the situation is, I back her up."
"So you are going to help her with a kid?" Her expression looked sympathetic, and her voice was calm.
"Yes." I felt for the cell phone, and realized that it was in a pocket under the plastic suit. Maybe nothing would go wrong and no one would call. "I'm feeling darn weird about it. It's way outside my training."
"I think that's the way everyone feels about their first child, Jack. The two of you are going to do just fine."
The hallway ended at a "T". Stainless steel vault doors were spaced along an expanse of beige-painted concrete block wall. Suddenly I knew I was deep underground.