As always, the disclaimers are located in the author's notes back in the first chapter.
-- Insurrection --
The door to Doctor Kelley's personal quarters was sealed: without the proper passcode, her foolish coworkers couldn't interrupt her work. While the woman preferred keeping her own company in the best of times, considering the circumstances, it seemed another worthwhile precaution to take.
Kelley didn't feel like explaining herself to anyone.
Text flew across the screen; the processor whirring muted accompaniment to furious typing. Files came up in rapid-time to be transferred to the waiting disc drive. Deletion was risky -- better not to leave too much untouched -- but she did take care to erase records of some of the more… questionable areas she'd accessed.
Far as Kelley was concerned, her role here was finished.
The project had deteriorated to where salvaging it was a laughable concept. The original concept behind its creation seemed an unreachable goal; after the initial 'malfunction', the focus had gradually shifted to finding a solution -- highly difficult when you weren't able to pin down the actual problem.
All but two of the original test subjects were dead. …Two out of seven cyborgs that had survived the early stages of the project, and they'd already been down one by the time she was assigned…
Fury and frustration over how matters continued to erode despite the efforts of her and her colleagues were overshadowed now by a grim certainty: they were going to fail.
Despite being completely convinced that this was an act of sabotage, Kelley hadn't been able to turn up any hard evidence to show who was involved. All she had were her suspicions -- and in such a tense atmosphere, those were hardly unusual or concrete. They wouldn't be enough to sway the commander once he finally turned his attention back on her team.
If anything, pointing fingers without proof would only serve to get her killed a few seconds before the rest of her useless coworkers.
Rather than face that impending confrontation -- more inevitability, now -- Kelley opted for the only road she saw leading out.
Some of the other scientists had already vanished; she didn't bother musing on where they might have ended up. She held no illusions about their chances: runaways and traitors generally didn't last long.
There was one well-known exception, of course… but since he surrounded himself with stolen technology and prototypes, his continued existence was… understandable. He would only last as long as the rebellion, however, so it was only a matter of time before the exception became another example.
…Amazing how understanding you were damned either way prompted people to take insane risks.
The disk disappeared into an inside pocket immediately after all the data finished loading. Kelley closed out all the programs she'd accessed, painstakingly erasing all the last traces she could find of her presence there. By the time her computer finished shutting down, she was already standing: flicking off the power, the scientist cinched her labcoat and turned to the door.
Her features automatically schooled themselves into the carefully guarded expression she'd honed during her years of service: perpetual, professional frown, narrowed eyes sharpened steel behind the dark glasses perched high on her nose. At least she wouldn't have to pretend nonchalance, with matters the way they were; her remaining coworkers would likely assume she remained dedicated to uncovering and remedying the setbacks plaguing their project.
There was no regret to be had over leaving them behind. In Kelley's view, this hardly qualified as abandonment: she'd done all she could to try and prevent what was coming. If they didn't have the common sense to try and get out on their own… well, then they deserved what was coming.
The organization had a way of weeding out the unworthy.
Now, all that remained was going through the motions until an opportunity to slip away unnoticed presented itself. Given their recent dismal track record, Kelley figured it wouldn't be too long before another 'accident' diverted everyone's attention. Ideally, the confusion would be enough of a cover.
…Then again, she wasn't exactly able to call her situation in general 'ideal'.
Head held high, Doctor Kelley returned to work.
In another chamber, Doctor Williamson tilted back his chair in an incongruously lazy sprawl. A smirk crooked one side of the scientist's mouth, pink slip of a tongue darting out to wet his lips.
The monitor flickered, running through the programs required to set up the next step in her plan. A few seconds more, and a confirmation message appeared in the center of the screen.
Mimic smiled. Leaning forward, the shapeshifter keyed in the proper commands, then stood up, letting the computer process her orders. Once it was finished, she headed out the door, securing it behind her -- him.
Williamson had a meeting to get to.
As per custom, the laboratory was awash with horrendously bright, blinding lights that threw everything into stark, sterile clarity. It was easy to see why black-lensed glasses were standard-issue among the organization's scientists.
The specimen taking center stage for this gathering was the most recently deceased cyborg: the death had occurred just hours prior, much to the dismay of those overseeing the failing project. Instead of disposing of the remains, several doctors had decided to examine it, in hopes of discovering a more plausible, preventable reason than a mere 'accident'.
Judging from their dour expressions, Kelley figured they had found no more success in this route than she had after the previous incident. That wasn't comforting except in the most bitter, unfulfilling fashion.
Now the body lay on the medical slab dominating the center of the laboratory, a thin white sheet doing little to preserve its modesty. No doubt they had combed over every last inch, poking and prodding; no doubt somebody would call to do so again, in the name of being absolutely certain nothing had been missed.
From her station, Kelley had a clear view of the cyborg -- same as the rest of her brethren. Thanks to the cover, all that could really be seen at the moment was the specimen's head and upper body; she was already somewhat familiar with the face, thanks to repeated surveys of the containment center.
Drab brown hair, cut short and conservative; light tan skin to match… shame this one had failed; in better circumstances Kelley would have pegged this one to make a wonderful addition to their forces. The face was, ultimately, forgettable, the kind that faded into the crowd: perfectly suiting the project's intention…
As it was, however, she was more concerned with ensuring her fellow scientists believed she intended to help them find the answers. In truth, many had likely come to the same conclusion about their chances, but were still too stubborn or defeatist to do anything about it.
Kelley just wanted out.
She wasn't expecting the opportunity to present itself quite so soon.
When the alarms started blaring, the ceiling lights switched from glaring white to flashing red, plunging the laboratory into alternating beats of near-pitch blackness and crimson-flushed shadows. Scattered curses and shouts of confusion swiftly rose to underscore the wailing siren, as scientists scrambled from their stations.
Doctor Kelley knew instinctively what was happening, even before the mechanized voice kicked in, announcing in its clipped monotone the reason for the alarm: 'Critical Malfunction in Containment Area 061. Repeat…'
More curses and screams, and a wild scramble toward the exit as those who weren't struck numb with horror stampeded off to try and avert the inevitable. Rather than join her misguided coworkers, Kelley hurried toward the door with a markedly different destination in mind.
Those still disoriented by the shock of the alarm or too petrified by the import of the news lingered at their stations, desperately trying to piece together a way to respond to a situation spinning too wildly out of their control.
In all the chaos, nobody noticed how Doctor Williamson stood quietly at his station for a moment, or how the still-flashing lights contorted the man's smirk almost surreally.
Nor did anyone notice when, after one of the momentary plunges into darkness, he was gone when scarlet flooded the laboratory again.
The first scientist who reached the door didn't get it open on the first try: his shaking fingers struck the wrong buttons. Somebody shoved him aside, denying him a second chance so they could punch in the correct password and swipe their key, unsealing the chamber so their frantic brigade could charge inside.
Right after the first few got inside, the alarm cut off abruptly.
"…What the hell?"
Mutters of agreement rippled through the gathered, as the scientists spread out into the room. There was no obvious sign of what had triggered the alert: the two occupied containment vats hummed away quietly, contents seemingly undisturbed, undamaged.
Disbelieving, they set about their investigation. But with little to go on other than the alarm itself, and nothing readily apparent to their searching fingers and scanning eyes, frustration was quick to set in.
"Nothing!" and the heavyset man who finally snarled this aloud slammed a meaty fist down on one of the empty tanks for emphasis. "There's nothing here!"
"Thank God it was a false alarm," another sighed, shoulders slumping.
"Hardly…" a dark-haired doctor murmured. Cupping his chin in one hand, he went on, "Something triggered that alarm; we just need to figure out what…"
"Bah! Waste of time!"
"Don't like this at all," someone hissed into a receptive ear, prompted by the nodding of his companion. "Something's not right…"
"Understatement of the year," snorted a less amenable bystander.
"Damn faulty alarms…"
"Doubt this was an accident…"
"Better double-check the wiring while we're here…"
As scattered conversations served to further break up the group, several continued to investigate, undeterred by their coworkers' seeming dismissal. A few of the stragglers outside started back through the halls, eager to continue the interrupted meeting.
Then the alarms resumed, the ensuing uproar all but drowning out the slam of a resealing door.
The small cluster of scientists that had formed around the panel outside jumped, startled; the first to recover from the surprise started entering his code. After punching in the password, he turned to see one of his colleagues trying to get inside, only to have the portal remained sealed.
"…Huh…?"
A second try yielded similar results; another doctor leaned over to try his hand at it next, only to suffer the same lack of response. A loud banging was starting to come from the other side of the stubborn door, courtesy of their less patient coworkers.
One of the more resourceful men outside jogged off down the hall, returning a few minutes later with a couple of robotic guards trailing behind. Seeing his escort, the rest backed away from the door, an elderly gentleman nursing a smirk.
"Breaking down the door?"
"You have a better idea?" shot back the younger scientist, before turning to address the blunt-featured robot in the front of the group. Pointing to the stuck portal, he began, "Alright, you…"
A burst of gunfire ensured he wouldn't finish his command.
Kelley hadn't stopped running when the alarm cut short; if anything, the sudden cessation forced her to quicken her pace. Privately, she cursed her luck -- if she was discovered missing after a false alert…!
In a strange way, therefore, she was almost relieved to hear it start up again.
The halls were empty, almost disturbingly so: the doctor was accustomed to seeing the usual cybernetic guards posted at every intersection, and while their absence meant she was free to run, heading all the faster to her destination… She couldn't shake the image of a battalion lying in wait somewhere, ready to open fire on any would-be deserters.
Hence her pointed avoidance of the main docks. Trying to escape the organization was difficult enough as it was without adding the downright suicidal impulse of stealing one of their most advanced vessels…
…Besides, all she needed was transport out for one.
The smaller, personal craft were kept in separate docks: most belonged to the higher-ranked members. A bit of discrete hacking provided Kelley with the codes of one belonging to a particularly unctuous so-called superior of hers; hopefully by the time he discovered the loss and connected it to her absence, she'd have landed and left it far behind her.
She honestly wasn't sure how far she'd be able to get before the Black Ghost tracked her down, but found that uncertainty more appealing than the mess she was about to leave behind.
She'd almost reached the place it was stored when the voice reached her.
"Going somewhere…?"
Gasping involuntarily, Kelley squared her shoulders before spinning around to face whoever stood in her way. One hand slid inside her labcoat to grip the small blaster she'd pocketed: all the better to cover all her options, after all…
No guards greeted her furious gaze, however. The figure standing just a few scant feet away -- (How did she get so close…?!) -- was too small and sleek to belong to one of the towering soldiers that were so common a sight around the compound. Their attire was an almost exact mirror of the renegade doctor's; however, she didn't recognize the dark-haired woman as one of her coworkers.
Not that it mattered, in the long run…
Drawing out her weapon, Kelley steadied it with both hands, drawing a bead on the interloper's forehead.
"Sorry you got in my way," she muttered under her breath.
That garnered her a smirk, the raven-haired woman's lips curling upward at the edges.
"I'm not."
Eyes narrowing behind her glasses, Kelley fired three shots in rapid succession.
She fully expected her target to drop after the first blast hit, but squeezed off the next ones to make certain. She half-expected the woman to dodge, or try to, once she saw the gun go off.
Somehow, though, she wasn't expecting the other scientist's body to twist quite so sharply to one side, bending at an angle that should have been impossible.
The strange woman caught her gaze, and held it -- glasses seeming to melt away to reveal strikingly pale green eyes -- and behind her own lenses, Kelley's eyes widened in shocked recognition.
The files she'd reviewed after being assigned…
(Oh, God--)
A searing pain shot up her back -- through her frame -- and her blaster dropped from twitching fingers incapable of hanging onto the firearm anymore.
Watching, Mimic hid a displeased frown until after the scientist stopped twitching.
(…She didn't last as long as I expected. …Pity… I had so hoped she'd prove a bit more amusing…)
But that, she supposed, was due to her relative lack of practice with this particular method of assault. It was certainly promising, but needed a tad more refining before she went about using it on other targets she wanted to keep around a bit longer.
First, however, she needed to finish cleaning up the compound. There was too much trash lying around, taking up valuable resources and space. Once that was all taken care of, she could see about inviting her guests.
…And she'd surely have this perfected before their arrival, she promised herself, smirking in self-satisfied anticipation.