(A/N: Okay this is a massive update. I'm actually in a hurry to finish this fic, because I got a project coming up0
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-6-
Poet plugged in the data cable of the Ark to his portable database and started to fiddle with the commands. A series of logs started scrolling through his eyes. Any other human being – even if they had been more experienced than Poet, would have found that there was no anomaly. The last recorded transference of the ark had been over a year ago. No logs were recorded after that.
Poet saw something else – interlaced with the last recorded logs were electronic frequency shadows. Shadows that would never be visible to a normal eyes – shadows that perhaps only an animal with an acuity of vision as an eagle could make out.
And Poet did not have ordinary eyes.
The synthetic retinas transplanted into his eyes saw things that others could never even imagine. It saw digital prints, binary blips; it could see the high frequency sonar like images that bats received. In the dark, Poet could see auras and even thermal signatures.
Most uniquely, he could even see feelings.
Like a dog could smell neurotransmitters that were responsible for emotions, Poet could see the change in the field around a person when they experienced different feelings. It was like a halo around them.
He saw Hobbit's fear, he saw Gamgee's desire for the beautiful Dr. Grimm, and he even saw what he called Genghis' 'Goddman-Jerk Aura'. He saw the inhibition that everyone felt towards this whole mission – but what surprised him most of all was the aura that Phoenix emitted.
He liked Phoenix. Unlike the others who assumed her to be cold, Poet saw the myriad of emotions that she kept tightly contained within her expressionless exterior. He had been privy to all sorts of colours around Phoenix. Joy, friendship, loyalty, anger, sadness. The most predominant one was a shade of grey. It was the one that drew Poet's protectiveness of her. It was the colour of loneliness.
He liked her most of all because if ever he saw her emotions he would immediately see it being replaced by a colour that he had now learned to be determination. It was as though she had a storm trapped inside a bottle and if ever the cap would unscrew due to the pressure – he could actually see her clamping it back on. It was amusing and Poet always wondered how long it would last.
For the past twelve hours, they were at the base; he saw a new set of colours around Phoenix. Her colours were vividly bordering on discomfort and they elevated especially around Reaper. Those colours were deeply mixed with the colours of fear. There was something else he observed – her control of those powerful emotions was slowly diminishing.
It was one of the reasons, he didn't trust Reaper. Reaper didn't show colours which a normal human showed. If the rumours were to be believed then, Poet figured that his emissions were probably because of the mutation in his genome. Nevertheless – it was hard to interpret what he was feeling. The only feeling Poet was confirmed about was Reaper's loyalty and love for his sister. It was the only thing that kept him from prying into Reapers command codes and seeing his mission statement.
Poet frowned for a minute and wondered if he was seeing double for a second. The shadow had just disappeared as the logs completed scrolling. He reran the logs – it didn't happen again.
He scratched his head and wondered for a minute if he should even bother wasting his time pursuing the matter.
He opened his kit and sighed, looking at the device that would possibly solve his problem or complicate the matter further.
"I thought you hated that thing."
Poet gave a side glance to Sandman and punched in some more equations, into the Ark mainframe. Dr. Grimm was with him. She saw the black palm sized box and frowned in query.
Poet debated for a few seconds and decided against explaining it to her. He didn't trust Reaper and that translated into his distrust towards her, too.
"Any luck with the Ark?" she said.
"So far so clear," he mumbled.
"Ah!" Sandman muttered, conspiringly. "Poet don't like anyone pryin' while he's workin'. With him all information is at the end of his…whaddya call it?...'Thorough investigation'.
Dr. Grimm smiled and said, "I guess I know better than to interrupt you, then."
Sandman and Poet headed towards the hub. Poet looked at her retreating back and then spoke against his better judgement. "What about you, Dr. Grimm? Did you find what you're sent here to look for?"
Grimm's halo turned from a friendly, sociable pink to a gawdy magenta. It was as though the alarms in her brain had set off. Poet saw her turn and give a smile, which to anyone would have seemed casual – but in truth it wreaked nervousness.
"Not yet." She said, and turned about and continued on her way.
Poet looked back at the device. "Fuck it!" He said, picking it up. "It's not like I have a hot date!"
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"So you're a cybernetics geek huh?" John said watching Hobbit fiddle with the holographic interface that once was the pride and joy of the Nevada base. It was the public friendly UAC open database – and it brought in all the big money.
Hobbit grinned and much to John's dismay began talking a whole lot of computer jargon which John didn't want to hear – but was forced to, given his indiscretion in opening that can of worms.
Hobbit was on the first watch with Smith who was dozing on his console. John wasn't getting much sleep, so he decided to stick it out with them, keeping an eye on the cameras as Smith got his beauty sleep. It was nearly the end of their watch but Hobbit was wide awake with the virtual console.
John kept his eye fixed on Samantha's cam who was still working in the lab. The condor was Andean – the largest birds of prey, according to her. It had not been genetically modified – she had told him, but it was still a suspicious occurrence that it was flying around the sewers.
A sound behind him alerted his attention; Phoenix had just walked into the Hub, rubbing her eyes. He nodded at her which she acknowledged with the blinking of her eyes. Deciding against commenting on her social manners, he kept his eyes fixed on the monitor.
Smith mumbled something as she shook him. He sat up with a start when she patted his shoulder the second time. Bleary eyed, he nodded at her and hauled himself of his chair and headed towards the bunkers which had been deemed safe, mumbling his good night.
Phoenix silently took her place at the console which was still trying to connect to the satellite.
"Isn't Poet coming?" Hobbit said, as he continued to work.
She nodded as if to say – 'he'll be here, soon.'
"Well, I'm not sleepy so if you don't mind I'll take this one with you?" Hobbit asked, hopefully.
Phoenix shrugged. "Go tell Poet yourself, then." She said, quietly. He nodded and decided to do it personally.
John felt the awkwardness of being in the room alone with Phoenix without having said a word to her for five minutes. He glanced back at her and saw that she was working on trying to pull up satellite images and then trying to compare it with the ones that the mission documents contained. The one where the base practically didn't exist.
"So…" John said. "How long have you been with the Rangers?"
She didn't reply.
"I asked you a question."
No answer.
John turned around and looked at her, properly. He observed that the tight bun she tied at the nape of her neck was now a very long braid.
Really long. It nearly reached her waist.
He frowned. "Don't you have a hair-length norm in the army, soldier?"
Again there was silence.
"I'm talking to you, Quinn."
"I heard you." She said, quietly.
"Then answer me." He ordered.
"The hair-length applies to regular personnel. Special Ops only requirement is that it shouldn't come in the way. It doesn't. Does that answer you, sir?"
She actually spat out the 'sir'.
John ignored her tone and persisted. "And what about my first question?"
"Three years."
John felt like an idiot when he turned around to continue doing what he was doing. He wasn't her to be sociable to anyone, much less to a mute-by-choice hard ass.
He scowled and silently decided he was done being friendly.
Quinn breathed slowly. It was a smart decision – those few words were enough to keep him quiet and encourage him not to talk any further. She didn't want him communicating with her on even the remotest level.
When would this goddamn mission get over? It was obvious there was no activity going on around here. Except for that damned bird in the sewer there was no other unusual occurrence.
Quinn sighed to herself. She felt it – the eerie feeling this base carried. She couldn't stop feeling that something was wrong here; though she decided against voicing her instincts she would not ignore it.
The day was horrible for her. Hearing the authoritative tone of his voice again, seeing the familiar caution with which he moved – and then that damn bird. For a minute she thought that bird had nearly got Reaper given the commotion. It had opened a sense of fear in her that she was not used to. Fear for him.
Stop giving a damn! She told herself. He didn't remember her and she could not afford to remind him. It would be like facing that part of her past again. A life she had chosen to forget.
What the hell was keeping Hobbit? She didn't like being alone having to hear his breathing; she didn't like her stubborn body urging her to touch him. Just once – even if by accident. Just to know he's real.
He had promised her they would always be friends. Then he left. Why should he care? Why should he even bother keeping relations? He was doing his job. He saved her life and he had to get on with his. Sure, he told her things about himself. His time on Mars. His father's death. About his sister – whom she found to be very much as he had described her; give or take a few changes. Sure, he had talked about why he joined the marines, how he found the first time having killed a human being was the most sickening thing in his life…but after a couple more, it didn't matter, as long as you were saving other lives.
He was just doing his job. He was being kind to her. He was helping her through her most difficult hours. He was trying to keep them both alive. He might have told this story to a million others, or he might have not. It didn't matter. If it did he would have tried to reach her – but he didn't, because Private Reaper was just doing what he was assigned to do. Protect her. Keep her safe. Keep her alive. It wasn't his job to inspire her. It wasn't his job to make her feel as though it was worth living for something. It wasn't even his job to follow up on his promises.
All those words had been just part of the bonus.
She was having this conversation with herself for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours.
The man she saw now had changed considerably. He was hardened by his years in the corps and his experience with UAC. If she after ten years could erect this tight shell about herself, then he surely would be no different. Post-Traumatic Stress. She knew it like the gun she carried. She knew how it changed people and her most of all.
It had been him, who had told her that being part of the marines was no dream come true. Heroism was just a piece of shit and war was no glorified manner of living. The only thing that kept you a part of the bloody affair was knowing that someone's alive because you're out there bleeding.
She had kept that in mind – and through all the horrors she had seen those words had gotten her through it.
If for nothing else, she had to be grateful to him for that much.
Phoenix shook the thoughts out of her head. Being around him always set the cogwheels of her mind going haywire.
Hobbit alerted her on the comm, telling her that he was going to cybernetics lab to work on the virtual interface. He also told her that Poet was awake and he was going to continue working on the Ark. She wanted to tell him to get his bony ass up here, but knew there was no sense. John was watching the cams. Practicality won over her emotions, as always.
Phoenix finally lost her patience. The only way she could keep her mind of wondering about John Grimm and his life was if she involved her brain in something more productive. The satellite was not going to help her find out what was blocking its view.
She was going to find out herself.
Furiously typing in overrides she manually accessed and hacked into the mainframe of the satellite control. She was going to find out what was bloody wrong with this place.
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"That's illegal."
She had sensed him standing over her shoulder long before he spoke but had ignored him. She wasn't startled when he finally spoke.
His tone of voice was bordering on amusement though.
Phoenix downloaded the data she needed to communicate with the satellite's remote control and then slipped out of the system.
Reaper pulled up a chair and sat next to her. Phoenix typed even faster, trying to expel the nervousness she felt from his proximity.
It worked temporarily.
Having gained access to the satellite's controls she programmed it to read multiple varieties of signatures over Nevada. Thermal, tectonic, anything. It didn't work. She had a sudden brainstorm. She typed in a few commands and waited for the satellite to transmit.
"So you're the real geek?" He said, chuckling softly.
"You should watch the cams." She said.
"I should." He said; he seemed to be thinking. Phoenix didn't dare to look at him. "Hobbit," Reaper called over the comm. "Get up here, I need you to watch the cams."
A light began to beep. She bit her lip as the satellite sent her a response.
"Damn it." She muttered to herself.
"What happened?" He said.
"We're a little far behind the Japanese on this one. I have to do a bit more snooping."
"What do you mean?"
"Watch."
Phoenix accessed the Nevada public telenetwork and began furiously punching in commands. After five minutes, she heard Reaper gasp. She smiled inwardly. Sometimes, she surprised herself too.
"You're accessing the Japanese sat? Through public access?"
"It's not easy – they're smarter than we are with firewalls. I have only 180 seconds before they realize they have an intruder in their system. The advantage of the public telnet is that I can keep them from locating me."
Hobbit came in and took his place. Phoenix ignored his protests at having to leave the virtual database. John ordered him to keep his eyes glued to the cams and not let even a shadow pass unexplained.
She gave a victorious sigh when she had access to the satellite's controls. Giving in another set of sequences, she took in a deep breath waiting.
"What are you looking for?" Reaper said.
The light changed colour to green. Phoenix couldn't hold a smile back. She quickly relayed a set of commands and then slipped out of the Japanese network, leaving behind a confusing trail that led to some other member of the Nevada telnet, all the while as the satellite downloaded images of the base.
"We have less than three minutes till this information goes blank," she said, relaying to commands to her adjacent console. "Save it, in that time. Don't bother looking at it. We can see it later. You do know how to…"
Reaper nodded before she could complete her question and moved his chair to the second screen.
Those three minutes seemed to be unnaturally long as she furiously worked herself out of the telnet. At the exact moment she had completely erased her trail she heard Reaper's sigh of relief.
"I think that's done." Reaper said.
She shifted her chair towards his console, her excitement overcoming her inhibitions over her proximity towards him. Reaper moved his chair to accommodate her but they were still close.
"What the hell…?" John muttered as the images began to load. "What are these?"
This time when she didn't respond, it was more out of surprise than reluctance.
"Poet," she spoke into her comm. "Get your ass up here, would you?"
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"Electromagnetic readings?" Poet said, raising his eyebrows. "Boy! Phoenix – but I'm quite sure you screwed up their satellites for good. When d'you get this smart, anyway?"
"I didn't know you could take such readings," Hobbit said, frowning.
"You can't, technically, for a good reason. When you ask the satellite to scan electromagnetic pulses you tune its receiver to read frequencies at which itself operates. It'll pick up every goddamn electronic equipment from old fashioned radios to rockets. It causes too much interference. The satellite orbits away from the location it gets confused and all signals get jammed. It pretty much makes it difficult to control after that. That's why they don't equip our satellites to do the same."
"But the Japs are smarter," Hobbit said, his eyes widening in realization. "They built in a safeguard. Whenever the satellite orbits into the coordinates, for the for the time frame it scans the area and the frequency you want – say our base here, it'll give you a fantastic picture, once it goes out of the coordinates, it automatically goes into its default mode."
"How'd you know about it?"
"UAC synthesized the chips for artillery some years back. It failed because it's very sensitive to nuclear weapons. The Japs bought it and improved it. It wasn't a confirmed rumor but now I guess we know for sure."
"So why'd you say that their satellite was screwed?"
"Because a time frame of longer than one minute causes an overload on the chips. I told you – they're too sensitive to nuclear radiations. Even the heavy metals from the earth's core."
"So, what are we seeing here?" Genghis asked, looking at the image.
"The cause of the damn blackout," said Poet. "There's some sort of negative force field around the base perimeter. It blocks the transmission to and from the satellite. That's why we were having trouble communicating with HQ."
"I don't get it." Sandman said, "What sort of weapon or program or whatever can cause this field? I mean something's gotta cause it, right?"
"That's what we have to find out." John said, extremely impressed by Phoenix. "Whatever it is, it's affecting the thermal signatures and it's probably screwing up our handheld scanners too, and we may not be able to see something we are supposed to."
"So what you're telling me as that we're at a level 5 security risk?" Genghis said, rising up from his seat.
"Maybe worse."
Genghis paced for a few minutes and said, "So how do we go about this without getting killed. Mission aside, frankly I wanna know what the fuck is going on – and who is responsible for it?"
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(A/N: a lot of the technical stuff in this fic is fictitious)
