Hey all, and welcome to Chapter 3 of the Rewrite! We're still at it, I swear. 2020 just hasn't been a particularly good year for, well, anything.
Becca stared down at her notebook, pen in hand. She didn't dare write anything down, of course, she wasn't stupid, but that just limited her to her thoughts. Jaime was gone for less than a day, so what could have happened to her? Why is she working for them, whoever they are? She didn't like the bar, but the job change is so sudden that there's no way it's legit. Jaime didn't mention this Bledsoe guy for no reason, so I guess I need to start with him. Gotta figure out how to look into someone -
A hand tapped on Becca's shoulder and she bolted upright with a yelp. Kate leaned over next to her and tapped on her shoulder once more and pointed forwards to Mr. Ortiz, who was looking impatiently at Becca. Mr. Ortiz, Becca thought, and the details fell into place. 5th period, AP Biology, the module on -
"Ms. Sommers?" Mr. Ortiz asked, furrowing his brow as he stood over her.
"Yes!" Becca said, leaning forward.
"Well, since you've decided to finally join us, why don't you tell us about nerve signal conduction?" Mr. Ortiz asked, enunciating slowly as he did whenever any of her teachers caught her not looking their way to catch their lips.
"Uh, well," Becca started. "The axon starts out with sodium ions outside and potassium ions inside, which creates a positive charge outside the axon, but when the action potential exceeds the threshold voltage, it triggers the voltage-gated sodium channels to open which takes the difference from negative to positive relative to the outside of the cell, which cascades down the cell." She looked up at Mr. Ortiz and blinked. "Do you want me to keep going?"
Mr. Ortiz stared at Becca a moment longer, then nodded. "No, I think you've got it," he said. He let his look wander the rest of the class. "The rest of you, I'm afraid you'll have to keep paying attention." He turned his head again to what Becca assumed - and her watch confirmed - would be the bell. "Okay, guys, remember to review and come see me if you have any questions about the exam next week, all right?" he finished.
Becca already had her bag over her shoulder and was halfway out the door when Kate caught up with her, jogging around Becca to walk half-facing her as she signed. You know you're deaf, right? Kate signed. You need to look at the teachers to hear them.
"Uh huh," Becca said.
You are lucky you are you and just know everything, Kate continued.
"...I really don't," Becca replied.
Yeah, sure, Kate signed, but then Becca stopped in the middle of the hall.
After a moment looking around, Becca signed back to Kate, holding her hands close to her chest. I need to talk with you. Not here.
Kate knew things were serious when Becca started signing back. "Okay…"
Becca took another look around, then walked off, Kate trailing behind her.
Becca navigated the hallways quicker than usual, cutting through crowds she would have ordinarily dodged, and it was all Kate could do to keep up without bumping into anyone. Their route led them first into the library, then to the secluded study area within. Becca sat down at one of the empty desks there and Kate pulled up a chair opposite her.
Becca looked around, yet again. Something weird is happening, she signed. I don't know who else to talk to.
You can always talk to me, Kate replied. What is happening?
Becca finger-spelled Jaime. Another student got up from his desk nearby; Becca watched him walk away until he was well out of earshot. Something happened to her and she won't tell me what it is. Yet another look around. Her boyfriend is involved, too.
"Oh shit," Kate hissed.
Becca shook her head. You can't tell anyone! she signed, repeating it for emphasis. I think someone's watching her. Maybe someone is watching me, too.
"Uhh…" Kate said, looking around. Are you okay?
Okay, Becca signed quickly, then dropped back into her chair and sighed. After a few seconds of gathering her thoughts, she sat up straight again. I'm not making this up. I am scared for her. I don't know what's going on and I don't know what to do.
I believe you, but - Kate started.
Saying 'but' makes me think you don't really believe me, Becca added, rolling her eyes.
But I don't know what to say! Kate said, her signs getting animated enough to shake the table a bit. You can't tell me what is happening. You don't know what to do. She got up and sat down next to Becca to give her a hug. Becca first endured the hug, then put her arms around Kate and held on to her for a few seconds.
"Thank you," Becca whispered. "I...need to think about this more."
Kate let Becca go so she could see her face. "If anyone's gonna figure this out, it's you. Just...be careful, okay?"
"I'm always careful," Becca said.
"No, you're not," Kate said, smiling a bit. "That's why I'm saying it."
Becca smiled despite herself. This time, though, she signed.
With a final clap on Becca's shoulder, Kate got up and walked away. She'd be alone in the cafeteria for lunch, because Becca's look had already returned to the empty page of her notebook. Organized, I gotta get organized. Can't figure this out without getting organized. She stared at the page a moment longer, then started drawing. First, a horizontal line across the page, then a line at the left end labeled "Sunday - Jaime leaves on date", then halfway down, another line: "Monday afternoon - Jaime returns, freaks out, collapses, Will takes her away". Right after that, another two lines: "Early Monday night - Jaime comes back, and has a fight with Will, goes to his apartment", and "Late Monday Night - Jaime comes back". The gaps between Sunday and Monday and Monday afternoon and night got a circle and a label of their own - "What happened in here?" - and Becca started adding more around that. "Cameras?", "Asking questions?", "Asking Jaime?", and each got crossed out.
Becca sighed, and turned the page over, putting Jaime's name dead center of the page. Off that, she drew two lines and added names at the end of each: "Will" and "Jonas Bledsoe(?)". A moment's thought later added two lines from each to a common phrase: "Promethean Dynamics", the name of the company Will said he worked for, and then a big circle looped a few times around that name and Bledsoe. There we go, Becca thought with a smile - and then tore the page out of her notebook and crumpled it up in her hand. It was a short walk out the door to the administration building, and after a nod and a smile to Erin at the front desk, Becca rounded the desk and slid the page into the shredder, watching the paper descend into its teeth. Time to go to work, she thought.
If Truewell hadn't radioed ahead to warn the FBI agents guarding the makeshift base, a van approaching at that speed from Paradise (or any other direction) would have been lit up in a hailstorm of gunfire. Instead they cleared well away from the dust cloud kicked up by the speeding van, as Truewell practically rolled the van over, spinning the rear end around to back into the decontamination sprayers. Will was out of the van before the water hit, stomping towards the back while the decontamination crew hosed down the whole vehicle. Truewell was right behind him, but nice enough to close the door so the interior wouldn't get soaked.
"Make a hole!" Will shouted, freezing the incoming FBI support team in their steps. With a rough yank, he threw open the van's trunk and half-crawled inside. When he backed out again, he was dragging with him an aluminum case hastily wrapped in "BIOHAZARD" warning tape. Truewell appeared at his side, helping to heft the case out of the vehicle. The decon hoses were still spraying at them both, drenching them and the sample case with clear water. Neither of them cared.
The radio clicked with Agent Tarzi's voice. "Talk to me, Doctors," he said.
Truewell glanced up. Through the water running off her suit's visor, she could just make out a hazy figure maybe thirty meters away, by the main building, waving an arm towards her. "We have a device," she said, only to herself at first; then she clicked the transmit button on her radio and repeated it for everyone to hear.
"MAKE A HOLE!" Will shouted onto the same channel. "Everybody back off! Clear the tents! This is now a hot zone."
After that, the channel was filled with his breathing and cussing. He hadn't keyed off the transmit and whatever anyone else was trying to say, it wasn't getting through. The water finally eased off them as they gained distance from the van, rushing towards whatever the nearest plastic tent was. In front of them, people grabbed what they could and ran for it. One brave agent in an isolation suit stayed, holding the entrance of the tent open for the two dripping wet Berkut operatives and their deadly cargo. With a final grunt of effort, they carried the case inside and heaved it onto a table. After breaking the tape seal of the container, they gingerly lifted the device into the transfer chamber of the waiting glove box and sealed it inside. Behind them, the entrance to the tent was zipped closed. The agent didn't leave yet, though; he tapped on the thick, semi-clear plastic, getting Truewell's attention. He flailed a hand towards the side of his helmet, then tapped the radio attached to his chest harness under the suit.
Truewell nodded, checked her own gear, then looked over to Will. "Radio!" she said. Not getting a response, she put a hand on Will's shoulder. Will flinched away, brushing her hand away, but he did look at her. "Radio!" Truewell said, loud enough to carry through the helmets and the adrenaline. "You're blocking the channel!"
Will nodded, fumbled with the transmit until he got it turned off. Then he finally took a few, deep breaths and put both hands on the bench, leaning over to steady himself. He started to slump and lean to one side, but then caught himself and wobbled back upright. "You need to...you should get out," he said.
"Excuse you, I'm not going anywhere," Truewell shouted back, not needing the radio to communicate that message.
"Doctors Truewell, Anthros, come in," Tarzi's voice sounded via radio. "Doctors, do you copy?"
Truewell glared at Will, then keyed her radio. "Truewell here, good copy, go ahead, Agent Tarzi."
"Doctor Truewell," Tarzi said, "I understand you brought back an UXO? I have everyone clearing a fifty meter perimeter around your location right now. I need to know what happens next."
"It's not a UXO, you paper pusher," Will shouted inside his suit.
Truewell keyed the radio again. "Cannot confirm whether it is explosive, Agent Tarzi," she said. "Doctor Anthros believes it is primarily a chemical hazard."
"Copy your assessment," Tarzi said. "You'll understand if we don't take chances with that. What's the plan?"
"The plan is -" Will started to say as he pushed himself off the counter before Truewell keyed down on his microphone for him. "The plan is, we take this thing apart, see how it works, and then figure out where it came from."
"...copy that," Tarzi radioed. Will felt a hiss of fresh air in his suit as Truewell hooked them both to the tent's air supply. Nice and cool. He bumped his hand against the suit's visor in an attempt to wipe the sweat off his brow.
"It's got a few screws and accessible panels for us to get into," Truewell said. "We could use someone with EOD experience to open it up."
"There are too many people in this tent already," Will protested.
Truewell got off the radio and stepped closer to Will. "Hold out your hands," she said.
"What on Earth for?" Will shot back.
"Personal favor to me," Truewell said. "Hold out your hands. Now."
Will grunted, then turned to her and held out his hands. It didn't take even two seconds before their quiver was noticeable even through the thick gloves of the suit.
"You're done touching things that might kill us," Truewell said.
Will grunted again, but averted his eyes, signalling his surrender. "Fine," he said. "Let's gamble another life. Tick that checkbox."
"Agent Tarzi," Truewell radioed. "How about that EOD assistance?"
"Stand by," Tarzi radioed back. After a few seconds, he continued. "To be clear, Doctor Truewell, if I'm sending one of my agents, you're going to listen to them. They say it can't be opened, we're detonating it. No buts."
"You can't do that -" Will shouted, but was cut off by Truewell.
"Sounds fair to me," Truewell said. "They didn't expect that this would fall into our hands, so I'm not expecting anything, but better to be safe than sorry."
"Good," Tarzi replied. "Glad to hear we're all on the same page now. I have Agent Jackson suiting up, she'll be with you in ten. Don't disturb the device without her."
"We won't," Truewell said, keeping her hand on Will's shoulder to both keep him away from the glove box and upright.
It made a sort of sense for the FBI's on-hand trained bomb technician to be petite, and her deft hands made quick but careful work of the inspection of the outside of the device. "No visible exterior triggers, no obvious internal masses," Agent Jackson said. "Starting with the screws holding the external access plate now." Truewell had to hold Will back from walking up behind her to demand she go faster, but the three screws pinning the plate closed came out easily enough. The round aluminum plate on the bottom of the device was carefully prised up and open, revealing a white silicone rubber gasket on the inside. "Looks like the device was sealed against some kind of unknown agent."
Will tugged against Truewell's hand again. "Are there multiple chambers?"
"Yes, sir, three," Jackson said. "Two larger and one smaller. The larger two have some kind of oily black residue, and the smaller one a much lighter weight and clear residue, like an alcohol."
"Binary precursor containers and a complex organic catalyst to kick-start folding," Will muttered.
"Agent Jackson, it's vital you get multiple swabs of those chambers immediately," Truewell called out.
"Copy that, ma'am," Jackson said, and ran a number of swabs through all three chambers. "Other than that, I don't see anything else inside. The top of the device looks like a sprayer head, no obvious threat. I'm calling this device clean."
"All right," Will said, rising to his feet. "Excellent, very good work, Agent Jackson, thank you."
Jackson stood aside. "Fine with me, Sir, I'm getting decon'd and getting the fuck out of here."
"Smart move," Truewell said as she got out of Jackson's way. "What do you see, Will?"
"There's a," Will began. His arm rose again to his helmet, but this time he remembered that he couldn't touch his forehead, so he put the hand on the counter and leaned his weight onto it. "There's a nebulizer there, did we get a...did we get swabs from the top and the side, you know, we should be looking for the port sizes, maybe that'll give us a clue to the agent's viscosity...I think."
"That'll help ID the agent, but we need to know who made this more, Will," Truewell said, opening up the medical kit in the tent, and pulling out a packaged syringe and one of the vials of drugs inside.
"Yes," Will said.
Will stared at the device for a moment longer, then grabbed it with both hands and banged it against a tool stand in the glove box as hard as he could. Before Truewell could pull him back, he had given it three good cracks, and a chunk of it broke off with a loud ping.
"What the hell are you doing?" Truewell shouted, holding Will back.
"It's safe!" Will shouted. "Agent...Agent Jackson said it was safe, and I couldn't see a better way to get the protective housing off of the nebulizer control circuits!" He managed to wrestle his way free of Truewell and staggered back towards the glove box. "And see? Do you see, Agent Truewell?" Truewell walked over and peered through the glove box window. Indeed, Will had managed to break off the aluminum box covering the electronics at the top of the device, and inside was a small circuit board with a couple of integrated circuits and small components. "I bet some of those are even traceable," Will said.
"Good work, Will," Truewell said. "Let's go outside and get out of these suits for a minute, hmm?"
"Yes," Will breathed. "Yes, we...we know where to look now," he continued.
There was no further protest as he followed Truewell out of the tent. Outside, they and Agent Jackson stood still and raised their arms for another decontamination hosedown. Only after a thorough spraying and an all clear handsign from the decon team did Truewell finally reach for the duct tape over the collar seal of her helmet. Never before had dusty desert air smelled this good. With her own head free, she helped Will unbuckle his gear and climb out of the suit. He was wearing more sweat than fabric at this point and while he started talking and gesticulating with his left hand, his right hung at his side, quivering.
"Issue one, chemicals," Will started reeling off. "I need to get my test kit in there. We can have the swabs done in twenty, maybe thirty minutes."
"Sounds good," Truewell said. She reached into one of the cargo pockets on her suit, producing the packaged syringe and vial. "That's all automated in your minilab, yes?"
"Of course it is!" Will scoffed. "Do you think I'm bringing beakers and bunsen burners out here? Issue two, materials, we need -" He turned to Agent Jackson. "Jackson!" he shouted. "We need those screws traced! You FBI people have databases for that, yes?"
Jackson looked just past Will to watch Truewell uncap the syringe, then over to the side, where Agent Tarzi made his approach, now kitted out in his own isolation suit. "We do, Doctor Anthros," Tarzi said. "Is there anything else we can help you with?"
"Yes!" Anthros said, pausing again after that. "There's a...there's another thing. Right. Issue three, we have to take another look at the recovered bodies for acetylcholine levels, and any...any abnormal transition metals in the neurons. I don't think this was a chemical weapon, at least, not like you think of them."
"Anything else, Will?" Truewell asked, drawing a small dose from the vial.
"...coffee would be nice," Will said.
"I have something better," Truewell said, and jammed the needle into the meat of Will Anthros' ass before depressing the plunger. "You need sleep, not caffeine, Will."
Will barely flinched, but he did tense up. "You fucking bitch," he hissed. Then the rest of his breath escaped and he bent over, swayed a bit under her steadying hands. "What'd you...what was in that?" he asked.
"Ketamine," Truewell said. "Not even enough of a dose to knock you out. Just enough to make you sleepy."
"Ket," Will said. "Damn." He took another breath. "...that's what I would use."
"You'll wake up in probably...twelve hours or so," Truewell said. "You could barely stand up, Will. You need to sleep."
"I need to," Will said. "I have...I'm the...I can figure this out."
"Not when you're barely coherent, and you know it," Truewell said.
"...yes," Will said, and slumped over into Truewell's arms.
"A little bit of help here?" Truewell said.
Agent Jackson walked over and positioned herself under Will's other shoulder as both she and Truewell carried the now-unconscious Berkut scientist into a nearby field tent and laid him down on one of the cots inside.
"So, all the stuff he said?" Truewell said to Agent Tarzi. "Get on it. I'll handle the field lab, you handle the parts and autopsies."
"With respect, Ma'am," Jackson said, "you DARPA people are out of your fucking minds. Where'd you find this guy?"
"Wouldn't be here without him," Truewell commented.
Jaime exited the shooting range with a light growl in her stomach and what felt like a second, invisible layer of oily gunshot residue underneath the one she had just washed off her hands. Nobody was waiting for her outside, giving her a chance to wander closer to the railing of the circular walkway and take in the atmosphere of the central vertical shaft spanning Wolf Creek's sublevels. The air was moving throughout, pushing down from above. It smelled like nothing. There were echoes of footsteps throughout, though she knew - how did she know? - that she was alone with Jae Kim on this level. She leaned onto the railing and tried to take in the vast expanse of muted fluorescent lighting and concrete. This, she had been told, was supposed to be her future. It didn't look very bright.
She heard the soft ping of the central elevator arriving at the level and turned around to see Captain Ginsburg exit it. He looked a bit surprised to see her out and about as he jogged to join up with her.
"Hey," Ginsburg said. "Sorry about the wait. Are you all wrapped up with Jae in there?"
"Yes," Jaime said. "All done."
"Great," Ginsburg said, putting on a smile. "Tell me all about it over lunch?"
"Not much to talk about," Jaime said. "One of the bouncers at the bar took me shooting when I first started working there, said it was 'so I know how to take care of myself', but I think it was just his go-to move. Guns aren't complicated to use, that's part of the problem."
Ginsburg nodded to that. "Not sure that attitude's gonna make a lot of friends around here," he said.
"Not sure implanting robot limbs in my body and forcing me to be a killer is a good way to do that, either," Jaime replied back, an edge filling her voice.
Ginsburg's mouth hung open for a moment. His next move was for his eyes to stop meeting Jaime's. "...damn," he managed. He turned further, now looking squarely away from her as he took a few breaths to think over his next words. Then he pulled his shoulders out of their slump and turned back to look at her. "Have they told you about Sara?" he asked.
"I've heard this speech from Bledsoe, from Will, and even from Kim," Jaime said.
"And I bet they have their story straight, too," Ginsburg said. "They're trying to make it easier for you to take her down. What they probably left out is that we did her dirty just like you...worse, even. Yeah, she's dangerous. Killed a lot of people I knew. But maybe we all had it coming." He paused. "Or I can shut up about it. Your choice."
Jaime's bartending experience taught her a lot about knowing when someone has something to say. "Go ahead," she nodded.
Ginsburg did not just 'go ahead'. He turned his head from side to side, looking for anyone who might be listening in on their conversation.
"There's no one here," Jaime said.
"How do you know?" Ginsburg said, looking around behind her.
"I...think it's the bionic ear?" Jaime said. "I can't hear anyone but us."
"...that's...handy," Ginsburg said. "Okay. So, if you heard the story, you've probably seen the file. Here's the million dollar question: why her and not anyone else?" He lowered his voice. "As far as I know, the candidate had to be three things: they had to be 'compatible', whatever the hell that means. There couldn't be any other treatment options, that's the only way SecDef would sign off on it - people who were gonna be dead without the bionics. And one more thing, they had to be expendable. You know what that means? That means some motherfucker in the DoD looked at a few dozen files off our wishlist and put a dot on the people they thought wouldn't be missed. Once that was decided, all we had to do was wait for one of our chosen to get almost killed and come scoop them up." He paused. "So, here's Sara Corvus. Already sold down the river before she ever met us. Doesn't have anybody to give a shit about her. And then it all goes down, she's blown up, she's flown in, she's butchered. She hasn't even been awake for an hour before she's taken a hostage and I'm staring at her over the sights of my rifle, wondering if I should pull the trigger on this scared woman who's holding a scalpel to one of my guys and shouting for someone to explain what we've done to her." He paused again. "I didn't know Sara Corvus before she got here, but I know what this place did to her. It turned her into a weapon and a monster. It does that to everyone."
"Everyone?" Jaime asked.
Ginsburg didn't reply to that. "But that doesn't change that she's coming for you. Sympathy doesn't matter if it's on your headstone."
"Sounds like everyone's got their own good reasons to shoot first and not bother with the questions at all," Jaime replied. "Also sounds like no one's bothered to just talk to her like a human being instead of a malfunctioning murder machine."
Ginsburg gave her a curt nod. "I'd like to say we tried," he said. "Right now, our orders are shoot to kill on sight. I can't imagine she'd do less for any of us." He averted his eyes. "You're going to try to talk to her, aren't you?"
"It seems like someone should," Jaime said
It took Ginsburg a second to show a reaction to that, a curt nod with his eyes fixed on hers. The elevator dinged open behind her. "I hope that works," he said, then turned toward the elevator cab.