I was honestly rather surprised to see some reviews on this! Even saying just a few words about my writing means a lot.
As far as any sort of schedule goes, I will try my best to upload a chapter as often as I can. This really depends on how much time I have to sit down and write. I have a rather tight schedule, and I can only afford to devote so much time to writing. So I will apologize in advance for any excruciatingly long delays, although hopefully none such will occur.
I'm trying to dive more into the backgrounds of the characters, and on their thoughts in general over the action that's happening around them.
I have a solid idea of how the story will progress, but I'm a bit torn by part of it. My original story plan had a definite ending, one that tied up all loose ends and left little to no room for further expansion. Of course, over time I found myself thinking of more and more "what if?" scenarios that would allow the story to be much, much longer. I'm aware that this is quite early to be asking something like this, but I was hoping to get some feedback on which option you (the audience) would prefer.
As always, I hope you enjoy the next chapter.
EDIT: As of 7/12/17, this chapter has been heavily revised.
Paszek laid down soon after their conversation. Kane imagined that he had to be completely drained.
"There were these…horrible monsters…" he had said. Kane wondered just how real his experience was. He described it with such vigor and…disdain. Did Paszek fear for his own life, even from something that wasn't real?
No. She immediately dismissed that. It was just like a dream, she reasoned. In a nightmare, you stop being scared once you realize there's nothing to be scared of. In a dream, death was meaningless. Falling off of a building didn't kill you, it woke you up.
This opened up a rabbit's hole of questions for Kane. What was dreaming like with a DNI? Hyper-realistic? Impossible to break out of on your own? Maybe it was best that she didn't know.
Kane checked her watch; it was 2 AM. As the weight of today's (well, yesterday's, technically) work fell upon her, she yawned. She found herself in a rather sticky situation. Leaving a male subordinate's room in the middle of the night would draw the worst sort of suspicion. But the padded felt chair she sat in was getting more and more comfortable. She let out a quiet sigh. Paszek better be able to cover for her tomorrow morning.
She slumped back a bit in the chair, and let herself drift to sleep.
Upon waking up, she found herself in his cot; Paszek was lying on the floor, stiffly positioned on his side. His eyes were oddly dilated, as if he were simultaneously drowsy and wide awake.
"Did you get any sleep?" asked Kane as she swung her legs around the side of the bed.
"Nope. Happy to see you did, though." he winced as he sat up, and a few distinct popping sounds could be heard.
"I was perfectly fine in the chair..."
"You needed the sleep more than me."
Both of them knew that was a lie, but they warmly smiled at each other anyways.
Paszek looked downwards and clutched the back of his neck, leaning his elbows on his thighs
"Listen, about last night…" Paszek trailed off. He knew what he wanted to say, he just had trouble saying it.
"Last night I was in a bad place…I still am, really." he paused again.
"The things I said…about me and about you…they're all true…but…what I'm trying to say is…"
He was stammering very noticeably at this point. Kane looked down at her feet, silently pitying her friend.
"I'm sorry." he said
Kane slowly panned her head up, raising an eyebrow halfway.
"I let this virus compromise me. It won't happen again."
Kane took a deep breath. He wasn't wrong. But they both knew there was something more to this. Something that they might be smart to fear.
"I'm sorry too."
She stood up, placed her palm on Paszek's back for a brief moment, and exited the room.
Mission Briefing for November 3rd, 2070: LNO Rachel Kane
Intel obtained by Commander Paszek regarding the location of fugitives John Taylor and Peter Maretti points to a drilling platform approximately 2.3 miles east of Cairo. High altitude surveillance drones reveal unusually high heat signatures and Egyptian Army scouts confirm an NRC presence on the aquifer. Expect large numbers of anti-aircraft personnel and drones.
The priority for all CIA operatives is to subdue Specialists Taylor and Maretti. Capture or a confirmed kill is required on both. Exercise extreme caution when dealing with the fugitives, they have received extensive training and have a vast knowledge of the Cyber Soldier program.
CIA and Egyptian Army forces are to assault the base from the air until it is safe for the CIA strike team to land on the top deck. Take out any and all hostiles, but exercise caution around the support areas of the platform; destroying the entire aquifer is not an option. Once we have boots on the ground, all air support decisions will be left to Lieutenant Khalil. Commander Hendricks will lead troops on deck.
It is of upmost importance that any operatives with a DNI do not facilitate an interface with any hostiles. We have reason to believe that Taylor and Maretti have somehow tampered with their implants, and the effects of this on another DNI host are unknown as of now.
If this loose end can be tied up, the WA will gain a much needed boost in Africa. Failure is not an option.
Take off was in an hour. Paszek ran through his list one last time, just to be sure.
Fuel in the tank? Check.
Missiles armed? Check.
Minigun turrets operational? Check.
It was routine. Like he had done a million times.
The strange part was that he hadn't. Paszek had never flown a plane before. He hadn't spent a minute in a cockpit, he hadn't thumbed through thousands of pages of technical manuals, and with the exception of a very brief course at Ranger training, he hadn't learned much at all about aeronautics. Well, that all depended on the true definition of "learned".
When a 17-year Air Force veteran decided to finally call it quits, the US Department of Information made him an enticing deal. He would be tax-exempt for life and have his children's schooling paid for in full if he got a DNI implant. They made the same offer to hundreds of others. Soldiers, scientists, doctors, historians, athletes: a handful of experts in every profession.
The reason? Simple. They needed people to absorb knowledge quicker. Understand quantum physics in hours, learn a language in a matter of days, increase their top speed in only a week.
The DNI can access and sort through all the data that is contained in the human mind. And not just the basics. Every neuron that is active in the brain or that ever was, can be studied, analyzed, transferred to a computer and replicated with astonishing accuracy.
Knowledge. Memories. Emotions. All digitized for convenience. They started human trials not two weeks after their breakthrough.
All of the new initiates into the Cyber Soldier Program had a modest amount of cherry-picked data implanted with their DNI. The Air Force vet's piloting expertise, a medic's knowledge of first-aid, even a mechanical scientist's understanding of the inner workings of firearms all became standard-issue.
Of course, there was a limit to how much could be uploaded; the human mind has its limits. Paszek now was able to fly a plane, but he couldn't perform any immensely intricate maneuvers nor could he repair any relatively obscure defects. He could cauterize a wound and administer CPR, but there were still situations he wasn't fit to handle. Checking for wear on the inside of his barrel became second-nature, but he couldn't always locate the source of a jammed weapon.
These data uploads were supposed to be limited to just the raw information; objective and unable to be compromised. But the many facets of the human mind are not just contained to a certain sector; a person's conscious thoughts and items stored n the long term memory, for example, are not always separate. As such, the transfer of data strictly intended to be of a skillful complexion would cause a bit of bleed-over. Shortly after Paszek absorbed the pilot's aviation lifestyle, he found himself…thinking differently in certain situations.
Mission Report for March 29th, 2066: Commander Ignacio Paszek
The mission objective: to expel the newly-CDP-allied Finnish forces from areas surrounding WA energy plants in the North Atlantic was achieved, but the results were mixed. After taking out their on-board DEAD systems and capturing 2 of their officers, we placed explosive charges on their largest ship. However, an unknown malfunction caused the C4 to detonate while we were still within the blast zone. Our entire team was launched into the water. Comms said that secondary extraction would not be available for another 45 minutes. We untied our prisoners, and they did not seem eager to attempt escape (which was in all likelihood due to our bleak situation).My experience in aquatics was not as extensive as it could have been, but I was confident that my team and I could push through.
At 0600 local time, I lost control of my flotation device and drowned. Let the record state that Specialist Joseph Fierro eventually got me afloat and took control of the mission after this incident.
Upon waking up on US soil, I learned that my account of the ocean consistently merely of hallucinations. The rest of my team was able to swim to safety, with no injuries or complications. A Coalescence-contracted doctor told me that my visions were not uncommon, but that the severity of mine was abnormal.1
1CLASSIFIED FOOTNOTE: RESERVED FOR DESIGNATION #20000001: Sebastian Krueger AND SPECIAL CIVILIAN EXEMPTION: Dr. Anthony Berg
Dr. Berg informed me that my hallucinations were likely the result of the imprinting of the DNI data from Dale Eastman, a former Air Force pilot. His journals cited nightmares of a crash landing in the ocean that persisted throughout much of his life.
Is there anything we can do to curb the impacts of these imprints?
Kane sat on a small crate near the outskirts of the tarmac. In less than 60 minutes, she would be en route what could affectionately be called a warzone.
They were expecting the full force of the NRC, which meant there would likely be a sizable fleet of automatic defense systems. A tech expert like Kane was more needed than ever for a day like this. It was refreshing for her. She had spent a good portion of her time in the CIA sitting behind a desk, listening to an earpiece, and rapidly clacking at her keyboard when need be. This time, Kane would be, in a sense, on the front lines; she was charging into battle and her support was all but vital to the success of the mission. That's not to say she enjoyed being shot at, but a bit of excitement, and yes, even danger, was welcomed in short bursts.
She wondered why Taylor had chosen an aquifer as a fallback base. On the surface, it was a pretty terrible position; the NRC was only dominant because of their massive infantry, a raised platform in the middle of a desert didn't exactly play to their strong points. Taylor was intelligent enough to understand that the WA could knock down the entire structure in an hour if they wanted to.
Although it was worth noting that Taylor's tactical decisions had grown less and less sound as time went on. Re-staging a massacre to frame the 54i, disabling DEAD systems, deleting and corrupting data to cover their tracks, these were all clever, if nothing else. But sending out Hall by herself to take out an entire CIA squadron? Any soldier knows that is a battle Taylor's team could not possibly have won. It's almost as if Taylor wanted to lose.
Kane had a most terrible realization. Paszek had told her that Taylor, Hall, the whole team were being pushed, and almost completely controlled, by a virus of some sort. She started to put the pieces together in her head. Her theory was that John…the virus…or whatever he was, deployed Hall as a sacrificial lamb, not just to escape, but to spread the virus. He…it…knew that the WA would take her down and that Paszek, or at least somebody with a DNI would interface. She couldn't be entirely sure that she was correct…but it seemed more plausible the more she thought about it.
Kane was scared of being right in this situation. Every bone in her body wanted to believe that the enemy was not as smart, that they were a step behind. If her speculation turned out to be the truth…there would be no way to predict Taylor's next move, and no way to know how to deal with it. They would find themselves second and third guessing every decision.
Well, a little more than usual, anyway.
She checked the safety on her MR6 for the umpteenth time and headed out for her VTOL. Kane's only relief was that she didn't have the burden of flying one herself.
Paszek had read many books on the Russian assault of Berlin. Much of the world had forgotten the significance of the Soviet victory, giving more credit to the American's bombings of Japan. But the fall of Germany was what really secured the war for the Allies; Japan was more or less pinned down by that point (an official surrender was all that remained). Russia was the unstoppable force, and Berlin the immovable object. Of course Germany learned that day that no roots were strong enough to handle the mightiest wind.
He had tried to draw some comparisons between his upcoming mission and that of the Soviet Army in 1945, but they were harder to surmise than he expected. The Russian march towards Berlin was a campaign years in the making…he had only been chasing Taylor for what…a few days? But Paszek found feeling himself weary, as if this was a goal he'd been striving for his whole life.
On the bright side, though, Paszek certainly knew that what he was doing today was the right thing to do; he was taking back what was stolen from him. The Soviets had their freedom and homeland taken, and he his sanity. They wanted vengeance, and Paszek wanted answers. The sense of purpose he got from operation like this was what made him embrace military life in the first place.
And purpose was the one thing not in short supply.
Paszek knew that the world was ugly from up close. Poverty, death, sorrow, the land was soaked in them all. Blood and paint were just as common as one another. There was so much hate. So many misguided people thinking they will find solace in the suffering of others, fools so caught up creating civilization that they forget what it is along the way.
But one would never be able to notice even a hint of such plight from the skies. The cities they passed, including Al-Arish, from which they took off, all seemed so organized. Images of harmony came to mind, rather than horror. As the skyscraper's lights shined, one would picture floors of office cubicles, workers coming home to their families, laughter, and love. Sadly, the façade was not thick enough for those who had the displeasure of being in Al-Arish personally.
Everything had a sort of omniscient rhythm to it, a puzzle fitting together perfectly, even as more pieces were added. This was not limited to the urban centers; the monotony of the sand was calming, and the dunes seemed to curve in a pattern indistinguishable by words (or a mathematic function, for that matter). The many technological advancements made by humanity had thankfully failed to destroy the innate beauty of nature. In a sense, it may have made the wild that much more unique, by comparison.
The radical difference between his current visual perspective of the world and the one he had always known posed many questions to Paszek. Growing up in a ghastly and cynical America, he had given up on knowing whether or not there was a God in his teens. But flying over the landscape…it seemed too majestic to be just a random cosmic event. Again, his mind was flooded with conflicting observations and conclusions; eventually he came to a tentative resolution.
He reasoned that there had to be some higher power behind the scenes (or above them, rather). The world's very existence and the ever-present complexions of humanity were unexplainable without the thought of a god of sorts. This god had to be either a twistedly comedic, dreadfully inattentive, or both. How else could a world so beautiful from afar be such a mess up close?
Paszek rationalized that perhaps this god was unhappy with what he had created, and chose to wear rose-colored glasses, rather than fix the issue. Reasonably so, he thought, when the only true way to solve the problem of humanity was to eliminate it completely.
Woah. That was uncomfortably dark, even for Paszek. It was a strange sensation, being jarred by one's own thoughts.
But perhaps it was for the best; he was about 3 minutes until the ETA at the aquifer. It was time to focus on the mission at hand.
"In and out. Accomplish the objective at all costs." he repeated the mantra in his head a few dozen times. It worked. He was in the mindset of a soldier now. He would not hesitate and he would not question. He would be nothing but efficient. He would not worry about anything other than the mission.
He would not.
Damn.
That was the first thing that came to Kane's mind when she read Paszek's live combat feed. He had taken out a total of 14 ground-to-air drones in just under the 20 minutes they had been engaged with the NRC. Not to mention that his Minigun aim was scarily accurate; he hadn't even burned through a sixth of his ammunition taking out 103 infantry troops, and that number would continue to rise. Included in the list of confirmed kills were a disproportionately large number of soldiers with rocket launchers. Paszek was surveying specifically for the RPGs and targeting them.
Perhaps most astounding was Paszek's newly tested piloting skills. Every jet that had taken off from the aquifer base became a plummeting assortion of debris before they could even land a shot on any WA assets. Paszek had just taken out a NRC-commandeered Bullshark in a mere 14 seconds. And that was no fluke. Kane's eyes scrolled through the data table on her tablet just a smidge faster than the statistics appeared themselves; the average flight time of hostile aircraft was approximately 23 seconds. She was not so much impressed with his efficiency as she was surprised. Paszek would later go on to downplay the significance of his actions, citing that the on-board targeting systems made the job much easier than one would imagine. But Kane was a data junkie, and she knew there was no denying the raw stats.
Most fascinating to her, however, was the peculiar combination of calculation and (for lack of a better term) dumb bruteness that he channeled. Again trusting her analysis expertise, she pulled up Paszek's brain activity on her screen. His DNI allowed any person with the right level of clearance (her LNO status greatly exceeded this) to view the stream of data that his brain unloaded. To an average person, it was an incomprehensible mess of numbers, but an expert like Kane could see the patterns. Paszek's amygdala (known for controlling a person's temper) and his frontal lobe were the showed the most spikes (or "pings", Kane referred to them) in usage. This was quite the odd couple, as far as sections of the brain went. High frontal lobe activity was normal for soldiers; that's where the reasoning and motor skills are controlled. In certain situations, the amygdala would be commonplace as well, although generally it led to poor decisions. But the prevalence of both parts of the brain was unusual; a focused and collected soldier wouldn't be emotionally unmanageable in the midst of battle, just as a raging and angered soldier wouldn't the possess the same amount of finesse and logical capability.
A person of similar expertise likely would have concluded that they were being shown the brain data of two separate people, or possibly the same person at different chronological intervals.
Kane's thoughts were interrupted by the yells of her pilot, indicating that they were about land on the aquifer. She slid her tablet in its designated slot on her waist (because, yes, they were about as important as guns now), readied her MR6 pistol, and carefully walked towards the door. She then placed a finger on her earpiece to call for her backup.
"Paszek, I'm landing on the northwestern helipad. Swing around and cover while I disable their security systems."
Paszek responded within a few seconds. "Affirmative, Kane; en route to your position now."
Kane arched her head to see Paszek's VTOL quickly descend to the surface of the platform. He opened the hatch and hopped out, a heavily-modded KN-44 in hand.
She dropped from her jet and jogged towards Paszek, a bit confused as to why he exited his aircraft.
"I was assuming you would back me up from the air-" Kane started.
"Too much of a friendly fire hazard. Plus, we don't have any other ground troops here yet, and I can't risk putting you out there by yourself."
Kane gave a somewhat stunted annoyed look and starting pacing in the opposite direction, towards the access panel she needed to reach. Paszek followed several feet behind her, his head on a swivel looking for enemy activity.
Immediately in front of them stood 4 NRC soldiers, spread out in an arc shape about a dozen yards from each other. Paszek took out the 2 on the left with precise manual burst-fires, and Kane landed three fast body shots on another, followed by a headshot on the last remaining one. They continued to make their steady progress to the panel; Paszek pacified a few gunners and a sniper on a nearby balcony, while Kane make quick work of the ominously yellow-eyed grunts in their path.
Without too much difficulty, they managed to reach the security interface. Kane pried open the box with her bare hands and removed a pair of wire cutters from her belt.
"This takes two minutes, watch my back!" Kane shouted to Paszek. She had already begun meticulously yanking out wires of varying hue, length, and thickness.
Paszek nodded his head (although Kane's back was already turned) and focused down his red dot sight. He watched as some more NRC men began running to take strategic positions around the panel. Paszek dispatched three of them (who were foolishly lined up with one another) with a single well-placed rifle shot, and tossed a HIVE grenade up onto a neighboring scaffold, where a handful of soldiers met their incendiary deaths.
A bullet whizzed past his face, and the heat from it grazed his cheek. He turned to see a ghillied sniper crouched about a football field away. As the enemy pulled the bolt his weapon, Paszek carefully aimed down his sights and fired. Two shots managed to hit the sniper's right leg, while the others missed. Paszek swiftly panned a few meters upwards and shot at the small crane that overlooked the sniper's position. After making contact, the crane tumbled to the ground, a portion of it landing square on the enemy's chest, producing a surprising loud thud.
Paszek heard a faint electronic buzzing, and noticed a RAPS unit coming directly for him. He fired his rifle at the spiked drone, but it was accelerating too quickly to accurately judge a shot. Thankfully, he was able to land a hit on it before its explosion would be within the danger zone. He saw another two RAPS' speeding from his left, quickly firing in panic; the explosion from one of the robots destroyed the other as well.
However, unbeknownst to Paszek, a third unit beelined for him from the right; he didn't become aware of its impending physical presence until Kane, without taking her eyes off the control panel, reached for her MR6 and blew up the drones with two successive shots. Immediately after, she ripped out the final wire, emitting sparks from the security box.
"Damn." was all that Paszek could manage to say upon seeing the sight.
Kane smiled at him. "Damn, indeed."
Alright, that's Chapter 2! I'm trying to make my chapters a tad longer, about 3.5k words at the very minimum.
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. As always, I appreciate your support in any way possible, whether that be a favorite, a review, or just reading the story.
Thanks,
HopelesslyLonelyWriter