Shadowstrike

Four

Four

They asked her to stand, arms by her side. They told her to look straight ahead. Her Chief Supervisor, smaller than average, sweating, stood in front of her. Two assistants flanked him, with another couple behind. She’d already spotted the weapons on their hips.

There would be more personnel beyond the door and that huge mirror of one-way glass.

“State your assignation.”

“Full title NuGamma Eksi. Code NG6. Familiar Kesia,” she recited.

The Chief Supervisor nodded, and she noticed his blink, noticed the twitch in his trace as he made a note of her response somewhere in the system.

She studied him further. Five point eight seven metres tall, heart-rate ninety-three beats per second. His adrenaline was raised, and she read other data that indicated a state of mild arousal. He wore a white lab coat that had been washed the previous day, but was already infused with his odour. The heels of his boots were worn, indicating that he tilted back on his feet too much. They were not dirty, though‌—‌there was no dirt in this room, or any other she had been in.

At least, as far as she could recall.

“And what are you?” He swallowed as he raised one eyebrow.

What was she?

She didn’t need a mirror to know that she was far taller than any of those present in the room. Her tough skin was grey, coated in a fine down that helped regulate her temperature. She had no hair, though, none on her whole body‌—‌and she knew, without looking, that she was naked.

She took a moment to look inward. Her body was strong, and the blood that flowed through her veins and arteries was thick and rich with oxygen. White blood cells flowed too, and she mapped their movements, even though there was little for them to do at the moment. She had no injuries, and no weaknesses. Her bones were tough, her muscles fully-developed. Her whole body had been tweaked to provide maximum performance with minimal energy usage.

She was perfect.

“A NeoGen,” she said, and the Chief Supervisor exhaled.

“Good,” he said. “Good.” He consulted a screen on the desk by his side, and even though it was angled away from her, she knew what it displayed‌—‌an image of herself on one side, and data on the other. Some of the data flickered, and that was because it was reading information in real time. There were sensors on the walls around her, picking up heat and light, both visible and otherwise, as well as sound. There were further sensors, but they were buried within her body. They fed information back to the system through the node in the back of her neck.

She felt it, with her mind, and understood it. She also understood how she could control every aspect of her body, including exactly what data those sensors passed on.

“Let’s try something more interesting.” The man smiled at this, and his eyes flickered to the left, to the mirror behind which his superiors were no doubt observing. “We need to ensure your body is all that it should be.” He glanced down at her, his heartbeat increasing as he reached her waist.

She breathed in, tasting his trace. Yes. It was familiar. And with that familiarity came an image from her recent past‌—‌an image of herself on a soft slab, on her back, tubes and wires feeding from her body. Men and women worked around her, and he was one of them. He was always in the background, screen in hand, eyes flickering as his lattice and lenses manipulated information.

Now, his eyes rose to her face, staring at a spot just by her ear, avoiding direct eye contact.

“The suit is ready. If you would care to insert yourself.” He waved an arm to indicate a full-body suit of transparent material‌—‌if she concentrated, she was sure the exact chemical nature of it would come to her‌—‌that was open at the back, and connected to various pieces of machinery by wires.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded and climbed into the suit. One of the assistants stepped behind her and sealed the suit using the zips and tabs. The woman’s fingers shook, and her arms stretched because she stood too far back.

They were scared of her, then.

The Chief Supervisor tapped and swiped the screen, and pressure on her skin increased as the suit filled with a kind of liquid air, moisture suspended in gas, yielding but also firm. She was conscious of the liquid element coating her skin, and the gaseous part puffing the suit out. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

The pressure stabilised at precisely three atmospheres. Her body no longer touched the suit at all, and her feet were not on the ground.

“Kesia, can you still hear me?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but realised the suit and its contents would block any sound. Instead, she nodded.

The voice of the Chief Supervisor was more confident in her head than it had been in her ears.

she responded. There was no need to expand.

She moved an arm, pushing it through the heavy atmosphere, then brought a leg forward. The suit allowed movement, but it remained in the same spot in the room. She turned her head, following the cables to the desk, and noted how one of the assistants gazed down at a screen there.

She understood.

He turned to the assistant by the desk. “Did you record the response time? Excellent. And a perfect answer.” He turned back.

Kesia did. Two paces in, and she increased her speed, the suit providing pressure while sliding across the floor so that she was soon sprinting without moving.

The Chief Supervisor hadn’t stated any exact criteria‌—‌no time, or speed‌—‌so Kesia ran fast. She measured her paces, each one roughly one point five metres, and then she stretched with each step, increasing the distance by point zero five. She timed the paces, too, set her speed, then increased. Ten k per hour soon became twenty, then thirty.

She settled into a rhythm at thirty-five, one she knew she could keep up for a couple of hours.

The Chief Supervisor nodded, studying the data on his screen, and he seemed pleased. When he told her to stop, she did so in an instant, pushing her whole body against the inertia. It would be impossible to fall while bound up in the suit, but she knew her body would cope with a dead stop like that in reality too. The man jerked his head back, though, and Kesia knew she’d surprised him. But he recovered quickly.

She had followed his instructions. Comfort wasn’t a factor.

The tests continued. The suit simulated weights, and she pushed and pulled with every muscle in her body, individually and in groups. She was pleased with how strong her fingers were, and she experienced a yearning to put them to use‌—‌them, and her extended nails that were better described as talons.

She knew that being in this suit would only test her so far. Even when the air/liquid combination acted as air bombarding her, or water pounding her, it was still not the real thing.

Two hours and eighteen minutes from the time Kesia stepped into the suit, the Chief Supervisor swiped his screen and the suit deflated, the air rushing out and the moisture pooling at her feet, a minuscule tube syphoning it off. There was a blast of heat, and Kesia was dry.

The assistant unfastened her, and Kesia stepped out. Once again, the Chief Supervisor glanced at her and then averted his gaze, preferring to stare at his screen.

“So, how do you feel?”

“Good.” She could have explained in more detail, but she’d only be repeating the readings that were no doubt currently passing from the assistant’s screen to her Chief Supervisor’s lenses.

“Good.” He repeated that word, maybe because he was happy with what Kesia had just been through, or maybe because he wasn’t sure what else to say. He tapped the screen a few more times, then stood and motioned to the door behind her. “We’re ready to move on to the next stage. The suit’s fine for basic readings, but we won’t know what you’re really capable of until we observe you in combat.”