By Autumn Rain

Carol’s training was not progressing to captain Lambert’s satisfaction. Her opinion was that she was growing comfortable with the Suit at an impressive pace, but he constantly berated her for acting like a civilian. She didn’t understand what he was so hung up on, but it was a comfort to know that as the only person with full access to the Suit’s computer, she wasn’t going to be replaced any time soon.

Two weeks passed before the morning that Lambert pounded on Carol’s door to wake her, yelling, “Rise and shine, commander!” as he did so. Still groggy, she stumbled over to let him in. In her half-conscious state, it took her a minute to realize that he was not alone.

“Captain!” she exclaimed, now wide awake. “What is he doing here?”

Master sergeant Hartmann glared at her but remained quiet. His arm was in a cast, but she noticed that there were pink fingers poking out of the end – he had kept his hand after all. Unconsciously, she stepped closer to Lambert, hoping that he would put Hartmann in a headlock if necessary. Outside of the Suit, she felt increasingly diminutive and fragile as a human, to the point that she worried she would die if anyone so much as slapped her. It was irrational, but she was starting to feel more like herself in the Suit than in her own body.

“Calm down, Carol, he’s been neutered,” Lambert muttered. “I brought him in for consulting.”

She didn’t think she had reacted that badly, but Lambert was skilled at reading her nervous quirks, and she often suspected that he had a background in psychology.

Hartman scowled, obviously not appreciating the captain’s description of him. “The word is, you suck at piloting the Suit,” he growled, but Lambert rapped him on top of his head.

“Easy, boy. We don’t want to upset our commander before the mission even begins. She’ll be plenty upset later,” he said.

Carol wondered if Lambert had taken a class on how to insult everyone around him in one go, or if it as just a natural talent of his. At the very least, Hartmann’s expression softened somewhat.

“Get ready, Carol, and have a light breakfast. You won’t want to go in hungry, but count on barfing it all up later. You have thirty minutes, then report to Bunker One,” Lambert ordered. “C’mon MSG Hartmann, lets get to work.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Carol asked, blocking Lambert from leaving. He stared down at her amused, probably because she was a good eight inches shorter than him.

“You have your first real mission today. Congratulations.” He easily brushed her aside, leaving her to gawk after him.

Oh no.

Carol tried to follow the captain’s advice, but her stomach was so tied up in knots that she couldn’t even choke down water, let alone anything solid. She wasn’t ready to go out into the field, she told herself over and over. If she explained it to him politely and asked for more time, then maybe Lambert would understand and postpone the whole thing, so she could become more familiar with the Suit’s weapons system.

An epiphany struck her like lightning, and she understood why Lambert was always so angry at her. Her idea was stupid, and nothing else.

The captain already knew she wasn’t ready. He had probably already postponed the mission for as long as he could, and bringing in Hartmann was his last-ditch effort to salvage the situation. If she failed, he would suffer the consequences as her direct superior.

Carol cussed herself out as well. She deserved it for treating her training like a vacation, rather than accepting the eventuality that she would have to go into battle.

She already felt like throwing up. Thinking about the impending mission made her lightheaded, and she worked herself up into such a panic, Holmes had to help her walk in to the bunker.

Lambert took one look at her and shouted, “GODDAMMIT CAROL! You haven’t learned a single fucking thing in the last two weeks! Get in the Suit and get ahold of yourself, pronto!”

Carol had to suppress her tears, knowing full well that she was pathetic. Hartmann looked disgusted and ashamed, refusing to make eye contact with her as she passed him by. As his replacement, she was an affront to everything he had achieved during his service.

However, once she was situated inside the Suit, she began to feel better. Even if her human body was squidgy and weak, the Suit was indestructible and would keep her from harm. She just had to accept the idea that she was going to have to use the weapons system, and maybe the Suit would automatically compensate for her queasy stomach, like it had before. It was going to be no big deal, she told herself.

Lambert handed her a flash drive. “Plug that in. It contains a map to your destination,” he explained, his voice already sounding defeated.

She found the port and inserted it, then closed the doors. The Suit sprang to life, gave her the squeeze that she had come to consider as a hug hello, and she was free to move. “All right, what do I do?” she asked through the radio.

The captain nodded to Hartmann, who answered, “Say, access removable drive to pull up the map, then set it to autopilot. The Suit will fly you there.”

The master sergeant’s involvement was definitely a low point, but Carol did as he instructed. Jets roared on, and in a flash Carol was through the bunker doors and flying through the clouds. That was a high point, she decided, growing euphoric at hurtling through the sky. She was so giddy, she decided to indulge her curiosity.

“Hey, master sergeant, what happened to you?” she asked. “I thought you ran.”

“I tried,” he replied grimly, his voice tinny through the radio without the familiar deep pitch of Lambert’s. “This is the fucking military though, remember? I didn’t get very far.”

“So where have you been?” Carol was growing smug, privately laughing at Hartmann’s failure to escape. She imagined him underneath a pile of soldiers, screaming like a toddler as they took him into custody. He had tears in his eyes, too, and begged for the chance to ask for her forgiveness when he realized the futility of his situation.

“The hospital,” he replied, cutting through Carol’s fantasy.

“Commander, this is classified information,” Lambert’s voice interrupted, and something about it was a relief. She liked knowing he was still there, listening to everything.

There must have been some words shared off the air, because Hartmann continued explaining a few minutes later, “The doctors have discovered that the Suit was changing the structure of my brain. Pretty soon here, they’ll want to start running some tests on you, too, so I hope you like being probed while wearing a hospital gown.”

She had stopped paying attention, instead watching the altitude numbers decrease on the visor. “Oh, wait, I think I’m reaching my destination,” Carol said. “Um, what do I do after that?”

“None of our guys are going to be there, so don’t worry about friendly fire. Just… make everything explode, okay? Don’t think about it,” Lambert replied, completely devoid of his usual confidence.

“The weapons system has auto-targeting. Tell it to use missiles, and the Suit will do everything for you. Mostly. Avoid being hit by heavy artillery if you can,” Hartmann added. “This was supposed to be my mission, so don’t you dare fail it.”

They were scared, which made Carol scared as well. The Suit landed in some sort of encampment, and thirty seconds later she was surrounded by men who were all shooting various guns at her. The worst part was, she could see their faces, which made her terrified that she would see them die as well. She couldn’t do this on her own, and she no longer cared about being overheard.

“Access help!” she screamed.

“Accessing help system,” the computer answered.

Again, Carol’s mind divided, and all of her emotions floated away. With the help system active, tactical options and operational parameters arrayed themselves in her awareness; her consciousness merged with the suit, making it easy to stop thinking of her targets as people. She had been given orders to blow everything up, and that’s what she was going to do.

“Weapons system, find and eliminate all targets within a fifty-foot radius, living and non-living; use thermal tracking, and do not allow anyone to retreat. Evade incoming fire as necessary.”

The next several minutes were a complex dance as she rained hellfire on her surroundings, the woman ceasing to exist as an individual separate from the Suit. In that moment, she forgot that she was human.

It was over just as suddenly as it had begun. Carol found herself standing in the middle of smoke and fire, unaffected by the dying screams that echoed around her. She scanned for anything else that needed to be destroyed and, satisfied with her work, announced, “Mission complete. All enemy targets have been eliminated.”

Next

It was after dark when Carol was granted freedom. She was so exhausted and sore that she was tempted to crawl straight into bed, but she couldn’t go to sleep without taking care of something first. She ignored Holmes following her to maintain the pretense of sneaking out, and made her way to Bunker One, stopping at the janitor’s closet first. With her artillery of cleaning supplies, she made her way to the Suit.

There was an armed guard, who spoke into his radio as soon as he saw her. The reply must have been in Carol’s favor, because he made no move to stop or redirect her. Since the ramp was still a mangled mess that had yet to be replaced, she set down her bucket next to the Suit, then ran back out to fetch a step ladder from the closet as well. Finally, with her soft polishing cloth and cleaning spray, she set to work.

The metal gleamed under her touch, and she caressed every contour with tenderness, ensuring that everything was clean and smooth, as it should be. Her heart pounded and her breath quickened as she worked, unconsciously parting her lips as she moved closer to examine the paint for any specks of dust that would dull its luster. With familiarity, she parted the doors to expose the leather interior, which she gently wiped down to remove any lingering smell of musty human, smiling all the while.

“Who’s going to be your Keeper now?” she wondered out loud. “I don’t think I could stand watching someone else taking care of you.”

Despite herself, Carol realized why Hartmann had been hostile towards her. Now that she was beginning to understand what it was like inside the Suit, she didn’t care for the idea of anyone else touching it either. However, unlike him, she could never try to hurt anyone. She could be catty, but not violent.

Carol touched her forehead to the headrest, then closed her eyes and murmured, “This feels like home.”

A small light beeped on, followed by a whine of electronics. “Activate homing beacon,” the computer answered.

Carol looked back at the soldiers. They hadn’t heard or noticed. Holmes was looking at a cellphone that he kept half hidden, likely texting his girlfriend on the sly. The guard had the glazed look of someone who was ready to be relieved at the end of their shift, and was not paying any attention to her. After all, she was only cleaning.

Butterflies filled her stomach, and Carol turned back to the Suit. “Yes,” she whispered furtively. “Activate homing beacon.” She didn’t know why she did it, other than the anticipation that something exciting was guaranteed to happen as a result.

The computer beeped, then turned off, leaving Carol to wonder what had happened and why. Perhaps she had activated an offline or emergency mode, but she couldn’t tell if a beacon had been sent or not. At the very least, it had been quiet, so she wouldn’t have to mention it to anyone and possibly get into trouble over it. She knew that Lambert would certainly cuss her out if he learned.

After she closed the Suit and climbed down from the ladder, Carol packed up her supplies and left quickly. Holmes jogged after her a minute later, but she didn’t pay him any mind. She went straight for the solitude of her room to brood.

Next

“Hey, Holmes…” Carol paused to take a bite of her bagel and chewed slowly. Holmes waited, then turned away to suppress a snicker, and she knew she was never going to hear the end of it. “Why was CPT Lambert totally different from yesterday?” she asked her question anyway, ignoring his giddiness.

“Easy. You’re his subordinate now,” Holmes replied. “It’s his responsibility to make sure you succeed.”

“Why does he need to yell at me so much? It’s…” Carol thought hard, then exclaimed, “discombobulating!”

Holmes lost himself in another fit of laughter. “I bet all your friends think that you’re the life of the party,” he chuckled. “Too bad you’re basically classified now, huh?”

“It won’t make much of a difference.” Carol traced a figure eight on the table with a blob of cream cheese to keep herself distracted. Holmes hadn’t been in the room for the General’s assessment of her, but it was frankly accurate. She lived for her work, and didn’t even keep so much as a goldfish at home for company. Truth be told, she liked the loneliness better than the sense of being a misfit that plagued her through every interaction, but it was not something she could explain to someone as normal as Holmes.

“I’ve got a girl back home, and I’m going to marry her as soon as she graduates from college. We’ve been sweethearts since we were kids.” Holmes was staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Sometimes you remind me of her, only she’s – you know – younger, prettier, and smarter.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Carol replied sarcastically.

“Sometimes she has anxiety too, though she manages it through yoga and meditation – she swears it works wonders. You should try it too.”

“Who says I have anxiety?” Carol asked, feeling irritated.

“CPT Lambert told me while you were in the Suit. Don’t worry, we’re not judging you for it, he just wanted to make sure I didn’t mock you too much after this morning’s exercise. It was pretty hilarious.”

Carol wasn’t sure what to make of that revelation; she couldn’t tell if Lambert was a friend or not, which made interpreting his actions impossible. His instructions to Holmes could have been well-intentioned like the way he helped her down from the Suit, or patronizing like the way he called her ‘commander.’ Maybe he was a frenemy, or a friendly enemy. Or simply her superior officer.

“How do I write a report?” she asked to change the topic.

“Just write up a detailed journal entry, and Lambert will take care of the rest for now. Don’t sweat it.”

“All right, Holmes, escort me to my room. I’m done eating.” Carol stood. Internally she felt a strange tempest that had never bombarded her before, tearing her between her naturally complacent approach to life and her displeasure over how she was treated by all those military men. She felt obligated to prove that there was more to her than what they thought, then shied at the idea of having to take on more responsibilities. All she really cared about was the Suit, and they were an inconvenient but necessary part of piloting it. She decided that she would just go along with their behavior rather than risk compromising her privileges. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway; she had already been pigeonholed as ‘obedient’ and ‘unambitious’, and that was the reality of who she was.

Forty-five minutes later, after agonizing and rewriting to achieve a dazzling 226 word essay coupled with a completely blank mind, Carol asked Holmes to take her to Lambert’s office. As she put her report down on his desk, disheartened by the emptiness of it, she said, “I’m sorry that this morning wasn’t very productive.”

“To the contrary, it was a very informative session.” Lambert stuffed the paper into a folder without reading it, much to Carol’s dismay. “For example, we learned that the Suit imitates the body language of its pilot.”

“What?” She was astounded. “But you’ve had lots of different people in it, right?”

“Indeed, commander, I’ve even piloted it myself.” Lambert looked at her intently in the eye, causing her to drop her gaze and shift uncomfortably. “The problem was, every damn one of us was trained military. You’re the first civilian to ever go inside.”

“When can I pilot it again?” Carol asked.

“Later. First, you need to know how to be a soldier.” Lambert motioned for her to sit down. “You obviously aren’t physically built for boot camp, but given the unusual nature of this situation, I’m going to train you personally. We can’t send you out into the field to get everyone killed without first saying we tried our best, now can we, commander.”

“No, sir,” Carol answered meekly, her face burning.

“Don’t you worry your little head about it, you’re in good hands.” Lambert grinned as he cracked his knuckles. “Let’s begin.”

Next

Carol was wide awake, despite having spent a fitful night in an unfamiliar bed that was nothing like home, and she arrived with her escort at the bunker ten minutes early. She held her breath as she approached the Suit and slowly ascended the ramp, until she was close enough to touch it with her fingertips. The joints of metal and the soft gleam of color were familiar, yet entirely new. She had spent two years lovingly caring for something that she was only now beginning to understand, and it was more beautiful than she had imagined.

“Carol!” the captain barked, and she whipped around, clumsily saluting. “Get down here!”

“Yes sir!” She tried to run, but her feet got out from under her as she went down the ramp, and ended in a heap at the bottom. Lambert rolled his eyes, then strode over to hold out his hand to her.

“Up! We have work to do!”

It was incongruous, but Carol grabbed hold of him to pull herself up to her feet anyway. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small radio, which he clipped onto her collar then fed the wire up to her ear, his hands surprisingly deft and gentle.

“You’re in the goddamn military, and you couldn’t be bothered to pull your hair back,” he muttered. “Where’s your mascara and lipstick? Didn’t you want to look purdy?”

The rudeness of his speech made her blush, and she had to force the reply, “Sorry, sir. No one told me the dress code, sir.”

“You could go naked for all I care.” Lambert stepped back and folded his hands behind his back. “Now get your butt in the Suit, pronto!”

“Yes sir!” Carol practically scrambled up the ramp to jump in the Suit, carefully situating herself before pushing the button to close it, pressing herself back into the leather at the memory of what the door had done to the master sergeant’s hand.

“Carol, do you read me?” the captain called.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, already growing a little tired of the repetition, but she didn’t know how else to answer him. She wasn’t personable enough to try anything clever, and having only ever observed protocol as an outsider, she wasn’t familiar enough with ranks to know what was expected of her. In fact, she wasn’t even sure how she was supposed to fit in.

The Suit lit up, followed by the computer voice, “User detected: welcome back, Commander.” Carol closed her eyes and held her breath in anticipation of being squeezed.

“Interesting…” Lambert’s muttered. “See what else you can find.”

Carol waited until after the release, and butterflies filled her stomach as she took in deep breaths of the circulated air, marveling at the pureness the internal filters provided. She wanted to run and jump, and perhaps even try her hand at flying, but she could see Lambert waiting expectantly through the visor.

“Access system data,” she said, and a list popped up in front of her eyes. “Uh… let’s see… select product information?”

Captain Lambert rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked over at Holmes, who dutifully stood at ease with a poorly concealed smile on his face. She realized that the radio was transmitting everything she said for everyone around to hear, and she hated the invasion of her privacy. “What do you see?” Lambert asked.

“There are model and serial numbers; would you like me to read them out loud so you can record them?”

“Go ahead.”

Carol glanced out and saw that Lambert’s little notepad was in his hand again. As she read the numbers off, she wondered what other sorts of things he wrote down, and if his personal thoughts made it onto paper as well. She also wondered if Lambert ever had personal thoughts, or if the military was all he lived for. When she finished, she added, “There’s also an OS listed, called Auriga.”

“Good work, commander.” He was definitely mocking her. “Now search for some sort of log.”

“Um… access user history,” Carol said, and the overlay changed. The listed information was surprisingly brief. “It says, 435-4-23 user created; 438-2-17 launch; 466-10-3 access help system; 466-10-4 access system records.” She repeated all of the information again, to make sure that Lambert had been able to write it accurately, then asked, “What does that mean?”

“That’s not your job to think about.” Lambert pocketed his notepad. “Outside, commander. Let’s try some laps in the Suit.”

Finally, the moment Carol had been waiting for: moving. Without thinking, she willed the Suit to take a step forward, then let out a shriek at the sound of metal crunching, and backed up to discover that the ramp was badly misshapen. Holmes was no longer pretending not to laugh.

“GODDAMMIT CAROL!” Lambert was really shouting now. “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!” He continued ranting, “You are in a formidable piece of equipment, so do not destroy the base through stupidity and incompetence. DO YOU UNDERSTAND!”

“Yes sir!” Carol had tears in her eyes, and wished that she could initiate the help system again so that it could take away the pain of humiliation, but she didn’t want the captain to overhear.

“Now, without damaging anything else, go through those doors.”

Both Lambert and Holmes followed her in a four-wheeler from a safe distance, which stung even more than the yelling had. Even if she had completely forgotten about the ramp for a moment, she was mindful enough that she wouldn’t hurt anyone, and was more aware of the Suit’s size and position than she was of her own body. The sun was in the middle of rising when they exited the bunker, and the view through the visor was more spectacular than anything Carol had ever seen before.

“Captain…” she hesitated. “Do we know what the visor is made of?”

“No, commander, we don’t,” he answered, though he was far enough away that he needed to use the radio.

“It refracts sunlight like a prism, only not with any colors that I’ve ever seen before. It’s kind of trippy, and giving me a headache.” She kept her eyes fixed on the sunrise despite herself, just staring.

“Come down off the LSD, commander, and focus.” Lambert’s voice was amused, even if his words were not. “I want you to run down the air strip and pay attention to your top speed, but try not to kill anything in the process.”

“Yes, sir.” Carol looked down the asphalt in front of her, took a deep breath, and began to run. She didn’t feel the instant burn of muscle fatigue that she was accustomed to, and with a sense of wonder she reminded herself that she wasn’t actually running at all, but instead moving the mechanical body of the Suit; her brain couldn’t functionally tell the difference. Her heart soared as the number in the corner of the visor grew bigger and bigger, and she couldn’t help but leap with joy over how fast she was moving, the jump soaring several hundred feed before landing. Turning around, she sprinted back to where Lambert and Holmes were waiting in the four-wheeler, and was surprised to see Lambert smash his clipboard on the dashboard.

“Goddammit!” he cussed again. “Carol, you move like a fucking civilian!”

Holmes was doubled over with laughter, and she could hear his voice caught through the radio, “She runs like a girl… a giant, mechanical girl… prancing at 150 miles per hour!” He lost himself with giddiness, and Lambert kicked him in the behind.

“Compose yourself, private,” he barked. “That’s enough for today, Carol, park it inside.”

It was much easier to get inside than out, but with the ramp destroyed, Carol found herself staring down at a five-foot drop when she opened up the Suit. It was high enough that she didn’t want to jump, but she didn’t trust her climbing skills either. Lambert surprised her by coming over and holding up his arms.

“Come on, commander, we haven’t got all day,” he snapped.

Carol let herself drop, then was instantly afraid that he had used the opportunity to prank her. It was a relief when his hands closed around her torso, and he slowly lowered her until her feet touched the floor.

“Get some breakfast before you write your report, then come to my office for some schooling. We are going to beat that civilian out of you, commander,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Carol saluted.

Next

Carol held her breath as the suit began to squeeze against her, gaining terrifying intensity until it abruptly released and she felt as light as a feather. She didn’t dare move, however, staring at the master sergeant and wondering if he would let her out of the Suit. The irrational part of her hoped that he would apologize profusely, then head off to the medical bay to explain the truth and take his lumps, so to speak, so she could get her to get back to her job like nothing had ever happened.

The sight of blood and his dangling hand made her feel dizzy, and Carol was sure she would faint. She had not been trained for combat, and had never imagined herself getting anywhere near anything that could be dangerous or gruesome. As if in response, the air inside the Suit turned cool and her head began to clear, making her wonder if it had automatically increased the oxygen content.

The master sergeant’s face had gone white, and after a seemingly long period of simply staring, he reached for the radio attached to the collar of his uniform. “The Suit has been hijacked, repeat, the Suit has been hijacked,” he said. “This is MSG Hartmann, reporting casualties, in Bunker One.”

“Okay,” Carol whispered to herself. “Just sit tight, and explain everything when they get here. The security cameras should back up my story, so I just have to keep calm.” No one knew that the Suit had called her ‘commander’, and she could keep that a secret till the day she died. Maybe. At the very least, she needed to escape her present situation without getting killed, or worse, fired, and that was going to keep her from wondering about anything else for a while.

Despite herself, sweat began to tickle her brow. No one was going to calmly listen to her, at least not at any point where it was going to matter for her personally. The master sergeant had accused her of highjacking, and the life of a simple cleaner wasn’t going to matter anywhere near as much as ensuring that the military never lost the Suit. They would storm the bunker with their guns blazing, and she would die the moment she left her protective armor without ever getting a single word out. She was trapped.

A menu appeared on the visor in front of her eyes, and in despair Carol thought that it wasn’t intuitive at all. “I don’t know what it means!” she shouted at the computer. “Help me!”

“Accessing help system,” the computer voice answered, and Carol expected the overlay on the visor to change. Instead, her whole body began to tingle, followed be the strangest sensation she had ever experienced, as if her mind had split in two and the panicked part of her had simply floated away. No one had ever said anything about the Suit being capable of something like that before.

She was now thinking clearly. When the soldiers stormed the bunker, she was ready.

“Access on-board camera and audio, and project video; set height to ten feet,” she ordered the computer confidently, surprising even herself. The Suit flashed a light in front of it, forming a screen in the air. “Begin replay, starting point minus … ten minutes.” She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, and hoped that she had gone back far enough.

Hartmann had ducked behind the line of soldiers, and was in the process of receiving first aid when the replay began. The recording of Carol protested, followed by the echo of his voice loudly filling the room with the words, “You think I care? You’ll have a fatal accident long before you report anything to anyone.”

He forcefully knocked down the medic and bolted before anyone else had the chance to react, clutching the bandages to his wrist and praying that he wasn’t leaving a trail of blood for them to follow. He had acted rashly in a moment of passion, and now he was going to pay the price with not only his rank, but likely his hand as well. All he wanted now was to get away as fast as possible.

After the soldiers had been ordered to stand down, Carol opened up the Suit and stepped out with a smile of relief. She felt high, even as she was seized on both sides and taken to a small dark room, where she was left to wait alone. She was giddy, like she had just made love to her high school crush for the first time, and she was hopelessly caught up in the thought of doing it again. If she was ever let near the Suit after this, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from nestling inside.

The door opened, and a captain stepped in. He looked down at his watch, then up at Carol. “The General is on his way,” he announced. “We’ll begin then. For now, I want a written statement from you of what occurred.” He set down a pad of paper and a pen on the table in front of her.

Carol hesitated, wondering how truthful she should be.

“This isn’t official,” the captain said quietly, leaning over her. “But I have to ask: how did you know the Suit has recording equipment installed? We could have clarified a certain number of missions had we known about it.”

“I accessed the help system,” Carol replied, her hand beginning to shake. She was abruptly coming down from her exhilaration, and all she really wanted to think about was what it had been like inside the Suit.

“No one has ever found a help system before,” the captain pressed. “How did you know that existed?”

“I just asked for help.” She was growing flustered.

He slammed his hand down on the table, making Carol jump. “Tell me, how did you do it?”

“It wasn’t in safe mode,” she admitted meekly. “The Suit recognized me as a user.”

The captain gaped at her for a moment. “You’ve been inside before, then?”

“No, never. I just clean it.” Carol folded her hands together tightly and stared down at them in her lap. “I don’t know why that happened. If you check the video, you’ll see that I didn’t want to get inside, and that I had been forced to. It’s on the video,” she repeated, “as plain as day.”

“We saw that you were threatened. However, we still don’t see why you closed and activated the Suit, and we strongly feel that your conduct was questionable.” The captain sat down and looked at his watch again. “Hurry up and write your report. I want that done before the General arrives.”

“Am I going to lose my job?” Carol asked.

“Start writing, and worry about that later.”

Her hand was now shaking badly, and her handwriting was barely legible. Carol didn’t know how to put the events into words, and she was certain that her nerves were lowering her IQ by at least a dozen points. All she could think about was how, after she had found true satisfaction and clarity in her life, she would never be allowed anywhere near the Suit again. Maybe she would spend the rest of her days in a cell, forever wondering why it had called her ‘commander’, and never having the chance to learn.

The door opened, and the captain stood and saluted. The General took one look at Carol, and began to laugh.

“From the looks of you, this is a little absurd for me to ask, but how would you like a promotion?”

Next