Tag: scifi

Stories, The Scion Suit

Scion Part 2

Autumn

But that wasn’t what happened.

Hartmann was summoned back to the Base the next day, and waited in the bunker with no explanation of what was supposed to happen. He stared at the Suit and ached to touch it the way the cleaning lady did, but his training kept him in his position, ready to salute the moment a superior appeared to deliver orders. He mused over the possibility that some new intel had dropped, and he was on the verge of being sent out on another mission. In a matter of time, he would return home a hero, and the incident with Carol would be as forgotten as completely as she was.

What he did not anticipate was Captain Lambert to appear with Carol in tow. She was pale, and hid behind Lambert’s large frame to avoid Hartmann’s burning gaze, seeming even more timid and nervous than she had before. If he hadn’t been so annoyed over her reappearance, he would have found her behavior cute.

“MSG Hartmann,” Lambert said brusquely, “You are to assist me in training a new pilot for the Suit.”

Hartmann’s hackles rose sharply. “Who?” he demanded without any of the expected deference. “That bitch?”

Carol’s eyes teared up as her head swung away, her hands wringing together as she tried to shrink into herself behind Lambert’s back. It wasn’t the captain’s barked out punishment that twinged Hartmann with contrition, so much as the way Carol failed to defend herself against the word. He had expected her to bite back at him, to fling insults and posture as if she had a chance in a fight against him. Anything that would show that she thought of herself as too tough for him to feel guilty over. Compared to all the other women Hartmann had known, Carol seemed unnaturally quiet.

The way Lambert moved to shield her filled him with jealousy.

There was no way the captain was smitten with Carol. She was too pathetic and plain. All she had going for her was the fact that she cleaned the Suit … and the way her hair brushed the top of her petite shoulders, promising a feminine clavicle hidden underneath the neckline of her t-shirt. Hartmann thought about how she had felt under his hands, and how her soft muscles had struggled to pull away from him without any success.

Hartmann was the Suit’s pilot, and Carol was the cleaning lady. If she was going to belong to anyone, it was going to be him.

Not Lambert.

But he was determined to punish her for turning his world upside down.

Hartmann added extra energy into every push up, boosting himself off the floor to clap before catching himself again, purely for the sake of showing off. When he was through, he smugly noted the displeasure on Lambert’s face, and the amazement in Carol’s eyes.

“As I was saying,” Lambert continued gruffly, “The Suit considers Carol to be its ‘commander,’ and orders have come down for us to train her on how to pilot it.”

“You expect me to believe that, sir?” Hartmann narrowed his eyes.

“I verified it myself.” Lambert crossed his arms over his chest. “During the incident you created, the Suit automatically turned on and welcomed Carol as the ‘commander’ while she was inside. She has full access to all the Suit’s records, as well as a number of features that we never dreamed of. While you were lazing around at home, Carol and I were up digging through as much information as we could.”

Hartmann was lost for words. The muscle in his jaw twitched, but his teeth were locked together. He stared as Lambert proceeded to brush Carol’s hair back and clip a receiver onto her t-shirt, stared as the cleaning lady looked to the captain for reassurance who in turn gave her a small nod, and stared as she climbed up the ramp and enclosed herself inside the Suit. His Suit.

“Carol,” Lambert spoke into his radio, and it crackled as she replied,

“Here, sir.”

Then, disbelievingly, a computer voice sounded over the radio: “Welcome back, Commander.”

Was that why Carol had slid out of the Suit in an inexplicable daze the day before? Did she genuinely have a connection with it that he could never understand?

It wasn’t fair.

He was the best pilot.

He got the most important missions.

Why should the cleaning lady appear out of nowhere and take away his glory?

“Now, Carol, MSG Hartmann is going to be a good boy and coach you through how to move the Suit. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that he plays nice,” Lambert spoke into his end of the radio, then gave Hartmann a warning scowl as he handed it over. “I mean it,” he growled. “Follow orders, and play nice.”

“Yes, sir,” Hartmann replied sulkily, then found his throat too thick to speak to Carol. He had to clear it first, then pushed the button to transmit, “The best way to explain it is that you connect your mind to the Suit, and after that walking should be as intuitive as it is with your own body. Don’t overthink it; just let it happen naturally.”

Silence answered, and Hartmann wished that Carol was more verbal. He missed the nonstop noise that usually surrounded women, that left no mystery as to what they were thinking. Dealing with Carol felt a lot like going up against a wall, with no way of knowing what he was going to find on the other side if he managed to break it down. It was frustrating. Unnerving.

Then the Suit took a step forward, and the two men jumped back as the screech of twisting metal filled the bunker. In one fell swoop, Carol had completely destroyed the ramp.

Hartmann stared as a grin crept across his face, then doubled over in laughter. Lambert cussed profusely, shouting into the radio, “God fucking dammit, Carol! Watch where you’re going!” It was satisfying to imagine her crying inside the cockpit as the captain 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. Sorry, sir,” Carol’s voice sounded broken, but her mental connection with the Suit was continuing to improve. Hartmann could see that it was imitating her body language, trying to curl up and disappear, which was comical for a 12-foot mecha. There were definitely tears on her cheeks, and it was time for him to wipe them away, so to speak.

He reached over to take the radio back, and purred, “Don’t sweat it, that was only the ramp. Give your legs a stretch, and see how it feels … just remember to be mindful of your surroundings.”

Lambert crossed his arms over his chest and growled, “Get her to the airfield, then join me in the jeep.”

Hartmann was satisfied as Lambert stormed away, certain that his sour mood wasn’t over the wrecked ramp. “All right, the captain wants us outside,” he spoke into the radio. “You up for it?”

“Yes, sir,” Carol replied dutifully, so he answered playfully,

“Save that for the captain. I want you to call me … master sergeant.”

She was silent, confused by his behavior as she went through the massive double doors that had been pulled open, and Hartmann followed her outside, ordering her to jog down the length of the airfield.

He dropped his affectation as soon as he was seated next to Lambert in the jeep. Carol was adapting to the Suit much faster than he had, despite his intuitive grasp of it, and the way she moved around the airfield was too natural – to the point of becoming unnatural. Hartmann knew that he was the best damn pilot to ever climb inside the Suit, but that was all he did: pilot. Carol, on the other hand … she was inhabiting it like a second skin, especially as she was becoming more and more comfortable with moving around the airfield. It crossed his mind that, with the way she was catching on, the Suit could have been made for her.

Commander.

Hartmann had been in the military for far too long to let anything show on his face. His instructions to Carol over the radio became more mechanical and routine, but his thoughts remained perfectly hidden. He almost managed to keep them from himself, but as he stared it was undeniable that she was better at maneuvering the Suit than he was, even despite lacking the discipline that would have given her grace and efficiency.

“The Suit is following her body language more than I expected,” Lambert muttered beside Hartmann, though he was speaking more to himself. “She’ll need to be physically trained to clean up that sloppiness.”

Hartmann shrugged, muttering “Yes, sir,” when he failed to come up with an obnoxious reply. He had never watched the way he piloted the Suit from the outside, and he wondered if it responded similarly to his movements, or acted more like a robot.

Lambert continued, reluctantly saying, “You will work with her on the track this afternoon while I attend to other duties. You will be courteous, considerate, and respectful, and you will not make her cry. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Hartmann echoed. He had to stop himself from asking why the captain cared so much about the cleaning lady’s feelings in a world where tender emotions were a dangerous weakness. He already knew the answer.

Sometime later when they were back inside the bunker, Carol parked the Suit in its usual place, opened the doors, then stood hesitantly looking down at the drop to the floor. Hartmann wondered why she hadn’t kneeled in the Suit first, given that she was the one who destroyed the ramp and knew damn well that it wouldn’t be there, but Lambert stepped forward and held up his arms.

“Come on, we haven’t got all day,” he snapped, but Hartmann recognized the false gruffness of someone who had adapted to his rank to survive.

She cautiously dropped down to Lambert, and his hands closed around her waist as he lowered her to the floor. His fingertips curled in slightly, and trailed along her t-shirt as he pulled his hands away, his face too stony to be anything other than a mask. Carol was appropriately oblivious, which Hartmann found soothing; he wasn’t the only one she completely failed to notice.

“Get some lunch, then report to MSG Hartmann for physical training,” Lambert ordered. “Like it or not, we’re going to beat the civilian out of you, commander.”

“Yes, sir,” Carol replied, then turned and trotted to join some corporal that Hartmann only vaguely recognized. An assigned escort, he hoped.

Having time alone with Carol was going to give Hartmann the advantage, and if he worked his magic right, Lambert wasn’t going to stand a chance. Underneath the boring beige of her existence, he’d bet anything that Carol was still a woman, and still susceptible to his charms.

If the Suit couldn’t belong to him anymore, then he was going to claim ownership of the next best thing.

The Scion Suit

Scion Part 1

Autumn

Master sergeant Hartmann wasn’t certain when he had first begun to notice the cleaning lady. Two years prior, more for the sake of politics than anything else, the General had declared that they were going to improve national security by limiting the soldiers’ access to the Suit, and a civilian was picked out of the Base’s janitorial staff to be the designated caretaker of the military’s top asset. It turned out to be a plain, mousy woman, who quietly devoted herself to the job then faded into the background as another functioning cog, and business moved on as usual.

Hartmann was by far the best at piloting the Suit. Although it was alien technology, he had an intuitive understanding of how to operate it, and was consequently given all of the important missions. He had already been considered something of a hero due to his ‘bravery’ and ‘leadership’ beforehand, but the Suit had skyrocketed him to the status of a superstar. He was worshiped by those below his rank, and greatly respected by those above. It was unspoken, but everyone pinned their hopes of winning the war on his abilities, and he was more than willing to accept the mantle.

Yet, somehow, the moments he had spent basking in the adulation of a job well done melted away as the cleaning lady took up more and more of his awareness.

There were moments when it was comical to watch her, a slim 5’4” woman standing on a stepladder with a soapy sponge, contrasted against the 12-foot mecha that she rigorously scrubbed. However, when she worked on detailing the interior, it stung to realize that she was more intimately familiar with the Suit than he was. He felt like the interloper, good for a wild ride before the Suit returned home to its loving family. He never had the liberty to simply touch and examine the Suit, no matter how much time he spent inside.

To make it worse, the cleaning lady was completely unaware of him. Hartmann was attractive and muscular, with sandy blonde hair and sharp eyes, and took it for granted that women would preen and flirt as they competed for his attention. The cleaning lady, however, never smiled nor brushed her hair behind her ear; her eyes slid over him as if he was any other uniform in a sea of soldiers. He had even bumped into her deliberately to see her reaction, but she had tersely apologized then skirted around him, never quite managing to raise her eyes to his face during the entire exchange. The other soldiers had snickered, and someone had said, “I guess you aren’t her type,” as Hartmann stared after her, his face hard.

That was two strikes against her.

In between missions, he kept an apartment off Base, and he liked to amuse himself by taking out a few of his buddies to pick up women at bars and clubs. The thrill of simply bedding them had vanished years ago, but he still got his kicks out of playing with them. He had developed a good eye for finding the ones that were attractive enough to be worthwhile, but still had the shadow of desperation that spoke of a willingness to do anything. That night, he imagined that he had the cleaning lady in his clutches, and pushed the woman to a level of filthy that he had never gone to before. Unsatisfied with how easy it had been to control and degrade her, he sent her away from his apartment with one of his friends, and from the way she giggled, he knew that she was up for another round of debauchery.

Alone, he knew the folly of his fantasy. The cleaning lady was the sort who spent her evenings curled up with a book and a glass of wine – she would never be under his power.

So he watched her. He watched her clean his Suit, watched her love what should have been his, all the while knowing that she was untouchable. The cleaning lady was ranked above him, the master sergeant.

And that was strike three.

She didn’t notice when he approached her, intent on wiping down the headrest inside the Suit with a soft cloth to remove all traces of Hartmann’s earlier presence. He didn’t know what he wanted to accomplish, exactly, but he laid his hand on her shoulder and startled her. When her head twisted around, their eyes met for the first time.

“Can I help you?” she asked, fidgeting uncomfortably as her knuckles turned white around the cloth. He stared, taking in the strands of brown hair stuck to the side of her face, and the awkward water spill that soaked the front of her thick, baggy t-shirt. It was a shame that she was oblivious to her appearance, he considered, because the curves of her neck and jawline weren’t half bad.

“You ever been inside?” he asked, nodding towards the Suit. Compulsively, his fingers found the crook of her neck, but she flushed and pulled away.

“Of course not. I’m not authorized,” she replied sharply, though her voice trembled. Hartmann was satisfied to know that she was afraid.

“You know who I am?” he asked, and he grabbed her arm to keep her pinned.

She had to swallow hard before she could hoarsely reply, “One of the pilots.”

“I’m the fucking pilot,” he hissed, pushing her back against the door frame of the Suit. “Master sergeant Hartmann. You’re just the fucking cleaning lady.”

She nodded and squeaked, “Okay.”

“You have no right to love the Suit – you’re a nobody.” He wondered why she didn’t scream. The back of his neck prickled as others in the bunker were beginning to take notice, but as long as they kept their distance he didn’t care. Something kept her paralyzed, even as he pulled the stuck strands of hair loose from her cheek. “You’re going to quit this job,” he said softly.

“No!” She jerked against him then, but he easily pushed her back.

“I better never fucking see you near the Suit again.” His voice was low and dangerous.

Yet somehow, she slipped through his grip like water, and was inside the Suit before he could stop her. For a split second he considered yanking her back out, but her eyes and expression no longer matched the woman he had spent weeks watching. The look she gave him triggered his battle instincts, and he reflexively drew back, narrowly avoiding being caught by the Suit doors as they closed. His heart stopped as he realized what had happened, then he shouted,

“The Suit’s been hijacked!”

Hartmann drew his sidearm, knowing full well how futile it would be if the cleaning lady decided to blow him to smithereens. He very carefully backed down the ramp for the Suit, then moved to stand with the other soldiers who gathered with their guns held ready. Captain Lambert appeared at his side and growled, “What the fuck is going on?”

“I was messing with the cleaning lady, sir,” Hartmann replied slowly. “She jumped inside, sir.”

“The fucking cleaning lady?” Captain Lambert was surprised. “I want her file! The rest of you, keep ready but don’t move.”

“Sir, there’s something wrong with that bitch,” Hartmann muttered, narrowing his eyes at the Suit. So far it had remained motionless, and it was impossible to tell what was happening inside.

“Shut up,” Lambert snapped, then snatched the manila folder that had been brought to him. He skimmed over it, slapped it against Hartmann for him to take, then moved forward as he cussed, “We’re in for a fucking shit storm over this.” He boldly climbed the ramp and pounded on the Suit as he shouted, “Carol Smith! Get out here this instant!”

Hartmann watched in disbelief as the doors opened and the cleaning lady practically spilled out onto Lambert’s chest. She was dazed and unsteady as the captain helped her down, as if she had been drugged. Lambert’s eyes met the master sergeant’s, and he said gruffly, “You. Come.”

He took them to a small meeting room with a table and chairs, and ensured that Carol was seated before stepping back and folding his arms. Hartmann remained standing.

“You wanna tell me what the hell happened?” Lambert demanded.

Hartmann shrugged. “Already did, sir.”

Lambert rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Carol, what’s your side of the story?”

Hartmann expected her to let loose and demonize him in every possible way, but instead she echoed his shrug and murmured, “I don’t know.”

“How could you not know?” Lambert couldn’t keep himself from raising his voice.

“Something came over me, I think.” Carol nervously began to pick at her fingernails.

Frustrated, Lambert slammed his hand down on the table, causing her to flinch. “I selected you for this job based on your psych eval, and in all this time there hasn’t been a single incident. You expect me to believe that ‘something came over’ you?”

“I was … overwhelmed.” She squirmed and stared down at her hands as she bit her bottom lip. “The master sergeant told me to quit my job.”

“So you decided to get yourself fired instead?” Lambert scowled as he looked over at Hartmann. “Look, I know that MSG Hartmann was probably being an unreasonable prick towards you, so you need to focus on protecting yourself, not him. Got that?”

“I honestly don’t know how I ended up in the Suit.” Carol’s mouth twisted downwards and her chin quivered. “I was really scared that he’d find a way to force me out of my job, and I love cleaning the Suit.” For a moment she choked on her words, and Lambert’s expression softened. “I don’t know what happened,” she finished weakly.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lambert murmured, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. “I have to file a report on the incident, and someone is going to take the blame. That was a breach in security, and it’s not going to blow over on its own.”

Hartmann looked between Carol and Lambert with his eyes narrowed, mulling over the possibility that the captain was attracted to the cleaning lady. It was no secret that Lambert had suffered a nasty divorce several years back, and as far as anyone knew it had completely destroyed his interest in anything outside of work. It occurred to Hartmann that his hadn’t been the only gaze focused on her as she cleaned.

Out of curiosity, he opened the personnel file he still carried. Carol had a long history of showing up on time and following all the rules; she was described with words like, ‘respectful,’ and, ‘content,’ all of which boiled down to a polite way of saying that she was easily controlled and had no big dreams in life. Hartmann looked back up at her, noting the way she hunched over and kept her elbows close, and he thought that she likely considered any clothing brighter than beige to be too flashy. Carol was someone who had perfected invisibility, so why had the captain noticed her as well?

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, sir.” Her voice was growing smaller.

Lambert sighed. “I’m going to recommend that your clearance be revoked, and that you’re reassigned. Wait here while I bring in your supervisor.” He then turned to Hartmann. “Your ass, on the other hand, is entirely at my mercy.”

“Go ahead and satisfy yourself, sir. I like it rough.” Hartmann smirked at the way Lambert’s eyes flashed angrily, then nodded at Carol as he tossed her file down onto the table. She was too shocked and pale to do anything other than stare.

“Move it, soldier!” Lambert barked, and pushed him out the door. “Consider yourself reprimanded for disrespecting your commanding officer.” He continued to shove Hartmann down the hallway. “Now, I want a detailed report on everything that happened, then you are to go home and await further orders. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Hartmann wasn’t thrilled at the idea of being removed from the Base, but the fact that Carol had jumped into the Suit on her own, combined with his status as the best pilot, made him expect that he wasn’t going to get more than a slap on the wrist for harassment in the end. The best part was, Carol was never going to be allowed anywhere near the Suit again. It was a small price to pay for the victory.

Lambert spoke into his radio, then informed Hartmann that someone would escort him off Base as soon as they were done, and a few minutes later they were in another small room. Hartmann wrote a glib statement, then signed his name with an exaggerated scrawl. Lambert’s radio crackled, and he stepped outside to answer it. Hartmann set his pen down then followed, but discovered that Lambert was already jogging down the hallway. He raised an eyebrow, but an MP approached him, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be privy to whatever had lit a fire under the captain’s butt.

He was going home to enjoy a little R&R before returning to duty.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 11c

Autumn

“You know, Carol,” the captain said more quietly, growing somber as he stared into his own glass. “I expected you to be a sobbing mess by tonight. I have to say, I’m proud of you.”

She shrugged. “I’m not that pathetic.” She paused, then added, “Okay, I was, but not anymore.”

Lambert chuckled. “You know, when I first saw you, commander, I thought to myself … that’s not a woman, that’s a mouse!”

Holmes and the captain laughed heartily, and Hartmann faked joining in. He had a death grip on his glass, and judged that Lambert was pretending to be more intoxicated than he was – an experienced alcoholic like him wouldn’t become so loose-tongued with only one drink.

“Oh shut up! I don’t like how mean you are towards me,” Carol snapped.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a mouse.” Lambert poured out another round of drinks, and pushed one towards Carol. “Lot of men around here find it to be attractive quality in a woman.”

Danger alarms started sounding in Hartmann’s head, but he remained quiet and distant. Don’t mention me, he willed towards Carol. Forget I exist.

Her face turned bright red, helped along by the tequila. “I-I don’t know about that,” she stammered.

“Now that we know you can perform in battle, we can ease up on the training some. Maybe get you off base for a personal day.” Lambert sipped from his glass. “Go on, commander, have some more.”

Carol took another drink, but still shuddered afterwards. “What would I do off base?” she asked. “I don’t have a personal life to spend time on.”

“Really?” Lambert glanced over at Hartmann. “Not even a boyfriend?”

“No … I-I …” Carol took a big gulp of her drink, but Lambert waited patiently for her to finish. Realizing that he wasn’t going to become distracted, she sighed, then said wistfully, “I guess I was lonely.”

He then said quietly, “I’ve been wondering about you, commander. What sort of woman gets yanked out of her life without a word of complaint? I expected to hear nothing but bitching for weeks, but you went along with everything we put you through.”

Hartmann hated the way that Lambert was looking at her, and the fact that the captain was out-maneuvering him while he had to hold his tongue.

“The Suit was my everything.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, as if she wanted to steady herself. “Cleaning it was all I cared about.”

“You lived for your job, huh?” Lambert was studying her carefully. “I think we can all relate.”

The atmosphere around them had become subdued, or perhaps that was because of the storm raging inside of Hartmann had drowned everything else out. That sense of invisibility was creeping over him again.

“No, I don’t think anyone can understand how I feel about the Suit …” Carol slurred, then hunched over slightly at cross her arms over her stomach. “I feel sick.”

Lambert’s jaw twitched, but he pointed with his thumb and said, “Bathroom’s over there.” They watched as Carol stood and staggered her way over to the door, then Lambert gave his orders to Holmes, “Go stand guard. Make sure you can hear her, but don’t let her know that you’re there. No one else uses that restroom as long as she’s inside.”

“Yes, sir!” Holmes saluted, though his eyes looked disappointed.

“Well, MSG Hartmann,” Lambert picked up his glass and held it out. “It’s a shame you picked a rotgut for our first bottle. I could’ve gotten more out of her if you had gone with something smoother.”

“It was corporal Holmes’s choice, sir,” Hartmann answered carefully. “I didn’t think about how it would affect her,” he lied.

“Hmm.” Lambert’s eyes narrowed. “A toast then, to our first success. You should feel proud of yourself – you oversaw most of her training.”

“Sir, I had nothing to do with what happened out on the mission, today,” Hartmann murmured, almost sullenly, but he raised his glass as well. “It was all that ‘help mode.’”

“It doesn’t bode well that she kept it a secret from us …” Lambert finished his drink. “I’ll take Carol and corporal Holmes back to the Base, and I’m granting you the rest of the night off.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hartmann replied, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm out of his voice.

“Report to my office at 0600 tomorrow.” Lambert checked his watch. “I’ll give her a few more minutes to finish, then retrieve her.”

“I’m sorry for not being more considerate, sir.” Hartmann suppressed his smug smile. He felt a tinge of guilt over deliberately supplying Carol with something that was going to make her vomit, but it had worked out favorably enough – provided she didn’t get chatty on the drive home. He wished that he could push the issue and try to drive Carol back in his own car, but didn’t dare do anything that would increase Lambert’s suspicions.

The captain closed his eyes, his face relaxing into the creased weariness of an extremely long day. “Thank the gods this part is over.”

“I know what you mean, sir.” Hartmann leaned forward to pour himself another drink, then scanned the room. “I might try to put the moves on that hot blonde over there,” he motioned vaguely. “If I don’t decide to go home and sleep, instead.”

Lambert followed the direction of Hartmann’s gesture, then scowled. “I recommend you catch up on sleep.”

They exchanged terse and somewhat awkward farewells, and Lambert headed for the bathroom. A minute later he emerged with Carol, supporting her against his side, and Hartmann angrily watched them cross through the bar and out the front door, with Holmes trailing dutifully behind.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 11a

Autumn

“What the fuck is ‘Help mode?’” Lambert growled as soon as the door to the small room was closed.

“It’s a function in the Suit reserved exclusively for the commander – me,” Carol replied coolly, the expression in her eyes different from her usual self. While Hartmann was present, he stared silently, trying to parse what he was witnessing.

“How did you know about it?” The captain crossed his arms, but otherwise softened his voice.

“I activated it by accident the very first time I was inside the Suit. After MSG Hartmann had taken it upon himself to harass me, sir.” Carol gave the him a deliberate look, but a weird feeling was coalescing in the center of Hartmann’s chest. She had shortened and slurred ‘master sergeant’ the same way that the soldiers did, instead of meticulously enunciating each syllable in her usual civilian way. Who was this woman sitting there?

“Why didn’t you report its existence before?” Lambert asked.

“Personal reasons,” she replied curtly.

“I could punish you for withholding pertinent information,” the captain said quietly.

She was unfazed. “Sir, I will accept whatever disciplinary measures that you decide are necessary, but after the success of my mission, I do not believe that separating me from the Suit is a valid course of action.”

“Anything you want to add?” Lambert glanced over at Hartmann, but he shook his head and murmured, “No, sir.” The captain studied Carol closely for a moment, then asked, “So, what does help mode do?”

She explained, her voice unwavering, “It removes emotional blockages and clears the mind’s ability to process and calculate. It also heightens reflexes and decision making.”

“How long do the effects last?” Lambert pulled out his notepad and began writing.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“We’ll keep an eye on you for the next while then.” Lambert then addressed Hartmann, ordering, “Close observation, and take notes of her behavior every …” he glanced down at his watch, “Ten minutes. I want every aspect of this recorded.”

“Yes, sir.” Hartmann echoed, oddly fearful that Carol would never return to her normal self.

“I need to go manage the surveillance and confirmation. Carol, write down every detail that happened while you were out on the mission, then sign it. MSG Hartmann will stay here observing you. Afterwards, you are free to go to the cafeteria to eat, but you must stay there until I come for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Carol and Hartmann said at the same time.

Carol began working on her statement, while Hartmann scribbled down his observations of her, careful to keep his personal thoughts private.

No hint of usual anxiety issues, including fidgeting, nail biting, and other quirks. He already ached to see her draw her teeth over her lower lip, oblivious to the sensuality of the action.

“I’d like to know your first name, MSG,” Carol’s voice broke through the sound of scribbling. “I’d like to know now, before I become too scared to ask again.”

“John.” He met her eyes. “Plain, boring, John.”

She smiled. “Thank you, John Hartmann.”

“Have you …” he said, then uncertain, attempted to begin again, “Are you …”

“I’m still me,” she replied. “More so than usual, actually.”

“Carol, I uh …” What was he trying to say? It was like his entire damn head had shut down, and he was left floundering for how he was supposed to interact with the woman in front of him. She looked like the same person that he had taken in his arms and pressed to his lips, but her behavior was not at all the same. “I congratulate you on your first successful mission,” he finished lamely.

“Is there any surveillance in this room? Hidden cameras, or anything like that?” she asked.

Hartmann shook his head. “No. Such measures would imply distrust. This room is used solely for debriefings, and any recordings are done with everyone’s knowledge.”

“In that case …” Carol stood, stepped over to where Hartmann was, and took his hand. “Thank you for being my friend. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but now …” Her eyelids fluttered and she leaned in for a kiss.

Hartmann hated how intoxicating Carol was for him. He couldn’t push her away, or tell her that he was a manipulative fraud. All he could do was feel and taste her, and hold himself back from pursuing even more of her. Why was he doubting himself despite moving closer to his goal? Was it the change in her demeanor that had him twisted up inside?

She blushed when she pulled away, and they both returned to their writing.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 10c

Autumn

“I’m here, I think,” Carol voice broke over the radio. “I’m starting to descend.”

“Stay focused. Remember, if it moves, blow it up. I don’t care if it’s a tank, a car, or a human, just do your job. Over.” Lambert barked into the radio, and Hartmann recognized the steely resolve on his face. The captain was going to do whatever it took to bully Carol through combat, and Hartmann hoped that it would work – for everyone’s sake.

“I’ve landed. Oh no, they’re all running out and they’ve got guns.” Her voice sounded petrified.

“Shoot them!” Lambert ordered forcefully.

Carol’s voice whimpered, “I can see their faces. They look so angry and scared. They’re shooting at me!”

“GODDAMN IT CAROL, TAKE THEM OUT NOW!” the captain bellowed.

“Help mode! Help mode!” her voice shrieked over the radio, followed by a computer voice replying, “Accessing help system.” Lambert turned to Hartmann with a puzzled look.

“What the fuck is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know, sir.” Hartmann stepped over to stare down at the radio, as if somehow he could see what was going on through it. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Carol, what’s going on? Over.” Lambert spoke urgently into the radio, but they didn’t receive a reply.

There was a full fifteen minutes of silence, and Hartmann realized that his brow was damp with sweat. It was unreal to be on this side of the mission, blind to what was happening miles and miles away. He was careful not to let his hands shake.

It was a relief when the radio finally crackled back to life. “Mission complete. Returning to Base. Over.”

It was Carol’s voice … but not. It was too confident, yet too robotic at the same time – not remotely like the timid squeak that they had grown accustomed to. Lambert and Hartmann stared at each other, lost for words, unsure of what had just happened.

“Get the satellite imaging, and send in the surveillance drones,” Lambert grunted. “Verify that the enemy base was destroyed.” He looked at Hartmann once again. “MSG Hartmann will be part of the debriefing.”

The room echoed with, “Yes, sir!” and the soldiers devoted themselves to their duties. The captain and master sergeant sat still and quiet, waiting for Carol and the Suit to return, mentally sorting through the questions they needed to ask.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 10b

Autumn

Once everyone was gathered in the bunker around the Suit, Lambert pulled out the flash drive and handed it to Carol. “Plug that in,” he grunted. “It will take you to where you need to go.”

“Then what?” she asked hoarsely.

“Then you make everything go boom.” Lambert’s expression was already defeated, and after he finished clipping the radio to Carol’s t-shirt, he stepped back to let Hartmann give his instructions. Hartmann wondered if the captain was already bracing himself for the disgrace of failure, his demotion looming nearer and nearer with the catastrophe that was certain to unfold. Fortunately, the master sergeant was much better practiced at hiding his thoughts, and with the demeanor of the perfect soldier, he said,

“There’s a port on the right side of the door inside the Suit. After you get settled, plug it in and say, ‘Access external drive.’”

Carol nodded and mouthed the words, “Thank you,” without realizing it. Her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that shot through his heart, and it occurred to him that she was falling in love. Not here, he silently projected towards her, then added, Not with me.

She trembled visibly as she climbed the new ramp to the cockpit of the Suit and sat down in the pilot’s seat, casting one last look at Hartmann before closing the doors. Lambert’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he remained silent as Carol’s voice crackled over the radio, “Access external drive.”

“Good,” Hartmann spoke into his end. “Now tell it to access autopilot program. I want you to read back the coordinates to verify that I programmed it correctly. Over”

Carol repeated, “Access autopilot program,” her voice gaining a bit of strength. The numbers she recited next were correct, so Hartmann told her to go ahead and run the program.

“When you get there,” he added, “You don’t have to worry about any civilians. If it moves, shoot it. Don’t take any direct hits from heavy artillery. Over. ”

“Got it!” The Suit roared to life, the giant doors to the outside were pulled open, and then Carol was gone; a shrinking black dot against a pale morning sky. But her voice over the radio was loud and clear, and she asked, “How long will the flight take?”

Instead of replying, Hartmann handed the radio over to the captain and stepped back. “Never you mind,” Lambert grunted into the receiver. “Just keep your eyes on the monitors, and they’ll tell you when you’re there. Keep communications to a minimum. Over.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

Hartmann feigned disinterest and boredom, glancing at his watch then setting his jaw. He pretended not to notice when Lambert approached him and said quietly, “Mas-sarg Hartmann.”

“Yessir?” he replied, his voice oozing with deference.

“Have you been following the rules and keeping a respectful distance from Carol?” the captain asked bluntly, but privately. There were others present, all keeping watch and bearing witness to the progression of the combat mission, and all pretending to look busier than they were. They both knew that this particular conversation would spread like a fire through the rumor mill, and neither wanted that to happen, so they kept their voices quiet.

“Yes. Sir.” A muscle in Hartmann’s finger twitched as he lied, so he closed his hand into a fist. “She’s not my type.”

Lambert wanted to say something more, but checked himself. “I want to see you in my office tomorrow,” he mumbled, then stepped away.

And everyone waited.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 7a

Autumn

“Book learning” saw Carol in a small classroom with her military entourage. Lambert was up front, using the projector in an attempt to teach her how to read maps, while Hartmann leaned against a desk close behind her. He noted that Holmes was in the back corner furtively glancing at his phone, and simultaneously felt annoyed at the lack of discipline with the younger soldiers, yet relieved at finding a weakness he could exploit.

After an hour, the captain gave in to the despair in Carol’s eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he grumbled for Hartmann to take over, then left the classroom. Unlike Lambert, Hartmann wasn’t under any pressure to turn Carol into a soldier, so he found her ineptitude comforting – the woman had such a hard time grasping basic geography, it made sense that she only traveled by bus; if it was up to her to navigate, she’d never make it anywhere. By the end of the week, he was certain, Lambert would report that Carol was impossible to work with, and Hartmann would be back in the Suit for the mission.

“Let’s switch over to something easy,” he said, not moving from his spot. “The NATO phonetic alphabet.”

“What is that?” Carol asked, turning around to look at him.

“It’s for over the radio, to reduce potential confusion.” He grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen, and began scrawling down a series of words. “You memorize it, then use it instead of the ABCs.” A minute later, he handed the paper over to Carol, and she stared at it.

“Your handwriting it terrible,” she blurted, then turned red with embarrassment.

Hartmann grinned. “I’m a military guy, remember? It’s a miracle I even know how to write, given that my career revolves around point and kill.”

She smiled in return. “Maps and running too, apparently.”

“Words just get in the way. Why, if I picked up a book and started reading, I might get ideas in my head.” He sat down in a chair next to her and leaned towards her.

“Like what?” Carol asked, her eyes seeming huge as she looked at him.

“Like that I’m actually a person, and not a killing machine.” He jabbed his finger down onto the paper. “Alpha, bravo, charlie,” he said. “C’mon and repeat it.”

Carol repeated it, over and over, until it sounded like a sing-song. Then he moved her onto another group of letters to recite. After reaching “tango,” she randomly commented instead, “Sometimes I wonder if I’m actually a person, too.”

Hartmann paused, an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. “Why do you say that?” he asked, his voice rasping a little.

“You said that we have more in common that you realized at first,” Carol answered. He hated the sincerity in her words, and the way that she looked at him earnestly. “It occurred to me that was something that we shared.”

Hartmann unconsciously clenched his hand into a fist, but forced a smile as he replied, “You’ve been thinking about what I said?”

Carol blushed deeply and turned away to stare intently at the paper, muttering, “Sorry.”

He glanced back at Holmes, ensuring that the ever present corporal was distracted with his phone, and reached over to lightly touch her fingers. “Most people don’t see through me. I didn’t expect that you’d connect the joke with what I confessed earlier.”

“I didn’t mean to, I …” Carol stuttered, then bit her lip.

“Be careful, Carol,” he said quietly. “If you keep this up, I might not be able to keep myself from liking you.”

She was red clear to her ears, and pulled her hand away as she recited, “T-tango, uniform, victor. Tango, uniform, victor.”

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 6b

Autumn

“All right, commander, it’s time for that push up,” the captain said calmly, and Carol looked surprised.

“Just one?” she asked.

“Just one,” Lambert repeated. “If you can manage.”

Carol stretched out on the ground with her hands propping her up, but before she started, Lambert instructed, “Lower your ass and keep your legs straight. Don’t drop your head like that. Now your ass is too low.”

Once he was satisfied with her form, Carol lowered herself down to the ground, and her face turned bright red. Her arms wobbled as she struggled to push herself back up, then her arms gave out and she dropped down to her stomach, where she buried her face in her hands to hide.

Lambert squatted down beside her. “I know that you aren’t a soldier, Carol,” he said reassuringly. “But you still need to keep trying.”

“Why?” Carol looked up, her eyes rimmed red, and she made a noise that sounded like half of a sniffle. “The Suit doesn’t require much physical strength.”

“Because a strong body makes for a strong mind, and it’s still going to be your responsibility to make snap decisions in the heat of battle. You can’t be distracted because you didn’t sleep well, or because you skipped breakfast. Understand?” Lambert answered.

Carol nodded pathetically from her position on the ground.

“Besides,” the captain added, lowering himself all the way to sit, “it’s physically strenuous to be out on a mission for ten or more hours. The Suit helps, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still human.”

“… Yes, sir,” Carol murmured, and for a moment she stared at the captain. Lambert squeezed his hand into a fist and thoughtfully pushed against the ground, then rose and gently kicked the soles of her shoes.

“C’mon and try again. You can lower your knees if you have to, but I want that ass in perfect position.”

“Yes, sir!” Carol raised herself up once again, and with some difficulty managed to complete the modified push up, the stood with a beaming smile on her face.

The whole scene was sickeningly cute.

And there wasn’t anything that Hartmann could do.

He kept his face expressionless, folding his hands together to stand at ease though his muscles still remained rigid. His mind was racing, searching for any possible way he could redeem the situation, his eyes locked on both Carol and the captain.

Lambert cast a sideways glance at the master sergeant, scowled, then muttered, “Don’t be too proud of yourself, commander. Any man could do better.”

The corners of Carol’s mouth abruptly turned downwards, and she also looked over at Hartmann, no doubt thinking of the day before when he had shown off by clapping in between his push ups. “Yes, sir,” she answered monotonously.

Lambert looked down at his watch, and said, “Break for lunch, then we’ll start on your book learning. I’ll get corporal Holmes to escort you to the mess hall.”

“I’ll take her, sir,” Hartmann interjected. “The corporal can meet us there.”

Lambert’s scowl deepened. “Fine.” He spoke into the radio from his belt, then nodded to Hartmann. Without looking at Carol, he turned to walk towards the building. He stopped before entering the double doors, glanced back to ensure that Lambert had gone in the direction of his office instead, then grinned at Carol as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Good job,” he said.

She looked at him with earnest eyes and asked, “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. You pushed yourself out there, and you did much better today.” Hartmann opened the door and held it as Carol walked through.

“The captain was right though,” she mumbled, then bit her lip.

“Everyone starts somewhere.” Hartmann shrugged. “Don’t take the things he says too personally. He’s your commanding officer, and it’s his job to keep you motivated to produce results. He’s going to be a jerk to you no matter what.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Carol answered slowly.

“Welcome to the military.” Hartmann stopped just inside the mess hall and gestured towards one of the tables. “May I join you, or are you going to chase me off again?”

“No, it’s fine.” Carol’s cheeks turned pink as she became flustered. “Where’s Holmes?”

Hartmann quickly scanned the large room. “He’s not here yet.”

Carol hesitated, looked around as well, then blurted, “What gives? Why are you being nice to me after calling me a bitch and telling me to quit my job?”

He had known that he would have to face that question sooner or later, but he hadn’t yet come up with a perfect answer that would erase any doubts in Carol’s mind. Hartmann frowned, knowing that if he dodged the question or failed to give a satisfactory reply, it would permanently harm his chances with her. When his mind was still blank after several seconds, he replied truthfully, “I was jealous of you.”

Carol was taken back. “Why?”

“You know the Suit better than I do.” Hartmann’s eyes found Holmes on the other side of the mess hall, so he added quickly, “I still am, too.”

“So why are you being nice?” She repeated.

“Because … we have more in common than I realized.” He strode forward to meet the corporal, aware of Carol’s gaze fixed on him. Good, he thought. It was about time that she had begun to notice him in return.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 6a

Autumn

Lambert was a lot more strict with Carol’s physical training than Hartmann had been. She was still fatigued from the previous day’s exercise, and moved with the stiff sluggishness of sore muscles, but the captain was determined to not ease up on her. Hartmann remained silent as Lambert informed Carol that he wanted her to jog for the entire mile, then took up his position in the rear with the other two side by side in front of him.

While Lambert hadn’t directly ordered him to tag along, he hadn’t dismissed him, either. Hartmann wasn’t going to leave Carol alone with the captain when he had a choice in the matter, feeling oddly fearful that the other man would have no trouble in snatching her away.

Hartmann had never been in an actual relationship before. While he carried himself with all the bravado of a stud, he didn’t know if he had what it took to entice a woman to stay with him for longer than a night. He was empty – yet Carol’s blandness echoed that emptiness back to him, and made his heart ache for someone to share it with. Especially with how unapologetic and open she was about her nature.

Lambert was a real person, and could easily win against a life-sized action figure.

When they finished the first lap, he overheard Lambert murmur, “Good. Keep going.” He watched as Carol looked up at the captain and smiled. He traced back through his memories to figure out if she had smiled at him the day before.

He wanted to insert himself, to steal the moment away from the captain, but he had nothing to say.

Then Carol’s strength gave out. She halted and bent over, pressing her hand into her side as she gasped for breath.

Lambert faced her and gently urged, “Just one more lap.”

She shook her head and protested, “I’m going to throw up.”

“All right then, we’ll walk. But you are going to finish the full mile, Carol.”

“I can’t!” she snapped angrily.

Hartmann felt a lump form in his throat, from both shock and amazement. He hadn’t expected her to bite like that, especially at her commanding officer. She was too mousy, too obedient, to behave like that. Lambert, on the other hand, didn’t seem surprised at all.

He barked, “Get your lazy ass moving, commander!”

His words cut through to her, and she yelped, “Yes sir!” and began jogging again, her face turning an even deeper shade of red.

Lambert took up his position in front of her, moving backwards so he could face her. “When you cross that finish line, you’re going to drop and give me a push up as punishment for talking back to your superior. When I tell you to finish the mile, you finish it on your hands and knees with vomit trailing down your chin if that’s what it takes, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

Hartmann couldn’t make any moves with Lambert watching. He remained in the background, observing but not participating, waiting patiently. Carol slowed down to an awkward gait, holding her side as she walked, her eyes fixed directly at her own feet. She didn’t notice when she crossed the finish line or when the captain stopped, and she would have bumped into Lambert if Hartmann hadn’t quickly reached out to catch hold of her arm. He let go quickly, and avoided Lambert’s narrowed eyes.

Stories, The Scions

The Scions – 5b

Autumn

They watched as Carol overshot again, and Hartmann instructed her to repeat the exercise. There was an air of resignation hanging over the three men as they settled into watching Carol running back and forth in the Suit, each time missing the mark. The corporal seemed more agitated by the repetition than his superiors, and it reminded Hartmann of his early years of service when he had still been developing his mental discipline.

“You in for the long haul, corporal?” Hartmann grunted.

“No, sir. I’ll be returning to civilian life as soon as my service is up,” Holmes replied stiffly.

“Got a girlfriend?”

“Yessir.”

“Is she faithful?”

“Yessir, she is.” Holmes grinned widely. “We’re getting married after she graduates from college.”

Hartmann nodded. “You’re one of the lucky ones then.” A small part of him hoped that Holmes wouldn’t receive any last minute “Dear Johns”, as he had seen happen so many times before during his years in the military.

Lambert’s growl cut through their conversation as he spoke into the radio, “Again, Carol. You’re not any closer to the mark than you were the first time. Over.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t quite tell where the mark is until I’m practically on top of it,” she answered. “Um, over.”

“You use your eyes to look,” Lambert snapped.

Hartmann smiled inwardly at the captain’s growing irritation, and commented, “She’s not going to be ready for combat at this rate,” knowing that it was an unhelpful thing to say.

“Shut it, MSG Hartmann. You’re here to help train Carol, not to narrate the situation.” Lambert rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, sir.” Hartmann held out his hand. “In that case, please allow me to assist in training her, sir.” Lambert slapped the radio into his palm, and he spoke into it smoothly, “MSG Hartmann here. If you can’t see the mark on the ground, then use other landmarks that you know are near it. For example, CPT Lambert and I are in the jeep parked near the line, so the closer you get to us, the closer you get to the mile marker. Over.”

There was silence for a moment, then Carol answered defensively, “I’m not stupid.”

“I know,” Hartmann replied, looking directly at Lambert as he added, “Over.”

“I’m just … overwhelmed … over.” Carol’s voice sounded exhausted.

“We’re all feeling overwhelmed at the moment, but we’ll get through it. At the very least, your connection with the Suit is astounding – too bad you can’t see yourself from the outside. Over.”

“What the fuck are you up to?” Lambert growled, and his frowned deepened as Carol’s voice answered,

“Thank you, master sergeant. Over.”

“Sir, you ordered me to be nice,” Hartmann answered dismissively. “I thought she needed encouragement.”

“Carol is officially a military asset now, MSG Hartmann. You stick to your bar sluts, and don’t get any ideas into your head. She’s off limits.” Lambert continued to scowl.

Hartmann narrowed his eye and shook his head slightly. “Yes, sir,” he replied, emphasizing each word separately. “I was simply following your orders.” He forced a scowl as he added, “Though if I may say, sir, she is not anywhere near as young or sexy as the women that I am accustomed to.”

Lambert grunted. “Good.”

Hartmann wondered if, given the opportunity, the captain would keep to the “off limits” rule himself, or if he was secretly envisioning coming home to the cleaning lady cooking dinner and a couple of kids playing in the yard. The war couldn’t last forever, and one day the military would have to surrender to the fact that Carol was a human being.

Why was Lambert also drawn to her? Why was she like a drop of water in their parched existence? There was a long list of things that she wasn’t, and at the end of it came the feeling of relief.

Carol wasn’t fake.