Interlude: Network- ( S:) Service Drive- Communications Archive- Date 27 Sept 2121

“He’s in the vehicle wash pit?” Mr. Gordon asked as he walked into the open vehicle bay lay open.

Along the forty-foot-tall walls, tactical vehicles were being stored, stacked one on top of another. The organization and detail in which everything was placed often caused newcomers to stop and marvel, but Gordon had seen it all before, organized it himself. Currently, for the staff, Gordon was the most eye-catching thing around.

As they moved, their footfalls echoed hollowly, first the heavy boot falls of the soldiers, then the lighter, tap, tap, tap of the expensive loafers Gordon always wore. Hurrying along the medical providers and scientists they escorted remained masked and gowned, their covered soles only making a soft scuffing on the white floor as they walked.

“Sir, he’s too dangerous to keep is an interrogation room, and we don’t have cells,” a young Sergeant responded.

“So, you locked him in the back of an 'Up Armored' Boxer and submerged it in the wash pit?” Colonel Garshack asked with a lift a full brow.

“He has internal air reserves, and we can bring him out three times a day for supervised meals,” the Sergeant supplied.

“And what if he has to take a piss?” The Colonel asked, his mouth sent in an annoyed scowl.

“We gave him a bottle, just like we use on long patrols. Water, facilities, and air. He has everything he needs down there.”

“That seems a little extreme, don’t you think, Sergeant?” Gordon asked, but his voice seemed more amused than admonishing. A smile touched his lips as he looked around at the Vision Dynamics medical personnel, but none of them even glanced at him.

The lab boys from Vis-Dyn always made him irritated. The soldiers, the mercenaries they didn’t bother him, but these stoic, silent lab personnel seemed like fakes. He had no doubt that in their off time they were sitting in karaoke bars or feeling up teen girls on busses.

The Army guys, however, he always found amusing.

“Beto seriously injured three men when we found him. He also killed a private who was stupid enough turned his back on the man. Beto is a killer, Sir. Not just a soldier, I mean a stone-cold homicidal maniac,” the Sergeant countered.

Mr. Gordon sighed heavily, laughing a little and motioned toward the pit. “Hardly a maniac, but a stone-cold killer, to be sure. Bring him up.”

Somewhere a motor kicked on and the steady hum-whirr of the wrench soon followed. The Boxer was a massive wedge-shaped cargo truck, and when ‘Up Armored’ it could support an infantry squad in combat for up to forty-eight hours without resupply. The Coronel couldn’t say the man’s ingenuity impressed him, but he put make a note to put the man in for his Staff Sergeant rocker.

“Is his physical condition going to matter for the experiment?” Garshack asked, his eyes falling on the lead physician, a small man, with dark eyes and short, straight black hair.

The physician turned his head and glanced back at the smallest figure amongst them. It was clearly a woman, but one who never lifted her eyes, or expressed any emotion at tall. At the physician’s glance, the girl shook her head, but it was a move that was nearly obscured by her short brown hair.

“As long as he isn’t dead or crippled it shouldn’t matter,” the physician commented, his western Asian accent clear.

The boxer’s nose peaked through the water like an alligator surfacing from the depths. Behind it a steel cover slid forward, covering the wash pit. The water from the vehicle flowed freely off and onto the floor where it was channeled back to the pit.

Once most of the water stopped flowing off the Boxer, the Sergeant order the back ramp lowered, as they all approached. “We chained him to the ramp. The first time we chained him to the bench but going in and getting him proved a challenge.”

Beto’s hands came into view first, the thick fists balled loosely above the cuffs, then his head and thick body. “Well, he looks like shit,” Haskins chuckled, and walked over closer as Beto rolled toward the bottom of the ramp.

“Doesn’t smell too good either. How many days has he been in there?” Garshack said and looked at the Sergeant for answers.

“We found him during a standard desert patrol two nights ago. He was still upright and moving but seemed mostly out of it. During the first few moments, we provided fluids and injected him with some medi-biotics.

The medic who gave it to him was his first victim. Beto broke his arm in two places and was pummeling him when the team leader stepped in,” the Sergeant reported.

“Is that how the team leader got a broken jaw and blow out ocular orbit?” Mr. Gordon asked his voice the cool rumble of a glacier over stone.

“Yes. After that, they hit him with about four stun blasts. They restrained him but ended up stunning him three more times on the ride home,” the sergeant paused and raised both his hand in a cautioning motion as they neared.

“His legs are out in front of him. Don’t get close enough for him to use them. That’s how the other guy got killed,” he said.

“Beto, it seems you have these young soldiers believing you’re the boogie man,” Gordon chuckled.

“There isn’t anything to be afraid of. Death’s just a corridor to a better place,” Beto’s voice crawled over them, and even Mr. Gordon stiffened a bit.

“It’s interesting that you say that,” Gordon motioned to the physician.

“You believe your miniature terrors can control this monster?” The Colonel asked, as if Beto wasn’t even there.

“That is what we are here to find out, isn’t it?” Gordon said with a glance, sent the soldiers forward with their restraints.

As they neared, Beto’s legs pivoted in the air and Beto got his arms and body over the restraints. “You want me, you’re gonna have to earn it,” Beto said flatly and brought his legs up into a ready position like any Ju -Jitsu master would automatically take.

Four soldiers rushed him, the first two meeting with piston like kicks that sent them flying back. The next slide into Beto’s guard, his body both occupying Beto’s legs, and getting trapped between them. “Hurry, he’s crushing me!”

The guard screamed, but Beto leaned forward, his block like head slamming down into the long nose of the guard, flattening it and sending a spray of blood over Beto’s face.

Another pair of soldiers rushed forward, but as the man trapped in Beto’s guard collapsed, Beto unlocked his legs and fired off two more successful kicks.

“Jesus, you people are bad at this,” Beto teased.

One soldier recovered himself from the ground and pulled the man out of Beto’s guard and glared. “Fuck you, you scum bag Outsider!”

“What, did I get you a little spun up? I guess that’s just part of being a CO you weren’t prepared for,” Beto re-set his legs and waited, a smile on his face.

“You’re right, Beto, they aren’t good Correctional Officers, they are soldiers,” Garshack said calmly, then lifted a small stun gun and fired it, the probes nailing Beto was 220 volts curled him up like a swaddling baby.

“He shouldn’t be a problem for your, so-called soldiers, for the moment,” Garshack said and slid a finger under his nose, flattening his moustache.

The room stared at Garshack a moment, unsure of where the weapon came from, or how he got it past security. The room had been locked down tight, and yet the old warhorse had his toys.

“Well, men? You really want to give Beto more time to recover?” He asked, and the soldiers raced in and pinned Beto down.

“Hit him with 20 million, then close up the Boxer and put him back in. Let the nanites do their work for a bit,” Gordon said but was already looking unimpressed.

As the scientists moved forward, a small disturbance from the entry drew the Colonel’s attention. A Communication Specialist was loudly trying to convince the guards to let him in, the guards however were hearing none of it.

“What the hell is that about?” Garshack yelled, and everyone stiffened, even Gordon, who never normally reacted to anything.

“Sir,” The Specialist tried once more to push past the guard and once more as rebuffed. “Sir, I believe this is important.”

“Well, what is it?” Gordon replied with annoyance in his voice.

“We had a signal from the desert, it was brief, but it shows the nanites could still be active in the dead,” he reported.

“What, do we have Zombies shambling through the desert?” Colonel Garshack growled.

“No, but I think someone was messing with one. We have a single frame of an image, but I thought you should see it,” the guards let him through as he held up a single photograph.

Once he was close enough, Garshack snatched the photo from his hand and looked down on it with a frown.

“Now, here is another familiar face.” Garshack growled and held up the image of a girl with half her raven black hair shaved, soft green eyes wide with terror, a face that was burned into the Colonel’s head.

“How the hell did that cripple -” Garshack mused before being cut off as Gordon's voice boomed. “That woman was crippled by us! She is also a first-class engineer who is dissecting one of our Mercenaries, that seems to have a nanite upload! You told me no one survived that attack,” he said loud but firm.

From the opening of the Boxer, a deep throaty laugh rolled, causing everyone to stop as Beto mocked them. “Looks like your new Toys aren’t all that impressive after all. Not if they can be taken down by a dehydrated, crippled woman,” he laughed.

“Laugh all you want Beto, we will see who is laughing tomorrow morning,” the Sergeant screamed and motioned for the scientists to back off.

“They’ve loaded a massive dose of nanites into you, Beto. They will spend all night learning your neuro-pathways and dominating them. By tomorrow morning you won’t be able to move unless we tell you to, by tomorrow night, the only voice in your head will be the AI who will ride you like the beast of burden you are,” Gordon said with a dispassionate tone in his voice.

The Colonel turned away as the rear ramp started to close on the Boxer, and in the pit slid open as the water started to re-fill.

“Send out a team to find that woman and dispatch her. Once the deed is done, I want her head brought to me as proof the job is complete. For some reason, men seem to forget their place around her,” Garshack said with venom..

“I’m growing tired these failures,” Gordon said casually. “Either show me this project is worth the money I’ve wasted, or I’ll reset you both, and let the AI's resolve this situation."