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Hey people. I rewrote several parts in this chapter, so, yeah.
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Chapter One
April 23, 2035. Head Quarters of US Military. Threat level: high.
The United States Military HQ. A new base built upon the ruins of Washington D.C., which was bombed during the beginning of World War III, the war spawned by Karma Atcha. The large, two-story, asterisk shaped building covered only a fraction of the area that the recently obsolete Washington D.C. used to cover. The rest was field, forest, and swamp, all used for military purposes. New technology produced in 2029 allowed the base to have a force field, preventing any unauthorized person or vehicles to enter the premises. All military personnel were provided with passes that allowed them to pass unhindered. Every registered vehicle was implanted with a chip that also allowed them to pass. This was the most effective method used so far.
Each wing of the building had a different use, and each was named for the cardinal point it rested on, with no west or east wing. The North wing held the offices for the officers rank Brigadier General and below. North-East held the single enlisted barracks. South-East held the enlisted family housing. South held the offices for officers rank Major General and above. South-West was officer housing for both single and family. North-East held the medical ward, guest housing, library, cafeteria, gym, and a shopette. Lastly, the General of the Military had his office in the middle of the building, on the first floor, while his housing was on the second floor.
Every officer’s in charge of a single division, with at least one sergeant under their command. However, the Captain of the Undercover Investigations Sector had his sergeant perish in a routine training exercise. So a young sergeant trained in Undercover Investigation transferred over from Fort Leavenworth.
Falcon Elridge, a seventeen-year old sergeant who joined the military at age fifteen and gained rank surprisingly quickly, walked briskly through the North-East wing of Headquarters, rucksack over one shoulder. Her long, blonde hair, which was braided as the now less-strict protocols demanded, swung with her every step. She was in her Undercover Investigations uniform, which consisted of black cargo pants, a grey tank top, and a long black coat, covered in pockets with a loose hood that could cover her face. Black gloves hid her hands, which she stuffed into her pockets self consciously as people stared. They covered her Mechanical Prosthetic right arm. Her boots squeaked every once in a while on the floor as she silently counted each door number. When she reached room 203, she stopped, dug a key out of her pocket, and unlocked the door. Turning the knob and entering, her gray eyes observed the standard room.
It was small, a perfect square, about 12’ by 12’ with a large window along the wall. Underneath the window was a metal twin bed frame, with a skinny mattress, white sheets, and a green, scratchy wool blanket. At the head of the bed was a nightstand with a digital alarm clock and a table lamp. Along the left wall was a wide metal locker with two drawers underneath the door. A metal desk was nestled in a corner, a folding chair pushed in, and a small writing lamp. All in all, it needed improvement.
Placing her bag on the floor next to the locker, she sat down on the bed and winced as the springs groaned in protest. She definitely had to get this replaced. She sighed and looked at the curtain-less window. At least it had blinds
Someone knocked at the door and she jumped, startled. Telling herself not to be silly, she called, “Come in.” The door opened, revealing a tall, dark-haired man in his dress uniform. She snapped to attention as she saw the man was an officer.
The man waved his hand and said, “As you were.”
Falcon relaxed from the stance she was in. She quickly studied the man. He had dark hair, black and glossy, as if it was slick with rain. It was cut slightly longer than what would normally be allowed, if the guidelines had not been relaxed. His face was angular, with handsome features. His skin was naturally pale, but did not make him look sickly. He was about 6’4” which gave him the appearance he was looking down on the world, and made the 5’6” that she was feel extremely short. But what caught her attention were his eyes. Frosted blue, they seemed to be seeing the world in a different way. They made her feel inferior, and yet they left her in awe.
The man’s face held a small smile as he said, “I am Captain Dalin Malstron, in charge of the undercover investigations sector. Give name, age, and rank.” He waited her answer patiently.
“Sergeant Falcon Elridge, seventeen,” she replied
Dalin smirked as he said, “Ah, the prodigy sergeant of legend is now under my wing. So, what’s the secret? I had to wait until I was sixteen to join the military.”
Falcon sighed. Every base she had ever been to wanted to hear the story. “After I left my Mechanical Prosthetic Engineers’ house, I wandered about the country. On my fourteenth birthday, a general came to the town I was staying in. While he was walking through the street, a sniper was sighting him. I stopped the sniper with a right hook. It knocked him out cold. The General was so thankful; he asked me what I wanted as a reward. I told him that I wished to join the military, and he tweaked the rules. I was allowed to join as enlisted after I graduated high school.”
Dalins’ smirk disappeared from his face at the word ‘Mechanical Prosthetic.’ “How young were you when you got the prosthetic?” he asked.
“About eleven, give or take a year,” she answered, somewhat caught off guard by the question.
Dalin looked thoughtful. “Hmm, I see.” His face returned to normal as he said, “Well, I have to go to a meeting. Don’t want to blemish my perfect attendance.” He turned and walked out the door.
Blinking, she muttered, “Egotistical b*****d,” and started to unpack her belongings. Taking out her tightly rolled up uniforms, she unrolled the dress one. The blue pants were a little ruffled, and the lighter blue long-sleeved dress shirt wrinkled. The jacket was the same navy blue as the pants, and also slightly ruffled. Opening the locker, she found it wasn’t as rusted as she thought, and took out a hanger for it. Assembling and hanging it up, she got out her Multicam Uniform, the new standard uniform after the ACUs were replaced. These were not as wrinkled. Taking out another hanger, she hung this uniform up also, before getting out her underclothes and placing them in the bottom drawer, her PTs and brown shirts in the top one. She only had one thing left in her rucksack. Taking out a picture frame, the picture it displayed was that of a happy family.
The father had blonde hair, cut short in an obviously home done haircut. His eye color couldn’t bee seen, since his eyes were closed with his large, goofy grin, but Falcon knew they were blue. The woman was delicately boned, with black hair, pale skin, and grey eyes. Her smile was wise and controlled, yet loving. And the little girl had shoulder-length, blonde hair, and grey eyes. She obviously took after her father, who held her in a tight embrace while she beamed.
Falcon glanced at the photo and placed it on the night stand at the head of the bed. She moved from base to base so often she didn’t get much time to collect personal belongings. Most of what she owned was at her room back at Michael’s house. Looking at the alarm clock, the time was about 18:00, and her stomach announced it was time to eat. Sighing, she put her empty rucksack into her locker and walked out into the hallway, not bothering to lock the door. What was in there to steal, anyways?
Walking through the halls yet again, she made her way to the North-West wing, which held the cafeteria. Others were heading that way too. Two people, one a red haired woman of about 20, and a man of about 25 with brown hair, looked at her, and immediately approached.
The man took her left side and the woman her right. The woman spoke first, her green eyes full of curiosity. “So, are you new here? I’ve never seen you around.”
Falcon, who was slightly confused, answered, “Yeah, got here today.”
The man smiled, brown eyes reflecting the pleasantness in his voice. “I’m Sergeant Edward Stone, and this is Sergeant Kelli Evans.”
Falcon relaxed a bit with their open personalities. They seemed nice enough. “I’m Sergeant Falcon Elridge. Are you two going to the cafeteria too?”
Kelli nodded. “Yep. I’m gonna hit the salad bar, and that carnivore is going for the chicken.”
Edward grinned. “Hey, I don’t eat that much meat. I just prefer it over rabbit food.”
Kelli looked offended as she ran her hand through her short red hair. “It is not rabbit food. I can’t help it if I have a sudden craving for a salad. And they only have fried chicken, which is way too high in fat. I need to watch it if I want to match Frostys’ time in the marathon.”
“Who’s Frosty?” Falcon asked.
“Captain Malstron, a.k.a. Frosted Flakes,” Edward answered. “He rarely talks to anyone, and when he does, it’s always with that ‘I’m better than you’ smirk plastered on his face. And the glares he gives,” he shuddered. “Talk about an Artic Chill. You could get frostbite from them.”
“Oh,” Falcon replied. “The egotistical b*****d.” Kelli let out a surprised squeak and covered her mouth. “I’ve met him already. He’s my commanding officer.”
They made their way to the cafeteria. Kelli, as she said, went to the salad bar, and Edward got his chicken. Falcon instantly spotted steak, and struck. Walking up, she obtained one. They were always well done in military institutions. Taking her plate, she grabbed a salad for the side, and went to where Kelli and Edward were sitting. They scooted over on the bench, and Keli looked at her order.
Kelli sighed. “Hmm…I forgot that there was steak today. Oh well. You say the Frosty is your commanding officer. How did he act with you? There is only one person he acts normal around. Her name is Nightingale. No one knows what she does, but she always has info on the WG. Good info.”
Falcons’ head shot up. “What’s her last name?”
Edward shook his head. “No one knows. They just call her ‘Major’ Nightingale. Major being an honorary rank, her not having one and all. Why, do you know her?”
Falcon returned to eating. “No. The name just sounded familiar. How do they know each other?”
Kelli replied. “I don’t know. They’re defiantly not a couple; they don’t see each other enough, and their not related. So why do they get along?”
Edward laughed, “Because they’re the same. Prince and Princess of Ice. She doesn’t talk to anyone except Frosty and the General.”
Falcon cleared her plate, and decided she was up for a run. Standing, she said, “I’m going to the gym. You guys coming?”
They both shook their heads. It was Kelli who spoke, “We have paperwork to do for Brigadier General Hart. We’ll see you in the morning.”
Falcon placed her plate on the dirty dishes table and headed back to her room for her PTs. She felt like she could run a couple miles, but she laid on her bed, and before she could stop herself, she fell asleep.
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Falcon awoke with a start. A panicked glance at the alarm clock, however, calmed her racing heart. It was only 5:00. Sighing when she realized that she fell asleep in her uniform, she rolled out of the bed, which, like before, groaned at the slight movement.
Placing her still booted feet on the floor, she walked to her locker and took out her Multicam. They were the only clean uniform she had that she would wear without being forced into one. Grabbing a clean brown t-shirt and underclothes, she walked out into the hallway. On her way to the female showers, she was glad no one else was up and taking a shower yet. She hated when people stared at her Mechanical Prosthetic.
Entering the shower room, she chose the stall farthest from the entrance and placed her things on the bench. She pulled off her gloves; her right hand caught the light in a strange way. When she shrugged off her coat, the reason was exposed. Her right arm was missing, and was replaced with a metal one. Made of titanium, a metal 45% lighter than steel and about as strong, it put less stress on her body. However, it was extremely expensive, and it cost all her former college money, and then some. She expected this to last her at least four years, with minor adjustments.
She unbraided her long, blonde hair, which fell to her waist, and ran her flesh fingers through it, wincing as she came upon a knot. She undressed the rest of the way, and started the shower with the voice command, “Shower start. 102 degrees Fahrenheit.” Steam flowed out of the stall, and she climbed into the hot water, sighing in pleasure. This was her first hot shower in ages. All the other soldiers used up all the hot water before she could use any. Using the generic, regular shampoo, she worked it through her hair, scrubbing hard to get the oil out. Rinsing it, she then washed her body, then just stayed in the stream of hot water for ten more minutes, before ordering, “Shower off.” The water stopped, and she grabbed the towel that automatically dispensed. Drying off, she re-braided her hair, and dressed in her Multicam. Lacing up her boots and putting on the black work gloves, she stood and glanced at the digital clock. The time was 5:25, five minutes before her normal wakeup time. She heard the door open, and Kelli walked in.
“Well, we have another early bird. Edward wakes up early too,” Kelli grinned. “We didn’t get to bed ‘till 23 hundred, and he still wakes up at four thirty.” She was in her pajamas, which were red silk pants and a white tank top. Her feet were in white fleece slippers, and her hair was messy.
Falcon admitted, “I fell asleep as soon as I entered my room. I didn’t even change out of my uniform, so that’s why I’m wearing this one.” She gathered up her dirty things, which all had he personal barcode on them, and put them down the laundry shoot.
“But what’s with the gloves indoors?” Kelli asked without knowing how sensitive the subject was.
Falcon winced and jammed her right arm in her pocket. “It’s so people won’t see my hand,” she mumbled, looking away.
“Is it scarred?” Kelli pried, trying to get the elusive answer.
“I don’t like people staring at my Mechanical Prosthetic,” she muttered.
Kelli knew better than to pry after she heard those two words. “Oh, I see.” She said. “Well, breakfast just started, so if you go now, you should get enough to eat.”
Falcon smiled. “Thanks for the tip.” She was glad she wasn’t asked to show her arm. It embarrassed her. Leaving the showers, she made her way down to the cafeteria, not meeting anyone on the way down. When she entered, there was only a handful of people, but plenty of food. Piling a plate with eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast, and taking a glass of orange juice, she spotted Edward. Walking over to him, she set the plate down, sat, and said, “Good morning. Your mouth is a little lower”
Edward stopped trying to spoon the eggs into his nose and looked at her. “Huh?” He realized his face had eggs on it, and wiped them off with a napkin. “Oh. I’m still half asleep.”
“Yeah. I heard Brigadier General Hart kept you up until 23 hundred. That much paperwork?”
Edward groaned. “Yes. And lord knows how much you’ll have. Frosty never does his until last minute, and he’ll make you read it, then summarize everything.”
Falcon sighed. “Guess I’ll just have to get an early start.”
“Bring black coffee. He can’t function in the morning without coffee, and if you provide it, you’ll get on his good side. He doesn’t get into the office ‘till 6.”
Smiling, she thanked him, and then ate, shoveling the food into her mouth. The eggs were a little runny, but they were edible. The toast was burnt, and the bacon crispy, but it was early. The cooks were probably still waking up. Gulping down the orange juice, she stood, and said goodbye to Edward, who was now getting toast crumbs on his chin. It was 5:45, so she hurried and got hot, black coffee, and then exited the cafeteria.
Walking down the hallway, she made her way to Captain Malstrons’ office, dreading the mass of paperwork. She entered the office some five minutes later and was surprised to see the desk clear. There was also a couch, a table, and a large window looking out onto the courtyard. Several people were doing PT.
She waited the ten minutes for Dalin to show up, which he did, just on time. His dress uniform was spotless as it was the day before, and his face clean-shaven. However, he looked half-asleep, and his hair was messy. He automatically grabbed the coffee with a mumbled, “Thanks.” He took a sip, and appeared to immediately wake up. “Good, you’re early.” He opened his briefcase, and handed her a pile of papers. “These are yours. I expect them done by the end of the day.”
Falcon took her assigned papers, and went to sit at the table. Grabbing her pen, she started to read the first one. It was about the energy budget for sergeants. If three-fourths of the sergeants signed it, it would be raised with a slight pay dock. Falcon didn’t sign it. She needed all of her paycheck to pay Michael.
Three hours later, she finished signing her papers. She was glad she was still right handed. Many Mech patients switched hands if their dominant one was replaced. If she had done that, her wrist would’ve felt like spaghetti. Looking over to Dalin, she saw he hadn’t even started on his pile.
He looked up. “Finished already? Yes? Go do what you want. That was all you needed to do today.” He waved his hand, and went back to doing whatever it was he had been on his computer.
Falcon sighed. It seemed that she would have to revert to drastic measures to actually get him to do his paperwork. “Yes sir,” she replied, and left. Because it was only 9 she decided to go over the training course. Walking out of the HQ building and putting on her PC, she entered the courtyard where the training course was located. There was a soldier already there, just staring at the course. That light ash-brown hair seemed familiar, as did his profile…
“Will!” she called, waving. The man looked at her, surprised, before falling into a dead faint. She sighed as she watched him crumple onto the ground. When she had been at Ft. Leavenworth, she met Will. He was a civilian then, but they quickly grew into friends. Will developed a crush on her, and confessed to her. She admitted she didn’t feel that way about him, and he was so crushed and embarrassed, he left. This was the first time she’d seen him after that.
Well, looks like I’m going to have to take him to the clinic. Walking over to him, she knelt down next to him. He probably wasn’t too heavy. He was only 5’9” after all. Maneuvering him up onto her shoulders in the fireman’s carry, she stood, staggering a bit under the increased weight. He defiantly weighed more than her.
Walking back into the building, she wondered why she didn’t pass anyone, and then remembered it was still working hours. Walking all the way through the North corridor and into the North-East, she spotted the clinic door. With a sigh of relief, she used her left hand to open the door, as her right was currently holding Will. The brown-haired doctor was lounging in his computer chair, reading the newspaper. His amber-brown eyes looked up when she entered. “Hmm. A fainter. Put him on a bed,” he said as he motioned to one of the plastic-covered beds.
Laying him down, she explained what happened. The doctor leaned back, and said bluntly, “So basically, it was your fault.” He grinned and held out his hand. “Doctor Alexander Coultin.”
Falcon took his hand. “Sergeant Falcon Elridge.” Dr. Coultin looked slightly puzzled when he first touched Falcons hand, then it smoothed as he realized why it wasn’t flesh.
“You are the only person with a Mechanical Prosthetic on this base,” he informed, smiling. “People like curiosities. Along with the fact you’re pretty good looking, you’re going to have a lot of people hitting on you.”
Falcon narrowed her eyes. “Are you hitting on me?” she inquired.
Dr. Coultin snorted. “As if. Sorry, but you’re not my type.” His straight face returned. “If you ever experience any back problems, come get me. Mech can put a lot of strain on someone.”
She smiled, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve had this for a while, so I’m used to it.” Glancing at Will, she said, “I’ll leave him to you. I have to see how far Captain Malstron got on his paperwork.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine,” Dr. Coultin said, motioning to Will.
Falcon coughed. “Who said I was worried about him? I know he’ll be fine. He faints easily.” She left Dr. Coultin snickering, and for some reason felt she was the cause. Walking back to the North wing, she stood in front of the door to Malstron's office, gathering her will. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. “Do you want me to read and summarize the papers for you, sir?”
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So how'd you like it? Dr. Coultin is quite a character, huh? More of him later.
 love-sesshy · Mon Jan 21, 2008 @ 10:10am · 2 Comments |
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