Interzeit: A Space Opera (11 page)

There was a woman in a grey suit waiting for him there. She wore a red
blouse,
her face was beautiful to surgical precision. Pleasing in an almost alien way, she smiled waiting for him to get situated across from her. They began moving, she uncrossed her legs.

“Hello Tomson,” she began, “I am Ophelia, I will be your training supervisor and liason,
it’s
a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Nol stands, and moves slightly closer to her
, outstretching
his hand. They shake hands awkwardly, and he sits down the arm length away from her.

“Please, just Nol.”
h
e says, “It’s the name I chose for myself.”

She nod
s her head, shrugging lightly, “Works for me Nol. Did you find the trip here pleasant?”

They continued exchanging pre-requisite platitudes and small talk, setting the stage for the real conversation, moving passed the basic barriers of the new unknowns of a person. Finally after almost too much comforting politeness Ophelia got into the real stuff.

“I want you to think of me as your advocate during this candidacy, someone to make sure
you’re
being treated fairly, that you understand what is expected of you, and are given everything you…require.”

Nol nods somewhat cautiously, “And what is expected of me?”

“Of
course…
please understand Nol, everything we speak of from here on out, should be considered classified, sharing this information with others is akin to sedition against
the
Earth.”

He nods again,

“
The cabinet has pooled together several top engineers from around the system to create prototype war mechs. Not only is the program designed to discover a suitable pilot, but to figure out the optimal mech platform for mass production.”

“Mass producti
on?”
Nol asks, “Isn’t that
…illegal?”

“Nothing is illegal when the cabinet approves of it, however it is a matter of utmost secrecy,
we
must avoid signaling to the factions and planetaries that a Mech army is something to create.”

“But you are making an army, right?”
he says

“Only potentially,” she back pedals, “We must have a platform, the materials, training protocols, and the production capacity in place should the worst happen. As you know, someone out there is already producing war mechs illegally.”

“
Yeah
,” He replies solemnly.

They talk about more trivial things next, leading into Nol’s own experiences with the disaster. This is emotionally charged, but after endless retellings in front of crowds, it has lost novelty to him. He relays the tragedy in an almost formulaic procedural process. It still seem to resonate heavily with Ophelia however, the story like a magic combination under her skin. Her eyes waver, although her alien beauty remains in total composure. After a period of silence,

“We should be arriving at the test base shortly,” She says, “The design team has decided to experiment with a revolutionary control system as a central
part of all the prototypes. This design uses a nervous interface to…well its hard for someone like me to explain it.
It’s
designed to network your mind into a larger artificial nervous network.”

“Sounds cutting edge,” Nol agrees.

“Yes, so the first morning will be neuro-compatibility testing, please expect some discomfort.”

Nol smirks, “A bit more discomfort is like a drop in the bucket at this point Ophelia.”

She smiles back silently.

They arrive at a large military compound. It has several layers of concrete walls like a
prison, which
they must checkpoint through to penetrate. After redundant gate inspections they pass through. The interior is a series of barracks and warehouses, uniformed defense force members patrol in a complicated network of simultaneously executed responsibilities.

Near the back a giant silo looms high over everthing. The diameter of this circular
behemoth was about half of a sports field. The van drove casually through the small base roads towards it.

“What is in there?” Nol asked,

“The world’s largest deep earth geo-thermal reactor.”
Ophelia said,

“Why are we headed there then?” He pushed,

She smiled mischievously, “Well…that’s not all that’s in there. It’s the largest alright, but…appearances can be deceiving.”

They are dropped off outside the structure. The van kicks up a small dust cloud as it speeds off to its next task. They wait patiently with Nol’s stuff. They aren’t alone for
long,
soon a man in a white uniform comes walking from around the Silo’s large curve.

“Greetings Tomson Nol.”
He shakes his hand aggressively, “Welcome to the reactor. Glad to have some one such as yourself here.”

“Sure thing,” Nol answers, “And you are?”

“I am EDF special projects general Kader Berkant
. I came to escort you to your quarters personally.”

“Thank you general,” Nol nods permissively,

“Indeed, we appreciate the hospitality.” Ophelia adds.

“Of course cabinet
liason
,” Kader answers, he points to the small cart of baggage, “This it?”

They both answer him, and he insists on dragging it himself. He leads them around proudly pulling the luggage one armed, as though it weighed nothing at all.

He led them into the
silo,
the interior was thick sheets of metal, rough angled riveted beams supporting it. The interior was hollow for the most part. The center
is
a barren hole, leading downwards into the darkness.

Kader led them to an elevator, and they quietly all rode it together. The elevator car flitted down and down facing the empty pit. The light in the interior was swallowed quickly and triumphantly by the large hollowness.

Finally they reached the bottom. The only thing filling the hole here was a large platform. So large that it could easily fit many fighter jets, or a few larger items.

“A launching pad?”
Nol asked casually.

Kader’s thin lips curled to the corners of his face, eyes filled with mischief. The main hangar was a large hollow cavern, reinfo
rced with composite buttresses. They
surround the rocks like a robotic tendril, caging it against collapse.

There were a rough dozen large bays shuttered by metallic doors spray painted with sequential numbers. Nol walked through them with
naïve wonderment, nostalgia almost, funny. They moved through the
veritable temple of monoliths.

“I wish we could welcome you in a warmer sense,” Kader began speaking as they were well deep in the chamber.

“You’ve simply arrived late due to your rehabilitation. A frustrating, but necessary delay,” He stops suddenly, turning and facing Nol.

“We must begin your calibration early tomorrow you understand? We need to vet you immediately. The Cabinet made special note to not let you fall behind the program schedule.”

“Great, that’s very considerate of them.” Nol answered.

“They favor you,” He says, “It was not told to me w
hy, but perhaps we shall learn
?”

“We will,” Nol agreed.

The hangar chamber eventually split into several exits at the far end, each leading off in a different winding direction. Kader and Ophelia led him through the one such channel, to a small room, his new room.

It was small, closed in,
but well furbished. They throw
his bags in a corner together.

“I must take my leave now,” Ophelia nodded
softly,
“I will try to see you within the week for an update.”

“Sure,” Nol answered,

Ophelia then hugged him in an unanticipated show of affection. He accepted it, the feeling shattering through him with immense emotional strength. It was a gut punch back into his emotional reality, seeping through the buffer of recent events. She left without further word
.

“Get some rest,” Kader said stoicly, he left with no more discussion. Nol unpacked his minor possessions. He tried connecting his ionics, but found the net was not in reception here. Such measures would obviously be necessary, not too mention the natural dead zone a place like this must be. He disliked being unlinked, but focused on the morning ahead.

Time lurched forward immediately, a momentum of some kind behind it, a thunderbolt powerful, fast, deadly.

He was in the first of many testing and training rooms. A large chair
is
surround
ed
by monitors,
and
enclosed by electrode pads.

“The new control module requires modifications made to the pilot’s nervous system in order to function correctly,” A faceless faced technician explained.

“Is this what we’re doing?”

“No,” he said tersely, “Before that we must test your body’s electrical resistance among other properties. An incompatible pilot candidate is a waste of our resources and time.”

“Very warm,” Nol sniped sitting down in the encapsulated chair.

“Sorry, we have to explain this to everyone,” He continued, “We cannot stop until this is finished, if you quit, it is immediate expulsion from the program.”

Several other silent technicians began applying the wireless electrodes to various nexus points along his back, neck and head.

“Are you ready?” One asked,

Nol breathed slowly, hyperventilating at the sudden immediacy of the test, “Let’s do it.” He answered finally,

The techs stepped away. A roof closes over his head, completing his absolute isolation inside the machine.

Several yellow lights flickered on, a high pitched electrical whining drones in the capsule. A low static tingling dances into the electrodes. His nerves are hit and cause a warm spasm to spread to the extremities of this body. This builds up higher and higher until he is shaking, his teeth chattering with the humming resonant current.

The amber lights begin switching to green, blue sparks shoot from the capsule into the electrodes. His whole body locks seizing. Suddenly a threshold is crossed
,
the most intense burning shoots through his entire body.

He jaw is locked against screaming, his breath tries to vibrate his vocal cords,
the
static in the air crackles them into
a
cramping lock as well.
This continues for an unknown amount of eternity. The pain wipes all such senses out of him. Pain, fear, and anger surge through the electron storm in his veins, dying as he knows he is dying.

His hatred grows, almost vengeful at himself. The lights shu
tter off, and the pain finally cea
s
es
. His whole body is sore, certain ends singed red. He
gasps for
air, eyes heavy with pain, and dry irriation.

An intercom flickers to life, “That was the first stage, very good.
We will begin the second stage in
15 seconds.”

Nol
considers leaving,
but his window of escape closes
before any of his rational faculties can be stabilized. It must be
irrational,
it must be emotion, his gut. He sees no
other
path forward
.

The system whirrs back on, as it ramps up he manages enough air to scream as it begins again. The electricity forces the action to endless completion, the air forces out emptying his lung, and his scream spills out slowly dying out into weak wheezy nothing.

He feels h
is heart race, and trip, smashing wildly in
his chest. His vision blurs and fractures, rolling him in and out of the underground chasm.

The whole day goes on like this, at a certain point he passes out, and wakes up in a recovery room. An apparatus attached to his heart.

“Your heart failed,” A doctor said, “We kept you from slipping
,” they sneeze suddenly,
“…slipping a
way but you have to wear this pulse stabilizer to continue.”

He nodded weakly.
T
hey immediately returned him to the testing pod.
He passively accepts the shocks through to the rest of the day. Several medical assistants help him towards his room at night. He limps trying poorly to make a joke.

General Berkant meets him at his room, in front of the door. His face had no illusions over what had taken place during the day. A
n
almost weary glaze shone over his dark eyes.

“Excellent work today Tomson,” He spoke in a measured tone, “You have tomorrow off for recovery, your tests have been deemed within acceptable ranges.” His voice slows and deepens rolling off the end.