13

Alex had been working late in sector 8a of his communication lab on level 6. He was busy with fine tuning the communication systems on the new AESDA (Ayz’Da) elite combat armor. The All-Environment-Special-Defense-Armor was recovered from MJ-12 labs after JC merged with Helios |. Though in its early development, the combat armor was beyond anything even the top engineers had seen. They spent years pouring over the schematics and billions trying to learn its secrets. The level of nanotechnology present surpassed into the alien. Area 51 files held the answers.

Numerous "Gray" neural-interfaces in the helmet tied the wearer to exoskeletal sensors that connected like natural nerves to muscular enhancement fibers, gyrostabilizers, and tactile sensors. For all purposes the suit was a second skin, a physical attribute enhancing skin with atmospheric control and waste purge, puncture, radiation, and biological resistance –only EMP posed a serious threat. Its visual system and HUD were linked to the external sensors providing full visual support and an assortment of electromagnetic bands through which the world could be seen. The one system not designed was the communication system and compliment network.

The communication hub on level 6 took a year and a half to redesign, but the AESDA communication halo prototypes functioned perfectly –in the lab. Programming the nano-assimilators to install and properly interface was the camel passing through the needle’s eye. Four prototypes had been sequentially burned, upgraded, and fried. Alex lost a week’s worth of sleep trying to find solutions, then out of frustration slapped JC’s old info-link into the connection slot. It worked like a charm. Alex spend the next five months designing an advanced system that would work inside and outside cyberspace, the very reason for his being spared the fate of his sleeping cohorts.

Building JC’s missing years was proving tougher than first thought. How do you give someone with the emotional range of a vibrator a well-rounded assortment of life experiences without throwing them into chaos? How does one reconcile the reality that you were grown in a test-tube, stuffed into an overgrown pressure-cooker, and hatched when your belly button popped like a turkey temperature probe? Life had to be rougher, but not so to the point that psychosis evolved.

The tough part was giving JC some sexual experience, some basis for his present interactions with the opposite sex. Really, JC was fully augmented to say the least. He was every bit as functional as one of his ex-girlfriends "Iron Dominic" sex dolls, but he was just as emotionally detached. JC, in spite of or despite everyone’s help, was making improvements. He had actually had a date, a totally disastrous one but a date all the same. The overall experiences were established, he then had to filter through 34 S&M, 23 bondage, 6 domination, 19 submission, and myriad of perversities that left a mental stain only years of therapy could cure to find the holy grail. He toyed with idea of inserting one particularly humorous shoe fetish experience. The thought of JC getting worked up around technician work boots was enough to throw him into a fit of laughter. Just the thought of J.C. hunkered down and panting heavily over a size eleven and a half in an unlocked maintenance closet made Alex almost soil himself.

He did some quick mental calculations… He estimated there were at least 2,000 pairs of technician boots around the immediate area. The thought of JC fighting the overriding urge to touch them, caress them, be one with them… Alex nearly laughed himself into seizures, but quickly realized something was wrong. The combat suit’s internal gyroscope was out of control sending him spinning wildly through the aerial combat construct. He zipped and slid through the maze of object, then slammed hard through the 12^th floor of DataTech Ltd. causing forced disconnection sending waves of nausea and disorientation as reality settled in and the pale glow and hum of emergency lights sent shivers down his spine.

14

Seed 612 finished its diagnostics, determined primary functions and power generators to be only partially functional. Its energy reserves had been drained keeping the directional shield up as long as it did. Emergency power-cells were all it had left giving it 6 hours to locate a power source and reactivate primary functions. Damage was limited to advanced sensor systems, but radiation sensors were on-line. Using its limited power, the pod programmed nanites to create a sensor tentacle capable of scanning the area for power lines. After what seemed like an eternity, the snaking tentacle found a live and exposed power line. It quickly adapted its power converters and like a mosquito dined slowly in the safety of darkness.

15

Alex unconsciously inventoried the room and grabbing the only weapon familiar to him, a sturdy wrench, began exploring. He completely forgot to take off the cyber-combat suit, which saved his butt when he should have electrocuted himself bypassing a malfunctioning security door. Leaving the classified sector, Alex accidentally activated the AESDA suit; independent air, power supply, communication system, radiation screening, hypo array, and neuromuscular enhancements came on-line one by one. The helmet-mounted light ran through several radiation bands and settled on UV scans. The heads-up-display functioned equally well in the real world. The targeting system was tied into the forearm mounted laser pistol and provided assistance to even the most unskilled like Alex. Its carbon-fiber armor skin registered at 100% integrity, Nanotech systems were fully functional, and the bioelectric capacitors charged to 1400 units. Disoriented, but well protected he made his way to the central stairwell.

Bots were strewn about like forgotten toys, their power systems interrupted by a tactical EMP burst, littering the level. Most of the base was shielded, but the corridors and general areas were highly vulnerable. Debris choked the open lobby that rose and descended beyond sight; dense smoke snaked round columns and danced wantonly –taunting the foolhardy. The aftermath of the all-consuming fire, the glowing embers and small chemical fires, had all but burned themselves out making the corridors extending from the central stairwell and elevator like hell incarnate. Worse still, there was no way to get through the debris to check the other lab areas.

Alex bound up the concrete steps taking them three at a time and ran smack into Tracer in haz-mat gear, in the fifth floor lobby, treating a tech whose suit had ripped. Tracer related the horrors of the explosions that swept through the base incinerating anything not in sealed chambers or in protective gear and his escape through the ventilation system. His test range was completely obliterated. Bad enough that the computer network shutdown without cause, but the power had to go when the meteor slammed through the base. His projections were that the upper public offices were a mess and that the entire upper west wings were in ruin. He thought it strange for a meteor impact to do such focused damage, almost as if a solid spike or orbital particle blast had struck.

Tracer recalibrated Alex’s visual array and told him about 3 augmentation canisters and some firmware upgrades in the nanotechnology labs on the fifth floor, but he forgot to grab his access card from his desk as he fled. Alex would have to get the card before he could to the upper levels. Alex made his way back down to the sixth floor lobby and found the vent Tracer used. After several wrong turns he emerged into absolute darkness and hit the ground with a thud. Radiation levels were intolerable and shorted out the advanced visual array features. The shoulder-mounted flashlight screamed to life pushing back the darkness. The offices were smashed beyond belief, glass could not be found in pieces larger than post-it notes. Chairs were knocked hither and yon, computer LCD screens melted; everywhere everything was in disarray. The few who had not been working in haz-mat suits lay broken, contorted in anguish on the floor, against walls, and in pieces. Alex ripped the helmet off long enough to vomit.