Everything Changes
Carol had won the envy of the entire base by receiving the job of cleaning the Suit between uses. She would proudly enter the bunker with her soft cloths and polish, and tenderly buff away every scuff of dirt that marred the paint. Every single time, she held her breath with the anxiety that the Suit had been scratched, and she was relieved when her love revealed that it had magically held its integrity through every bombardment. No one knew where it had come from, but it had become the pride and joy of the military, and she was its sacred Keeper. She often joked that the Suit took up so much of her time and attention, she didn't have any affection left to share with another human being.
Master sergeant Hartmann was considered to be the best pilot, and dominated the missions that were deemed to be 'Suit worthy' as a growing celebrity amongst the soldiers, and he reveled in the adoration that surrounded him during his off hours. However, unbeknownst to any of the higher ups and only vaguely suspected by his underlings, the cumulative effect of piloting the Suit was beginning to degrade his psychological resilience, and he was growing resentful of anyone else who touched what he was increasingly beginning to consider his own. Every time he donned the Suit, he thought about defying commands and never returning to base, certain that no one would be able to stop him if he turned renegade. Only the uncertainty of running from the military with no objective to follow kept him obedient, and his ache was a dark secret.
Brooding, he hung around to watch Carol work on his beloved Suit, and his heart stung with jealousy when he saw how tenderly she touched the metal. When she opened it up to wipe down the leather interior, he couldn't stand it anymore; it was worse than walking in on a spouse in the thralls of another lover. He clapped his hand on her shoulder, roughly squeezed down, and growled, "You ever worn it?"
"No." Carol winced and looked away, not daring to try to free herself. Something in his eyes wasn't right, and she decided that it would be best to slip away as quick as she could before reporting him.
He lowered his mouth down next to her ear, and whispered with his lips brushing her skin, "Try it."
"I'm not authorized," she replied, tilting her head away. She scanned the bunker for anyone else to call out to, but it was lunchtime and the place was empty. Someone took her trustworthiness for granted, and only the surveillance cameras were there to keep Carol company as she worked. She felt a stab of betrayal at having been left alone.
"Do you mean to tell me that you can repeatedly strip the Suit bare, and not feel the impulse to climb inside? Go on and try it, I won't tattle." Hartmann's other hand seized her upper arm, his fingertips digging in deeply enough to leave bruises. He pushed her forward, banging her head against the interior, causing her vision to flash white.
"Here, I'll even tell you what to expect," he said, turning her around and holding her in position with his forearm, as he kicked her legs to get her to step inside. "Don't worry when you hear the words, 'User unknown: booting safe mode', because that's what it does that for everyone. Then it will squeeze tight for a moment before it releases like a breath of fresh air, and you'll feel like you aren't wearing anything at all. Operating it is intuitive, so you should get the hang of it."
He had completely lost his mind, Carol thought as she met his eyes. She was certain that he wouldn't actually try to close her inside the Suit, knowing that it would give her the ability to turn him into a smoldering crater in a heartbeat -- she counted on the idea that he didn't know that she didn't have the constitution to violently retaliate. He was likely trying to get her fired, and that she couldn't allow under any circumstance.
"Let me go," she ordered, hoping that her voice sounded strong and commanding. "I'm not authorized to use the Suit, and I will report you for misconduct."
"You think I care?" Hartmann grabbed Carol's chin and glared at her. "You'll have a fatal accident long before you report anything to anyone."
The look of sheer malevolence on his face caused her to panic, and before she knew it she had hit the button to close the Suit. Hartmann abruptly pulled his hand back with a cuss, and through the visor Carol could see that his wrist had been cut deeply, nearly severing his hand. She stayed very still, shocked and scared, wondering what she should do to get herself out of the metaphorical fire she had just jumped into. Then the interior of the Suit sprang alive with lights and the hum of circulated air, as a computer voice spoke,
"User detected: welcome back, Commander."
Carol's heart stopped.
Now she was really in trouble.
Keeping Secrets
Carol held her breath as the suit began to squeeze against her, gaining terrifying intensity until it abruptly released and she felt as light as a feather. She didn't dare move, however, staring at the master sergeant and wondering if he would let her out of the Suit. The irrational part of her hoped that he would apologize profusely, then head off to the medical bay to explain the truth and take his lumps, so to speak, so she could get her to get back to her job like nothing had ever happened.
The sight of blood and his dangling hand made her feel dizzy, and Carol was sure she would faint. She had not been trained for combat, and had never imagined herself getting anywhere near anything that could be dangerous or gruesome. As if in response, the air inside the Suit turned cool and her head began to clear, making her wonder if it had automatically increased the oxygen content.
The master sergeant's face had gone white, and after a seemingly long period of simply staring, he reached for the radio attached to the collar of his uniform. "The Suit has been hijacked, repeat, the Suit has been hijacked," he said. "This is MSG Hartmann, reporting casualties, in Bunker One."
"Okay," Carol whispered to herself. "Just sit tight, and explain everything when they get here. The security cameras should back up my story, so I just have to keep calm." No one knew that the Suit had called her 'commander', and she could keep that a secret till the day she died. Maybe. At the very least, she needed to escape her present situation without getting killed, or worse, fired, and that was going to keep her from wondering about anything else for a while.
Despite herself, sweat began to tickle her brow. No one was going to calmly listen to her, at least not at any point where it was going to matter for her personally. The master sergeant had accused her of highjacking, and the life of a simple cleaner wasn't going to matter anywhere near as much as ensuring that the military never lost the Suit. They would storm the bunker with their guns blazing, and she would die the moment she left her protective armor without ever getting a single word out. She was trapped.
A menu appeared on the visor in front of her eyes, and in despair Carol thought that it wasn't intuitive at all. "I don't know what it means!" she shouted at the computer. "Help me!"
"
Accessing help system
," the computer voice answered, and Carol expected the overlay on the visor to change. Instead, her whole body began to tingle, followed be the strangest sensation she had ever experienced, as if her mind had split in two and the panicked part of her had simply floated away. No one had ever said anything about the Suit being capable of something like
that
before.
She was now thinking clearly. When the soldiers stormed the bunker, she was ready.
"Access on-board camera and audio, and project video; set height to ten feet," she ordered the computer confidently, surprising even herself. The Suit flashed a light in front of it, forming a screen in the air. "Begin replay, starting point minus ... ten minutes." She wasn't sure how much time had passed, and hoped that she had gone back far enough.
Hartmann had ducked behind the line of soldiers, and was in the process of receiving first aid when the replay began. The recording of Carol protested, followed by the echo of his voice loudly filling the room with the words, "You think I care? You'll have a fatal accident long before you report anything to anyone."
He forcefully knocked down the medic and bolted before anyone else had the chance to react, clutching the bandages to his wrist and praying that he wasn't leaving a trail of blood for them to follow. He had acted rashly in a moment of passion, and now he was going to pay the price with not only his rank, but likely his hand as well. All he wanted now was to get away as fast as possible.
After the soldiers had been ordered to stand down, Carol opened up the Suit and stepped out with a smile of relief. She felt high, even as she was seized on both sides and taken to a small dark room, where she was left to wait alone. She was giddy, like she had just made love to her high school crush for the first time, and she was hopelessly caught up in the thought of doing it again. If she was ever let near the Suit after this, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from nestling inside.
The door opened, and a captain stepped in. He looked down at his watch, then up at Carol. "The General is on his way," he announced. "We'll begin then. For now, I want a written statement from you of what occurred." He set down a pad of paper and a pen on the table in front of her.
Carol hesitated, wondering how truthful she should be.
"This isn't official," the captain said quietly, leaning over her. "But I have to ask: how did you know the Suit has recording equipment installed? We could have clarified a certain number of missions had we known about it."
"I accessed the help system," Carol replied, her hand beginning to shake. She was abruptly coming down from her exhilaration, and all she really wanted to think about was what it had been like inside the Suit.
"No one has ever found a help system before," the captain pressed. "How did you know that existed?"
"I just asked for help." She was growing flustered.
He slammed his hand down on the table, making Carol jump. "Tell me, how did you do it?"
Carol kept her mouth shut, biting the inside of her cheek as she dug her fingernails into her wrist. Something deep inside of her screamed that she shouldn't tell him anything, that she needed to do whatever it took to keep her secret, but the way the captain had yelled at her was overwhelming. The emotional pressure brought tears to her eyes, so she blinked them back and struggled to regain her composure.
The captain made a disgusted noise, and once again looked down at his watch. "It's the fucking military, and the general can't be bothered to show up on time," he muttered to himself, then began pacing around the room.
"Am I going to lose my job?" Carol asked in a small cracked voice.
"Probably."
That broke the dam. She buried her head in her arms and sobbed against the table top, certain that her heart was shattering -- after spending her entire life feeling like an outsider, she had finally found true satisfaction and clarity, yet now she would never be allowed near the Suit again. She was destined to spend the rest of her days locked up in a cell, forever wondering why the Suit had called her 'commander,' and never having the chance to learn.
The Captain shook his head and took out his small notepad, jotting something down. When the door opened and the general stepped inside, he glanced at her with a look of surprise, then motioned for the captain to step outside. Having a moment alone help Carol regain herself, and when she sat back up she realized that she had sobbed all over her paper, leaving big wet splotches right in the middle of it. She wondered if she should ask for a new one, or try to write up her statement on it anyway.
