Synopsis: A cold war project gains consciousness and will stop at nothing to achieve its goals. The question is "What is it after?".
Three hundred feet below the perpetually frozen Alaskan permafrost sirens blared their hideous sound, red strobes in corridors shone through the hazy dark. In the lab areas papers were strewn upon the floor, chairs were overturned, monitors and hard drives destroyed. The air reeked of ammonia and other chemicals. Warm glass shards sat still upon the cold concrete floor. It was level 1 breach. The lower levels of the complex were emptied and sealed in less than 20 seconds.
Two men in the complex above let out a sigh of relief. They had just finished the lock down without a hitch. No lives lost. 12 scientists and 15 soldiers evacuated in 20 seconds. It wasn't uncommon to end up a few heads short. But then again, the incident had been becoming less and less frequent as of late. Something which Mark was grateful for. He had seen enough of his friends die in the past 4 years. His partner Joe was new to the job, having to replace Mike after an earlier incident landed him in the intensive care unit 2 legs short.
Private Joe Masterson was young, being only 23 he had no facial scars, no bullet wounds. Both of which his partner had plenty of. Joe's life as a navy seal had been short. 6 months after he graduated he was transfered to the most north west corner of Alaska. The lesson to be learned was never to insult a superior officer out of uniform. Especially when the insult was directed at the superior officers wife who happened to be standing right behind him at the time.
Filling out his uniform standing 5' 10" in his dark grey camo with close-cut brown hair and hazel eyes, Joe kept in shape. Constantly going to the gym and running on the treadmill. There really wasn't much else to do when not on duty at a complex out in the middle of no where. 4 Months out of the year no outside transport was able to touch down at the facility, but then again the generators didn't have to work as hard. The chance of an incident was miniscule. For the rest of the year a transport would come around every week to resupply and check to make sure the complex wasn't compromised. The pilots had orders, and the two 10 mega ton tactical nuclear warheads beneath either wing made it blatantly clear to everyone involved that a full breach would be met with extreme measures. But then again, no one knew if 20 mega tons coupled with the ten mega ton nuke already on sight would be enough.
"Thank god for those safety routines we keep on running. This could have been a lot worse."
"Shut up Joe."
"I'm just saying that it could have been a lot worse."
"And I said shut up." It wasn't that Mark disliked Joe. In fact on their weeks off in Juno they often went out to the bars together to catch some tail. They had the father son routine down to an art. Lt. Mark Samson stood at an imposing 6' 2", an ex-ranger he had served his term with distinction being awarded 3 purple hearts and the silver star before being moved to a "better post" at the "old age" of 36. What he wouldn't do to find the pencil pusher that placed him in this godforsaken wasteland. Weighing in at 210lbs of cut muscle with razor sharp blue eyes he stared intently at the monitors. Watching for movement.
Slightly miffed, Joe swiveled in his chair, picked up the phone and placed a call to the head scientist Dr Cynthia Baine.
"What took you so long!" She was pissed which wasn't unusual. She really did fit her name. "You should have called me 10 seconds ago! Put Mark on the phone!" So he did just that, handing the phone over to the senior officer sitting beside him, not even able to get a word in.
'Oh boy', Joe thought, he did not envy Mark at that moment.
What resulted was a very terse conversation with Dr Baine yelling and Mark giving calm smooth replies. One minute after it started Mark gently hung up the receiver and went back to watching the monitors. Joe would often rib Mark that he would be going deaf in the near future if she kept insisting on only talking to him.
"You are one smooth operator, you know that. Now I can see how you got with that fine little piece of Japanese ass last month"
"Pay attention to your monitors."
"I am, don't worry." Mark turned slightly in his chair. His face cold and expressionless.
"You like being alive?" Joe scoffed and turned back to his monitors.
The conversation ended abruptly. Joe knew very little about the tests, but he did know that in the past four years 18 soldiers that were placed at this facility had never left. Mark was the oldest and most experienced of all of the soldiers on sight. Of the original 15 placed at the facility when it opened only 6 were still alive, and only 4 of them were still working at the complex.
For four more hours the pair stared intently at their monitors watching for any sign of movement, any brief rays of electricity. It was coming up on hour number 5 when Sgt. Cobleman and private Ruiz, two of the other soldiers, came in to replace them. Mark handed over his station as did Joe, relaying to the next team the current situation. It was time to get some shut-eye.
Cynthia was agitated. Her tests were going so smoothly and then out of the blue the alarm goes off! The soldiers rushed into the lab, tore them away from their stations, threw them into the emergency lifts and before any of the scientists have a chance to say anything found themselves in the receiving bay of the surface complex.
'The military and it's protocols.' she was sick and tired off being bruised by those damned inconsiderate soldiers. Why the higher-ups had insisted on forced evacuations was beyond her. 'Scientists are intelligent enough to get to the lifts when the alarm sounds' she thought smugly. Having graduated from MIT with her fifth doctorate at the age of 25 Dr Cynthia Baine was the second youngest female on site. At a young age everyone took note of her amazing ability to decipher complex problems and come up with innovative solutions. Deemed a child prodigy she was sent off to RPI, a highly regarded engineering college at the age of 13. Unable to understand her, her parents had come to the conclusion that the best thing they could do for her was allow her to interact with people of the same intellectual caliber. Thus once she went to college they let her to fend for herself. After the first year of no contact with them, feeling abandoned and alone she buried herself in books and at the gym. Over the next eight years she excelled at every institution she attended and became a highly respected scientist in the growing fields of nano, laser, and data transfer technology as well as cryptography. But all of those years had cost her dearly. She had difficulty interacting with others. Often she would come off as being haughty and having a superiority complex. If it were not for her younger roommate she would have most likely become a hermit.
After 3 years on campus she became undeniably one of the most beautiful women to ever grace the campus grounds. Due to her long brown hair, B cup breasts and goddess-like body it seemed that the only thing men had on their minds around her was sex and sex was the only thing they would get. One-night stands were something that she became good at, fuck and chuck. 'No cuddling, no foreplay, play by my rules or get the hell out' was her motto. If the guy didn't get off, too bad for him. To her sex was a quick release between work out sessions and lab time.
Because of this lifestyle and her reputation as one of the best theorists in the world Cynthia was the ideal candidate to lead project Cold Water after its previous lead scientist, Dr Hans Gruber died 21 seconds after a level four breach. Project Cold Water was begun back in the early 1980's during the Reagan administration as a part of the Star Wars project intended to defend the United States from a Soviet nuclear missel strike. The theory behind Cold Water was that lasers passed through a certain medium would instil in that medium trace amounts of energy. The placement of these trace amount of energy would have to be precise in order for the medium to contain the energy and not dissipate it. Basically when you heat up a pot of water and then turn off the heat, the water cools, releasing all of the energy put into the system. In the case of project Cold Water the water doesn't cool, but then again the water isn't warmed either with the addition of energy. By bombarding a small sample of medium at specific angles scientists were able to create these small spheres of super-charged medium, creating a refraction interior that isolated the energy and allowed it to build up. With the addition of more and more energy to the sphere of medium the system would become more stable and thus could contain more energy up to a point. Once the sphere was brought to the point where it could pass threshold it would be sent into outer space and set up in an orbit above known Soviet missile installations. In the event of a Soviet launch lasers mounted in friendly orbiting satellites would target the spheres, causing them to break threshold and release the energy they contained. The explosions would knock down the Soviet missiles and render their ground installations inoperative for several hours due to the EMP released. The spheres would be transparent, cold, making them completely undetectable.
However during the creation of these spheres the scientists never realized the implications of small world network theory. Basically, where data transmitted from point to point interacts with data going from point to point leading to the rise of a superstructure upon which more complex patterns can be formed. The energy inside of the sphere interacted, going from point to point to point at the speed of light. In one of the spheres the scientists noted that the energy had formed a complex, consistent, stable pattern. The pattern should have shifted and rotated under the influence of the electro magnets used to create and contain the spheres but it didn't. The scientists at the time had no idea how it occurred. Because of this they decided to isolate the sample for further analysis in a small lab in the the north west corner of Alaska. There it was believed that the sample could be kept close to absolute zero using powerful electromagnets coupled with an ingenious vacuum technology. The patterns could thus be analyzed.
Upon the transfer date everything seemed to be going according to plan. The only discrepancy being a small computer glitch that occurred while the sample was being transfered to the transport plane. Shortly after take off, out in the middle of the New Mexico desert an explosion took place. The facility in which the spheres had been created was destroyed due to a laser that stuck a sphere at threshold. The government saved face by claiming that they were testing a new type of hydrogen bomb, behind the scenes the NSA placed all data concerning Cold Water in the hands of Dr Hans Gruber with the hope of salvaging some of the project.
Dr Gruber discovered that the patterns within the sphere were linked to one another. He hypothesized that the patterns were the constructs upon which calculations were being made. Testing this theory, a laser was set up to add a small addition of energy to the sphere to discover whether or not it would be integrated into the current pattern. Much to the surprise of everyone involved the sphere opened up temporarily allowing it to fully absorb all the energy input. Similar to a plant responding to light by bending towards it, Dr Gruber's hypothesis was more than confirmed. The calculations being made were similar to that of a living organism trying to obtain more energy. Upon hearing this the NSA called for further tests.
The cold war ended in 1989 with the fall of the Berlin wall but project Cold Water continued. The sphere was subjected to a multitude of tests and experiments. It learned over time how to reach out with its power and influence the world around it. This however required a substantial amount of energy input. After 6 year and a long battery of uninspiring results the costs out paced the forseen benefits. In 1995 the NSA ordered that the project be terminated.
The plan was simple seeing as the sphere was created to lose stability and explode once it reached threshold. Dr Gruber intended to destroy the sphere with a focused laser pulse, pushing it beyond its threshold capacity. Thus eradicating the facility and all information about Cold Water outside of NSA headquarters at the same time.
On January 21st 1996 the facility was vacated, the laser targeted, and with a good-bye Dr Gruber threw the switch. Four hours and no explosion, 10 hours and no explosion, 24 hours and no explosion, the scientists went back inside figuring that the laser had malfunctioned as it often did. Upon entering the lowest lab level they noted that the sphere was no more. In its place was a floating mass of medium with several tendrils reaching outside of the magnetic field. It lashed out at the intruders with its electrified extensions. Dr Freilander was the first to fall. The tendrils inserted themselves into her eyes, ears, and chest. Blood began to stream down her face and midsection. As she opened her mouth to scream a larger tendril pushed into the open orifice and with a sickened snap ripped away all of the flesh connecting her lower jaw to the rest of her face. The same tendril continued to push deeper down into her throat. More tendrils entered her body as she was lifted off of the floor, the note pad she was carrying fell from her hand as she attempted to remove the tendril asphyxiating her.
Once over the shock Dr Gruber acted quickly, he ran to the computer controlling the laser and turned it off. The medium that used to be shaped like a sphere shrieked as it fell back into the containment shielding provided by the magnets, no longer having the energy to resist its pull.
Dr Frielander was the first to die. She would not be the last.
The NSA was unsure of what to do now that the sphere had given rise to something that they had never suspected could happen. Further attempts to destroy the medium failed coasting the lives of many scientists and much valuable research. The last scientist to die was Dr Gruber himself. The medium had been able to fully breach the containment and kill all personnel on site. The only thing that stopped it from breaching the complex was a safety protocol. Dr Gruber knew that the medium could not contain enough energy in its current state to fully breach the compound. When the medium ran out of energy and had to retreat back to the laser to recharge, the magnetic field came back on and trapped it. Once there the laser self-destructed and a clean up crew came on site shortly there after. Seeing as all conventional methods had failed in an attempt to destroy their creation and the president's firm stance that nuclear weapons could not be used the NSA was left with no choice but to maintain the facility. After the loss of their lead scientist and acquisition of this new information the NSA set down 5 points to govern the complex.
The last point being unknown to the president. Thus a nuclear warhead was placed below the facility and Dr Cynthia Baine contacted to lead a team to try and communicate with the medium.
Sick of sitting alone in the receiving bay, Dr Baine stood, stretching her lithe 5' 8" frame. She rested her hands on top of her her head and muttered softly under her breath.
"Why did I ever take this job?"
"Because you were the only one crazy enough to want to be couped up in an isolated facility 900 miles away from the nearest part of civilization." Snickering "You just failed to mention that when you convinced me to join up." It was Cal, Cynthia's roommate from RPI and the only reason why she was kept sane for the past four years. Leaning up against the doorway, standing a dominating 5' 3" Cynthia looked down at the long haired, brown eyed brunette, a sly smirk crossing her face.
"Your a doctor of quantum field mechanics and cryptography, you should be able to figure out why I needed you to come along." Upon hearing her remark Cal pushed off of the wall and casually walked up to where Cynthia was standing, starring intently into her deep dark brown eyes the entire way.
"I can make an educated guess..."
The two slipped seamlessly into one another's arms as they had done countless times before. The boundaries of their friendship had gone beyond that of being strictly platonic their second year together at RPI and as their friendship had strengthened so too had the feelings of comfort and safety that came with that embrace. Over the past four years Cal had seen many of the soldiers protecting her die in the process. Having the charge of maintaining the magnetic field around the medium, Cal possessed the least envied job in the entire facility. After a brief kiss, the two pulled apart. Cynthia looked around briefly.
"Hey, Cal, where did your boy toy run off to?"
"Oh, Carl got cut as he ducked into the lift after me. Said he was going to the infirmary to get it stitched up." Cynthia nodded slowly, satisfied that nothing was wrong, she began to pay more attention to the cleavage she spied from her superior height. Cal meanwhile slowly let her hand drop to lower part of Cynthia's back, gently stroking where the small V formed as her other hand reached in between the two hugging bodies, making its way to its intended target. Cynthia mewed in delight, Cal always knew how to press her buttons. Sometimes she felt like a puppet on strings, but she trusted Cal and would do practically anything for her. Some times she wondered if she even had a choice.
"It was only a level one breach, it'll be 90 minutes before the fly over and another 30 after that to release the locks on the shutdown..." Cal said suggestively as she gazed up into Cynthia's slowly smoldering eyes as they stared into space.
"Well, I guess since Mike is slee..." Cal stopped stroking Cynthia's lower back and deftly removed her hand from Cynthia's trousers. Immedeatley she pushed her juice coated pointer finger into Cynthias mouth and firmly pulled her taller colleague tightly against her with the hand located in the small of her back. She replaced her hand that had vacated its position between Cynthias legs with her knee as she slowly rocked it back and forth over her sensitive lips and nub. Bent over from the shock of the sudden change in Cal's behavior Cynthia found her ear bathed with hot moist breath rolling gently from Cal's mouth as she whispered.
"Slaves don't guess. They do what their mistress tells them." Cynthia realizing what was happening relaxed and began to loyally suck and tongue her own juices off of her mistresses finger. Cal meanwhile extended her tongue and ran it lightly over the outer rim of her enraptured slaves ear. Feeling that her finger was sufficiently clean "Get your collar. Be at my room in 5 minutes." and with that, extricated her finger from its oral haven and her body from its hot and bothered colleague as she purposefully strode towards her room to prepare. Cynthia was left, standing still, basking in the warmth, yearning to continue, she slowly came out of a haze, regaining her senses. She buttoned up the front of her lab coat to conceal her excitement, and fairly flew towards her room, eagerly anticipating what was to come.
Meanwhile 90 minutes away a pair of F-117's streaked across the moonlit sky heading for their target.
"This is Mako one. We are 700 clicks away from target, I see a vapor trail coming from your 7, confirm, over." Capt. Dan Shepard mouth spoke smoothly into its mask.
"Roger Mako one, this Mako two over. We seem to be having some trouble with the reserve fuel line. Closing it down. Seems like I'll have to head back to the barn a little early over." Lt. Jon Shepard, Capt. Dan Shepards younger brother relayed.
"Don't worry I've got this one covered, that's why they always send both of us, redundancy, over."
"Roger. Heading back to the barn Mako one, Mako two out."
The F-117 veered effortlessly to its right as is made a slow roll, heading back the way it came.
Capt. Dan Shepard, a decorated pilot that had seen action over the Iraqi desert and mountains of Afghanistan had graduated top of his class from the Air Force academy. With blonde hair, blue eyes, and a well built 200lb frame he stood 5' 11". He was a man who had 3 months earlier kissed his wife and 6 month old son goodbye as he went on his 6 month tour stationed at an air base 10 miles outside of Juno Alaska. His body smiled as it glanced to its right at the slumped form of Lt. Katrina Marco, Capt. Shepard's copilot. She rested against her harness gently rocking in time with the movements of the plane. A slow trickle of blood flowed from the base of her skull, just above her hair line where the 9mm bullet had entered, ending her previous existence as she had reached down to retrieve a pen her commander had dropped just minutes earlier.
Placing the F-117 on auto pilot and removing his helmet, Shivers looked down upon the body as he worked to remove the straps holding him to his seat.
Bringing his hand to the back of his neck he exposed a penny sized scar. The scab fell off as approximately one teaspoon of clear medium was secreted into a waiting palm. With care, Shivers placed part of himself where the bullet had entered Katrina's skull. Willing it to do his bidding, the medium crept inside, effectively sealing the opening and coating her outer white matter as it seeped deeper into the crevices and valleys of her now dead brain.
Done with his work, Shivers reclined in his chair and admired the body of his temporary acquisition. Katrina fit the dimensions of the cockpit perfectly. Being 5' 6" and weighing 125lbs she was able to navigate what little space there was in the cockpit with ease. He flexible body had been the product of years of competitive gymnastics before joining the air force. A trait which would come in handy for the last 90 minutes of her bodies existence. After two minutes Shivers placed his hand over the right part of Katrina's chest. Sending a brief electric pulse, her heart began to pump once more. Slowly Katrina's hazel eyes opened. Motor functions were restored as she took inventory of what had transpired. Gazing at the floor she noticed the small pool of blood that was leaving a warm red trail as in headed towards the back part of the cabin. Bringing her hand to the back of her neck she felt the beginnings of a scab forming and confirmed that she had been shot. Shivers sat in his chair, grinning at his copilot. With a hint of sarcasm:
"About time you woke up." Staring at the blood coating her hand she looked into the eyes of the individual who she had grown to respect and admire over the past 2 years of her life.
"You shot me..." Shivers gave a quick nod of ascent preparing to watch as the life drained from her hysterical eyes. A past time which he never seemed to tire of.
"Why?" It would be the last question and last word she ever spoke of her own free will as the medium coating her mind noted the nod given by its owner. The medium rewired her brain in less than a millisecond, effectively becoming an irremovable part of her person. Her posture changed from that of a frightened woman into that of a animal readying to pounce. Her back straightened, her eyes narrowed, chin tilted slightly forward and to the side, she gazed at him through several loose strands of her soft golden hair. Her hazel eyes turned to a gentle green as her body luxuriated in the feelings of arousal coursing through its entirety. Slowly, sensuously she removed her restraints and began to crawl across the center consol towards her new owner. Using one hand she began to unzip the front of her flight suite and with the other she reached in between her master's legs and began to slowly arouse the hardening bulge.
Shivers forced his right hand under Katrina's flight suit and began to lightly run his finger tips over her well toned ass. With her arms no longer in her sleeves Katrina was attempting to use her free hand to push the entire suit off of her body. A light sheen of sweat could be seen forming on her brow as she had just previously removed both of her boots by bringing her legs over her head from behind, not willing to break eye contact with her master. He liked it when she looked up at him in supplication, liked it when she purred as he caressed her body. She nuzzled into his rock-hard chest as she completed her objective of fully removing her flight suit. Free of any restraints, tightly gripping the back of his neck, Katrina slowly dragged her tongue up his chest, the side of his neck, and along his jaw line as she repositioned her legs to either side of him. Her other hand guided him into her as her now sand-paper like tongue became re-lubricated inside of her masters mouth. The slickness of her body allowed their movements to be fluidic as they rubbed chest on chest, thigh on thigh. Gyrating, one into the other, they moved perfectly in unison.
Removing his hand from her ass, Shivers moved it up to the small of her back to guide her movements into a grinding motion and with the other stroked the back of her neck gently. She purred happily into his mouth as her body moved up and down, side to side on his 8" cock. Using her hands she lightly scratched his back, alternating with more powerful thrusts by grabbing the underside of his arms and forcing his phallus deeper into her tight pulsing channel. Katrina began to cry in ecstasy into her masters mouth as he brought the hand massaging her neck down onto her well lubricated clit and began to expertly thumb it back and forth.
Two minutes later, and approximately 30 minutes till they reached their destination, Katrina came for the last time. Her body was rocked so hard with spasms that she nearly bit off her own tongue. Shivers came simultaneously into her, savoring the moment for as long as he could before he gently picked Katrina's limp form off of his deflating cock and lay her across the center consol.
Satiated, but knowing that her job was not yet finished, Katrina lovingly cleaned her master's cock with her still-quivering tongue as he softly stroked her hair and told her of her future.
29 minutes later, radios at the complex and military base in Juno came alive.
"MAYDAY! MAYDAY! LEVEL 4 BREACH IN PROGRESS! ENGINES MALFUNCTIONING! THIS IS MAKO ONE! GOING DOWN AT COORDINATES........" The transmission cut off abruptly as Lt Katrina Marco's voice gave way to static as she fired the rest of the 9mm clip into the radio consol. At the same time she activated the jamming system.
Shivers had ejected moments earlier as she directed the plane towards the communications array located on the perimeter of the complex. 5 seconds later the F-117 stuck its target no bombs in tow.
Chapter 2 coming as soon as I have it proofread sufficiently.
(One word... Clitosaurous... that is all.)
Feed back welcome at socratese291@gmail.com