The Unknowing War (Optimum Project sequel)

Chapter 10

Preppers, Dancers, and Shadows

For the next two days, every single authorized biological entity on the Titian, from the technicians to the lab rats, got a shot that granted them immunity from radiation. Technicians who had already gotten their shots now ran around preparing nanite deployment systems for the event of emergency repairs. Every one of the production systems were working nonstop on weapons, ammo, and parts for fighters it was as if we were preparing to go into hostile territory against some unknown enemy.

Oh, that's right, isn't it?

I popped my knuckles and focused on the task at hand, I was practicing nanite formulation again, this time instead of rigid materials like metals or ceramics, I was working on making fabrics, Kevlar, wool, polyester. I took a deep breath and spread my fingers, willing the nanites to flow around them and condense into strands, weaving themselves together and condensing into fabrics. When I was done I wore a pair of fingerless gloves, easily flexible and yet due to the nanite properties would be able to stop bullets at virtually point blank range.

I sat back, leaving my hands splayed on the table for Pix's inspection. He looked them over, nodding slowly, "What kind of texture did you use?"

I thought for a second, "55% polyester, 45% cotton, feels as close to the real thing as I can imagine."

Pix nodded, "You're getting better, coupled with the fact that you can produce more nanites given the materials you are practically a walking armory."

I shrugged, "let's just hope I won't need to pull out the big guns."

Pix snorted, "like you could pull any out anyway."

I had originally thought at the beginning of my lessons that the nanites were actually gathering and forming the materials I used, but then Pix had explained that the nanites were the materials, and yet still couldn't replicate certain characteristics, such as gun powder's tendency to be... Volatile.

I shrugged, trying to keep the smirk I had off my face, "I'll settle for what the armory's got."

Pix snorted, "Settle, most of those guns could blast a hole in the side of the Titan."

I shrugged again, "Question is, how big's the hole?"

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After finishing up most of my other training sessions for the day, I met up with Sarah, Bree, and Peter in the mess hall.

I plopped down on the bench next to Peter as he and Bree maintained an in depth debate on the pros and cons of developing energy weapons instead of projectile based "juiced" weapons, guns that super charged their bullets with electricity to cause damage to various systems, biological or technological.

"I'm just saying, at the velocity you would want for a plasma based projectile, the magnetic containment field would fail." Peter said with a shrug.

Bree frowned, "There has to be a solution..." She sat up with a mischievous grin, "But in the mean time, you could have a plasma thrower!"

I laughed, and both Peter and Bree shot me a slightly hurt look at the idea of me laughing at their 'serious' conversation before going back to their discussion.

I turned to Sarah, "Hey," I gave her a nudge, "You ok? You seem quiet."

She looked up, "Yeah, just a little tired, I haven't gotten much sleep lately."

I nodded, "That's understandable, I hardly get enough either."

A lot of people were being assigned double duty lately to make up on lost time with the preparations, mobilization day was next week and there was still a daunting amount of work to do. I myself had pulled a few extra shifts too, secret military weapon or not.

Without even really thinking about it I pulled out some parts I had pocketed earlier today and began tinkering with them. Sarah watched, almost mesmerized as I put the pieces together, connecting wires, plugs, screwing components onto one another like a puzzle with hundreds of solutions. When I was finally done with the technological part I made a show of reaching into my pocket, while on the sly focusing on making a casing with some spare nanites I had in my system.

I reached out and set a simple black box on the table in front of Sarah, at this point Bree and Peter had taken note of my tinkering, and now they all watched as I reached out and tapped the top.

The box opened, shifting and folding until a miniature geometric ballerina stood in front of us on the table.

Bree looked at me, "Noah, it's -"

I held up my hand and raised my eyebrows at her, the universal sign for, "wait for it..."

I looked at the ballerina and tapped the edge of it's tutu, it curtsied and soon I began humming an old earthen tune, Moon Light Sonata. My friends watched as the ballerina danced in time with the improvised music, pirouetting, leaping, rolling, generally doing what ballerinas do - dance gracefully.

I blinked the tears from my eyes as I looked up at my friends, sniffling loud enough to draw their attention away from the ballerina.

"My mom was a ballerina," I sniffed again and looked at the figure on the table, who was now on its knees, head down and tucked just above them. "My father always said she was the best at what she did, and could have gone anywhere."

I sighed, "but... She got sick, some sort of cancer that acted differently than anything the doctors had ever seen."

I drummed my fingers on the table for a moment before snapping at the ballerina on the table, which immediately folded itself up into its original box.

I snatched it up and stood, keeping my head down as I wiped the tears in my eyes, "I think I want to be alone for a while."

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I don't know what made me do it, in fact I don't even know why.
Why is it that at the cusp of true contentment, we all, as humans in general, somehow dredge up shadows of the past to darken it? I couldn't tell you... Can you tell me?

But my mechanical friend failed to answer.

I suppose only I can answer those kinds of questions.

Thing is... Will I like those answers?