Suzie Drakes

Staring Into the Abyss

Suzie Drakes

   She saw O'Connor walking over as the nurse anxiously talked to him in
hushed whispers. Like that mattered, she could read their lips, and it
was as predictable as hell. She'd refused a sedative, and they were
asking him if they could do it anyway. Put her under some kind of psych
hold.

   Suzie finished picking the handcuff keeping her on the bed, and
walked over to him. "We should debrief."

   He sighed heavily, and nodded, "Yeah. I've got a command centre set
up."

   They walked in silence, but she could feel a shift in him. He wasn't
the mysterious and suave figure that he usually was. She had known he
had operated in battle zones and under fire before. She had a feeling
that the soldier inside him was threatening to make an appearance, and
everyone was going to regret it if it did.

   O'Connor ducked into the tent, and sat down at his desk.

   She sat down across from him, and took a deep breath, feeling the
memories sort and flash in front of her. She glanced at the tent flap,
and then stared at her feet. "Josiah shot Stephen. Right in front of us.
Unprovoked, as far as I can tell. Didn't see any obvious signal. He had
a phone, but I saw no signs of any notification from it. We were
mid-conversation about terrible zombie films."

   O'Connor nodded slowly, "Then what happened."

   "He punched Kim, knocking her down, and grabbed me by my hair.
Dragged me down and threatened Kim. I couldn't see a way to disarm him
before he could either kill or significantly harm her. I complied."
Suzie winced, "Then, he drew a circle on the wall in Stephen's blood.
Spelled out Atlas inside it. Whilst he was occupied, I took the tracker
Josiah planted in my bag earlier."

   "We found your arm." O'Connor nodded, "Techs are looking it over
before I return it. Don't want anymore surprises. Everything happens by
the book, now."

   "I'm too tired to argue." Suzie smiled at him, reassuring him.
"Josiah met a team in the hallway, dressed in army fatigues, but they
weren't recruits. Felt like mercenaries. Military postures, but not the
discipline. They escorted me to the fence line, and then drugged me."

   He winced, "Your reputation proceeds you. Go on."

   "Noticed a few things about the mercs." Suzie halted him, "Two of
them shared a tattoo, at least that I could see. An anchor with a human
eye, positioned over a sphere. Possibly a rendition of the world. One
had a European accent. Weaponry was outdated. Steyr-AUGs."

   O'Connor smiled softly, "Faces?"

   "I'll work with an artist later. But right now, it won't help. And I
just want this over and done with." She shook her head, "Woke up in a
facility. Steel door. Determined it was one of our off-grid torture
endurance training places. Bad set up. Like they rushed it. Used the
intercom to try and cheer up Kim, and then used it to shock the guard
bringing me food later. Tried to look like I was playing along until
then. Layout was the same as the place where I was taught, for the most
part. I'm sure you've got a report on who died and how by now."

   "Mm." He nodded grimly, "Pencil. Keys. You certainly improvised."

   "Did what had to be done." Suzie growled, daring him to criticise
her. Except she didn't see anything but concern in his eyes, and it was
beginning to piss her off. There was nothing she hated in the world more
than sympathy.

   "Drove here. Cauterised the bullet wound with a cigarette lighter."
She shrugged, "Never saw Ted. When we were escaping, he spoke over the
intercom. Asked me if I even knew why he felt the need to do what he
was. I don't. Don't have all the pieces."

   "You've had a rough time." O'Connor sighed heavily, "Here's what I
have. Jack Bush, our very own Agent Wild, is Section Eight. Planted to
investigate my very own self. Probably you, as well. Neither Section
Eight, nor my boss, are willing to talk about whether someone actually
built Atlas. But it seems like the hit team that attacked your beach
house were survivors of an attack."

   "Not possible." Suzie shook her head, "If someone really did build
it, you're not going to get survivors, sir. Atlas wasn't a Rod of God.
It didn't drop some massive thing from space and hope to hit the target.
That was the original design, and it stank. Atlas was designed for
sustained bombardment. Several hundred thousand depleted uranium shells
dropped from LEO over just a few kilometres. It'd be a firestorm. To
survive that, you would have to be one lucky son of a bitch."

   O'Connor frowned, "So what do you think this is?"

   "I reckon someone knew I designed a flaw into it. I think they wanted
to fix the flaw. And I think that the timeline is because they almost
have a window to launch it." Suzie grimaced.

   O'Connor shrugged, "Jack has provided me with the report that Atlas
was used. It's redacted to hell, but... It doesn't seem to talk about a
bombardment of any scale. It looks based on the prototype."

   "Which could never fly. Getting the payload up into space would take
more than the shuttles we currently have available are capable of."
Suzie shrugged, "Someone's bullshitting us."

   "Atlas is a smokescreen. It is possible that the project isn't
involved at all. What did they try and have you work on?" O'Connor asked
cautiously.