“They are the part that moves before fear can”

  Sparky on The Body Layer of nanites

  Sparky stayed at his terminal, an item so old it was no longer considered obsolete. It just wasn’t considered. Like a flint hammer at a gun fight.

  Then Feebee understood. It was part of the test. Deflection. A distraction. She looked at Sparky, was he reading her now?

  Maybe, maybe not. He hadn’t reacted to the insight.

  The buzzing chatter from the nanites built then suddenly became disjointed, confused? She felt around within the remaining noise.

  Sparky spoke up, “I’m seeing disruption in your nanites’ behavioural cycles.”

  “My what?” asked Feebee.

  Before Sparky could answer, Kirr explained. ‘The nanites would normally notice something like a build-up of lactic acid when you over-exercising. They’d rally round and try to process it out of your system. If that helps they keep doing it, if not they’d adjust and repeat the cycle until the lactic acid levels are back to normal levels. Same with tissue repair. Yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ Feebee understood.

  As she processed what they’d just told her a stabbing pain build in her stomach. “What’s happening?” She could no longer hold herself still. She gave into the pain and curled up into a ball.

  “Fight back. It’s only pain.”

  He pushed harder. Gave, nor offered any quarter.

  “Stop it Sparky. Please. It hurts.” Her looks were daggers.

  “Find the noise causing this. You can stop it.”

  The pain continued to build. Unrelenting.

  She dived into the buzzing nanite chatter. Listening, and found a single stream of muffled noise. A dark noise that had a different signature, a different feel. It covered and masked some of the nanites’ chatter. She followed it, moving upstream. Carefully, with the lightest of touches she pulled back the veil.

  I am a moment of quiet within your noise. I am stillness within your movement.

  She repeated it.

  It brought calmness, brought peace to her stillness.

  The noise was a steady trickle exploiting a vulnerability. How?

  She tasted the disruption as it leached into her. It was vile but the signature. It reminded her of something. Someone?

  She looked at Sparky. Although his hands moved across the keyboard, his lips moved to a different tune. A tune that aligned with the evil digital stench, a vile evil veil violating her.

  Feebee laughed, evil, vile and veil all have the same letters. Sparky read her and laughed too.

  As he did, his lips ceased to move and there was a moment when the flow stood still and the veil lifted for a second.

  Feebee saw her chance. She demanded that her nanites disrupt the source.

  PUSH BACK!!!.

  She gave the deep third layer, The Silent ones, the Agency to attack, to disrupt, to protect her. They would try, adapt and repeat until they were successful.

  The tone of nanite chatter within her changed, became quiet and still. Most of the nanites withdrew, making way for The Silent ones to act.

  Although they were few, The Silent ones were meshed with SolDiri purpose.

  Feebee’s brain glitched. A flash of old memories, ancient memories dropped into her consciousness. Just like that.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You Ok?” Sparky looked concerned.

  “Yeh, I’m fine. Memory flashes.” She focused on content now laid bare and exposed for her.

  It was obvious now, laid out before her with all the clarity the ancients needed to provide. The Silent ones were more than nanites. They were engines of fate wrapped around her bones, interlocked with the mesh augmenting her nervous system.

  The majority of nanites defended and maintained her. They did it very well. The Silent ones were different; they watched and were imbued with SolDiri purpose. They were highly effective and could attack as an autonomous nanite group, an ANG, so Agency had to be given sparingly.

  Each ANG held a remnant, a speck of the shattered SolDiri. Each was part of a SolDiri name, willingly given forward, part the SolDiri’s legacy.

  And as this was going on…

  The Beast noticed. What was the obsession with these four letters, V E L and I.

  The Beast had found that VELI meant brother in many human languages. Was there hidden meaning in these letters, some sort of secret brotherhood?

  The Beast added this query to a growing backlog.

  It was currently trying to understand why Feebee and Kirr people found it ‘strange but charming’ that there was no inter-dependency between the flavours of quarks. They’d laughed.

  Quarks had flavours but how was that funny? The Beast needed to understand, else how could it be effective.

  Kirr had suggested to Feebee that the problem be viewed ‘top down’. Feebee thought ‘bottom up’, then she’d questioned her whole understanding of the ‘matter’. They’d both roared with laughter.

  The Beast thrashed.

  The universe groaned.

  Back now…

  Feebee had managed to get back into a sitting position, legs crossed. Fists finally relaxed and on her knees.

  Sparky was mouthing commands.

  Her pain increased.

  She spoke through gritted teeth, ‘You have no right to treat me like this.’

  She fought back.

  Sparky turned to her again and stopped mouthing.

  The Silent ones were ready this time and leapt across. Into Sparky, piggy backing the carrier he was using to attack her.

  The ANG smashed through his defences.

  His face went slack.

  Kirr tried to intervene, but Feebee had isolated herself and given The Silent ones agency. They were called an ANG for a reason.

  They replicated with astonishing speed, swarming through Sparky.

  So much so that they completely disassembled him in seconds.

  He just blinked out of existence.

  ‘Feebee, what did you just do?’ It was Kirr, frantic.

  ‘I PUSHED BACK!!! That’s what I did. I trusted him and he hurt me.’

  ‘But Feebee, it was a test. An exercise.’

  ‘Oh. Ok. Good.’ She said, more as a reflex, than anything else.

  Kirr immediately came back at Feebee. ‘No! NOT good.’

  Feebee studied in her room. Electronics and Maths. She found maths hard but was good at arithmetic. Good with numbers.

  She ate in her room and then went to bed.

  She didn’t sleep.

  Next morning Feebee got up and walked her normal route to the rest area.

  The route took her past the armoury.

  Peas sat at a bench. In front of her was a rifle, broken down. She was cleaning the parts. Seeing Feebee called out, “Morning Ma’am”

  “Morning Peas. Aren’t there other things to clean?”

  Peas shrugged, ‘I’ll look into it Ma’am.”

  In the rest room, the two coffee boys sat alone. Three coffee cups, one still full were on the table. Some biscuits had been left on a plate. Bench press and Spotter were in their corner doing weights.

  “Where’s Sparky,” asked Feebee.

  There was an awkward silence.

  ‘He didn’t make it,’ was all Kirr said. Feebee tried to get more information, but Kirr wouldn’t say anything beyond that.

  And so, it went on. Lessons, study but there were also exercises, serials and fight club. She’d enjoyed learning how to fly the copter, but she really liked fight club. Especially with all its variations. She particularly liked a short form of hand-to-hand fighting that focused on quick violent attacks. The method demanded a careful study of the opponent so at to know where to strike with brutal efficiency.

  The fights all start the same, with a slow walk to the centre of a bare mat. She would sit, cross legged and wait for her opponent to materialise.

  Breath and stillness were the key.

  Usually the opponent circles. Her eyes following their movements, looking for imbalance in their step. Prior injuries, vulnerabilities.

  They move. Feebee doesn’t. They circle around her. Easy steps, she tracks the sound, its information.

  She watches and learns, studying them, where is the centre of balance?

  Once found, eyes track that point. Feet and hands, claws and antennae can lie. The centre of balance around which all movement must rotate cannot.

  She waits, observes. The longer the opponent takes the more she learns.

  How does it move. Does it favour one side? How does it breathe? What is the cadence of its breath?

  The stillness between breathes changes. Not by much but enough to hear. To know.

  Its balance shifts slightly. Towards her. She smiles. Not outwardly, that would give away her advantage.

  She prepares her muscles, forcing energy into them through isometric preloading. Pre-activation, getting them ready to fire-up.

  It continues to circle until behind her. Its steps change, go quiet. It’s about to attack.

  Then the attack comes. It rushes in.

  She is immediately rising to her feet, turning towards the threat. Not away. A knife is suddenly in it’s hand. Outstretched, not by much. A forearm’s length.

  She feints to the left, steps inside. ‘ENTER’.

  Then strikes. The knife ignored. No wind-up. Nothing to give away the point of attack. Two fingers into the throat. A crushing kick to the knee, there’s a snap. Like brittle wood. The knee fails. ‘PLACE’.

  The body drops to the floor, clutching its throat. She has the knife. ‘COLLAPSE’.

  No follow-through necessary although she feels the pull to continue. She resists the urge to kill and maim.

  The drill ends.

  She is in the centre of the matt. There is no fanfare. Just a return to silence.

  Feebee puts the knife in her belt and sits back down. Cross legged, fists relaxed on her knees. Breathing easy, unrushed. Balanced.

  Another opponent appears and comes forward. This one is a different shape, different form, different weapon. It circles…

  She followed the same process.

  Entry, deny distance.

  Placement, disrupt structure.

  Collapse, remove balance.

  Note to file…

  Self-defence System in place.

  Time to engage: Negligible

  Noise: None

  Physical: On Track …END

  Her time wasn’t just spent fighting. She studied physiologies she was likely to encounter. Humans and Drexari, but also more obscure species like Crystal Mantids, not all aliens are bipedal. Even other Terran apex predictors like Brown Bears, Lions, Tigers. She hadn’t fought them yet but wanted to.

  With Sparky gone she had to learn electronics and pick up his workload. ‘Earning her keep’ Kirr called it.

  She was able to fix up more of the maintenance droids which in turn could do maintenance work. It was a multiplier that saw the ship heal the scar created by the Asteroid and get back some semblance of control.

  But the damage had been done. Too much lost.