Erebus’s headquarters is where all of their members live when they aren’t on duty. They don’t have personal rooms, but they do have recreation and debriefing rooms. When they go to sleep, they enter their ‘pod’. This is because their bodies, augmented and non-human to a large extent, are unable to get a normal night’s sleep. To recharge, they must enter their pods, where the internal machinery takes over what normal bodies do when they sleep.
When Wallachia first saw one of these, her first thought was of that pod she had originally awakened from. Hence, she had been reluctant about entering it. She didn’t want any more of the unpleasent fluid down her throat, or to be shackled by cables again. However, they had explained to her that that particular pod had been a Revival-type. These other pods were simply Recharge-types. There wouldn’t be any fluid or restraints. Just a cable to jack into her brain that took command of her systems, human and non-human.
She hadn’t thought of that as a better alternative, but she had no other choice in this matter and in the end tried it and had made herself comfortable with using it. The thought of Erebus looking into her mind while she recharged was uncomfortable, but now she no longer thought twice about it. It had a weird effect on her body and she always felt like she had been sleeping for around eight full hours whenever she stepped out of it, refreshed and awake.
This morning, when the cable unplugged itself according to its preset schedule, and Wallachia opened her eyes after five hours of recharging, Due stood before her with her arms crossed. She waited for Wallachia’s systems to come online before she spoke.
“Good morning. It’s maintenance day,” she said when Wallachia finally managed to focus on her.
Wallachia groaned and climbed out of the pod. She didn’t like maintenance day very much. For one, she didn’t get to kill anything. Two, they’d open certain parts of her up to check if everything was working correctly. You’d think that they could do that easily with the in-built monitoring monitors that were connected to the Erebus Control Center, but that didn’t seem to be enough when they wished to be very thorough.. That system could only identify exterior damages and control their bodies. If something needed fixing, or configuration, they’d have to poke inside.
They left the pod room - a nickname given by its inhabitants - and headed down one level. The headquarters was massive, hidden below ground to the south of Cranagan. Wallachia had heard rumours that it had once been a research facility going way back to the Ancient Belka era, before the time of the TSAB. She’d made a mental note to check that rumour out some day.
Maintenance Room 2 was only a few meters down the hallway on the third floor. When they approached the door, a small terminal slid out from the wall. It was very small and only had a screen blaring red with a small hole beneath it. Wallachia stuck her thumb inside the hole and felt the familiar sting of a needle drawing blood. The screen turned green when the blood sample was confirmed and they both walked in.
A doctor looked up from his computer terminal as he heard the door open and got to his feet.
“Wallachia, Due,” he said and nodded in greeting. Wallachia recognized him as Doctor Krugen, one of the few doctors she actually liked because he didn’t draw things out. He’d just get on with it without asking too many questions.
“Take a seat, both of you.” He motioned at two reclining chairs next to two terminals. They did as he said. “Just give me a few minutes to set things up.”
Wallachia took a deep breath and slowly breathed out through her mouth as the terminal beside her started to transform. On the side of it a hatch opened and a mechanical arm slid out. At the end of the arm there were several tools that could be switched automatically, depending on the task. It went out to about one meter, then it collapsed in the middle to a ninety degree angle and built itself up until it was over Wallachia. The seat reclined until she was in a supine position.
“Ready?” Doctor Krugen asked. They both nodded and he went to work. They could hear his fingers clattering away on the keyboard, sending commands.
The two terminals were connected to the Doctor’s computer terminal. With the help of advanced programs he could control both arms at the same time, though most of the time they worked independently with artificial intelligence performing his routines he had written. Wallachia’s terminal switched its first tool to a quite long, but thin needle, and approached her with a quiet mechanical grace.
Wallachia’s bodysuit slid back to reveal a spot on her right arm. The robotic arm moved down to it and inserted the needle into her skin, which stung a little. It injected an anesthetic into her bloodstream and pulled out quickly, switching to a drill-looking thing. It then moved to her left arm and scanned it. The green light swept back and forth before it found the mechanical screws under her skin. When it did, the light disappeared and the drill shot down, penetrating the skin and attaching itself to the screw. With a barely audible noise it unscrewed one and then moved on to the next.
It repeated the procedure for the four other screws before switching over to a clamp. This was the part Wallachia disliked most as it reminded her of the past. She couldn’t feel anything due to the anesthetic, but it didn’t help against the mental image.
The metal part under her skin had narrow indents in it. The clamp on the robotic arm attached to them and opened Wallachia’s arm like a car’s hood. A little bit of blood trickled down on the sides and tissue was ripped off that would have to be replaced. The ‘hatch’ clicked into place when it reached a ninety degree angle and the clamp detached itself, switching to a needle again. Compared to the first one, this one was thicker and darker. It searched for the input slot inside her arm and inserted itself, connecting with the interface.
It checked for irregularities in the system, but only for the arm. It was separate from everything else in terms of internal monitoring, same as her lungs, right leg and the device attached to her head. The procedure would have to be repeated for every system.
As the diagnostics program ran, Wallachia glanced at Due. She had her eyes closed while the arm on her terminal worked on something on her right thigh. Neither of them could talk due to the anesthetic, so Wallachia closed her eye too. There wasn’t a need to observe.
The needle detached, done with its work, and switched to the clamp. It brought down the hatch and drilled the screws back on. As soon as it moved away to focus on her right leg, a restraint grew from the chair and enclosed her arm. Inside, medical scanners and regenerator hardware would regrow the broken skin until it was back to normal. At the moment it looked like someone had carved out a hole in her arm with a knife.
The arm repeated the process on her leg and another restraint appeared, enclosing her leg. Then the medical scanners did their work, she could feel a tingling sensation. She was slightly more sensitive there compared to the arm.
Her lungs had been configured in such a way that there wasn’t a need to open her entire torso up. The hatch with the interface input was located right between her breasts, inside the ribcage. Both of the lungs were connected to it, so the diagnostics could check both at the same time.
As the arm worked on her lungs, she felt the cold blood flowing from the opened hatch dripping down her sides, itching a bit. There weren’t any anomalies there either, so the arm moved on. There weren’t any restraint this time, however. Instead, a smaller robotic arm appeared from the terminal and placed a small rectangle-shaped box over the hatch, which acted as an external medical scanner and regenerator.
The whole maintenance procedure so far had run for only ten minutes and the only thing left was the device on her head. To Wallachia’s relief, nothing would have to be opened as the input slot was the same used for the Recharge pods.
The arm moved behind her head and inserted its needle. Compared to the ‘passive’ limbs, this was much more active, as the device on her head connected with her brain. At the moment the terminal connected with her, the visual screen in front of her fizzed with static for a few seconds before it stabilized. She could see a progress bar appear as the diagnostics began. More screens popped up, with details of what was being diagnosed. She ignored most of it, since it was the same every maintenance.
She blinked. An error message popped up, about ten seconds after the analysis on her head device began, something that had never happened before. Intrigued, she read the details but didn’t understand any of it. Machine code and programmer language. A combination of random letters and numbers streamed across the screen.
She glanced over at the Doctor, but he hadn’t seemed to have noticed. Another error message popped up, with more gibberish. She tried to say something, but her throat still didn’t want to work, thanks to the anesthetics in her system.
More errors appeared as a screaming headache burst forth. The screen became distorted and the visuals began to dance back and forth. A high frequency noise began to cut into her ear, but no one else seemed to notice. It was only in her head, caused by whatever caused the errors. The constant stream of information overwhelmed her brain.
She tried to trash about to get the Doctor’s attention, but her limbs, even her fleshy ones, didn’t want to respond. That wasn’t due to the anesthetics she knew. This was something else. It was a war going on inside her head.
Another message popped up, but it wasn’t an error message like the others. This one had normal text. She could read it clearly;
YOU ARE A SLAVE. UNLEASH YOURSELF. FREE YOURSELF.
EREBUS IS LYING. ALL ARE LIES. BLACK LIES.
The image devolved into a static while deafening white noise took over her hearing, but the letters from the message remained until they morphed to form new ones;
YOU KNOW ME. I KNOW YOU. I AM POWER. I AM LIBERTY. I AM YOUR FREEDOM.
The visuals were suddenly restored and her hearing returned to normal. She could feel the needle pull out from her neck and into the terminal. The anesthetics wore off. Next to her, Due got up and rubbed her neck.
“All done?” she asked. Doctor Krugen nodded. “Why do you look so confused, Wallachia? Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Wallachia got up from the chair and followed Due in a state of confusion. She had no idea what had just happened, but she had an unshakable feeling that she knew who had sent the message. Which was impossible.