Adventures of Jamie F, Ch. 01

(Author's note: As the following is my original creative work, it is copyrighted and illegal copying is strictly prohibited. Any coincidence therein to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. For legal purposes, this work is a parody of the science fiction genre. Expect explicit sexual content, if this offends you or if you are underage if your country of residence please do not continue reading.

Enjoy the story =D )

Cold.

That single word burned and blared in my mind as my eyes burst open to the cruel sting of freezing fluid. I sat up, gasping for breath, frantic limbs reaching out for some hold on reality, quickly finding the edges of my sleeping pod and then achingly pulling me out. A blur figure greets me silently with a towel, gruffly swiping the moisture off me, then wrapping the fluffy fabric around my nakedness.

I shook myself to my senses, eager to regain my bearings. A lone flickering lamp hung wanly from the ceiling, reinforced to withstand bomb shock with somber metallic gray bars, as were the walls. All around, transparent man-sized capsules lay untenanted, splatters of dried cryogenic fluid marking the departure of the frozen. My only current companion was completely unidentifiable, obscured from head to toe in a cowled, dirt-specked brown robe.

"I was frozen? What-"

"Please, dress yourself with a robe from that locker and proceed along the only exit. Your answers await at the end."

I nodded curtly, quickly donning a robe, much like the other's, but a pristine white. Walking out alone as directed, I considered only the most obvious knowledge: that a cataclysmic event had come to past, and as an individual of special worth, I had been preserved as part of a project to preserve humanity. Before any stray thoughts could wander by I had reached an amphitheater of sorts, monotonously wallpapered with the same gray metal, but sporting a small stage occupied by a lone bald fellow in a black robe. His eyes met mine sternly, as if I had kept him waiting.

"Peace. The last of our settlement has arrived." The chatter rife among seats filled with white-robed men and women, weighing the unknown prospects of a dark new world, extinguished like a candle to the wind. I took an empty seat.

"For the benefit of the latecomer - I am Sky Captain Fred Monteiro, the commander of this, settlement 15A. I present the warrant of duty-" he paused to place a certificate on the scanning interface of a projector that immediately beamed it up onto the movie- style screen behind him. Officiously adorned with a tattered blue ribbon and the Governor-General's stamp, the document named him as said commander. "My word is law, a law enforced by a platoon of enforcers who are among us in this chamber. They know their duty and will carry it out without hesitation. Quench any flimsy criminal thoughts now." He paused again for his gruff, grating words to sink in.

"Now, this video prepared by the Department of National Emergency just prior to our transport here and freezing will explain everything. Watch and know."

The certificate was replaced by the green flag of Archine, emblazoned with a bald eagle gripping a wand and robotic forearm in its talons, and then the crest of the Governor-General.

"Good day, noble citizens. I am Gov. Gen. Morrigan." His was the face of an old soldier, lined with wrinkles and scars alike. He wore the common soldier's greens, albeit bedecked with medals and ribbons on his proud chest. "As you may have surmised by now, a terrible mishap has occurred. By the time you hear these words, the cause will be irrelevant - in fact, they are best forgotten. What matters is that you survive and prosper to keep humanity's-"

The screen trembled as if the ground was shaking then, and the general looked aside to an invisible aide, his furrowed brown brow knit with frustration, but his eyes as clear as day. Quickly he spoke on. "Your priority is to survive and prosper. You have already met your group commander, he has been briefed on situation control and will be the highest authority you can refer to. I have personally met with each and every group commander-"

Another forced silence - behind the general portraits of himself and his wife shook and shuddered before falling to the ground with the crunch of broken glass. "He or she is a soldier of stoic character and will lead you wisely. Trust him as I did, as you trusted me before, for he will lead you-"

Another tremor, a bright orange flash - and then nothing. The Sky Captain took center stage again.

"Hear me: I know the video raises more questions than it answers, but pray give me your trust, and do as I ask. As I was briefed, today all we need think about, the only thing: is getting used to our new living environment. This settlement has individual apartments for each of us, as well as place for work and play. Now, this-" He flashed another paper onto the screen with ordered passport photos, pointing to one, "Assuming you are Jonathan Friedman, you will recognize your own picture. As stated directly below, good Jonathan is designated cluster three, apartment five." The letters beneath his photo read DES: 3-15. "Now, when you see your photo and designation appear, approach one of my ushers at the doorways beside the stage. They will direct you."

This mechanical sorting proceeded uneventfully enough, and halfway along I spotted myself: a gentle blonde lady, quiet blue eyes with a slight smile. I made my way down to an usher, along the way feeling more than seeing the curious eyes that followed - real or imagined, I was simply used to it. Robed in brown like the first person I'd met, the usher directed me down the other doorway beside the stage, winding through the corridors and signs till I'd reached my 'designation': cluster one.

As always the walls were built for bomb-stress, but my new abode looked pleasantly homely. A twinkling chandelier, intricate carpet, a number of computer terminals, a wide screen TV and a fireplace with plush crimson couches made a cozy living room, from which the individual apartments branched off down small corridors.

"Bit of a tight spot we're in, eh," chirped a raven-haired man beside me, his wavy locks stylishly slicked.

"Certainly is. I wonder what year it is." I replied off-hand.

"That's a good question. Could be anything from a hundred to a thousand, depending on what the guys on top thought at the time they froze us. Really wrecks the memory. I'm Michael, by the way. Mike will do."

"I'm Jamie, nice to meet you." I smiled perfunctorily and shook his hand. He squeezed and felt a little more than was polite; I made a small mental note.

"Everyone, before we carry on mingling and getting settled in, I'm afraid there's the little issue of my cluster briefing," a slightly diminutive fellow in green army uniform with a broad toned chest and a voice to match, stepped out before the fireplace, "I'm Lieutenant Rodrigues, your arbitrary Cluster commander. If aliens burst through the ceiling, I'm the one who calls the shots, but informally, I'd rather you all think of me as just the messenger. Ain't no tightass like Monteiro. I've known the guy since we were in the academy, and he is tight." A few ruffled chuckles. "Now, let me start my briefing proper. Please listen carefully." He cleared his throat.

"As members of Cluster one, you are responsible for exploring the unprotected world above, with the aim of gathering resources, material or information, that will boost chances of reclaiming and resettling of land above, and eventually re-propagation of human civilization. Each and every one of you has your own apartment, which will contain individual-specific equipment and notes for your vocation in this cluster. I need to stress this: that your vocation is mandatory; there is no avenue to pursue for re-vocation. Non-compliance is punishable by the Settlement Comd's security. Within our cluster, we know each other's job, naturally, but under no circumstances are we allowed to discuss our work with members of other clusters. Again, punishable by Sett. Comd."

"Your Cluster commander, yours truly, is the highest authority within the cluster. His word is law. He will appoint a Cluster second-in-charge to assist in command decisions and to take over command in the event of his incapacity. His task is to coordinate your operations and liaise with the Settlement Commander. Now that you've all got that, you will learn about your new job. Try to learn and get used to your equipment before dinner, then we can get to know each other over a warm meal. My apartment is number one, if any of you guys need me, and your apartment is unlocked biometrically. Retina scan. Any questions?"

"Yes, I do." A raised hand, and a tall well-built black man speaks out, "What exactly is the punishment for the non-compliance as mentioned earlier?"

"Well, I was hoping I wouldn't have to say it out loud." He paused, "Understand that despite the material comforts around us, we are the sole survivors of a catastrophic global event. We live in harsh, fragile times, in our own little hole, so there's really no margin for internal violence and dissent." He paused to look each of us in the eye.

"Death. The penalty is death."

He turned away and slipped into his apartment. Surrounded by strangers, the rest of us disappeared into our own cocoons.

The room looked satisfactory. A bright central ceiling light as well as bedside reading lights, a personal computer and work desk, a smaller but generous telly, and a soft king-sized bed. Smirk. Well, there would certainly be occasion for a companion in time to come. I found a pleasant surprise in my locker: my own clothes were all there. Happily I shed that drab robe and appraised myself in the mirror for a while. One might imagine hundreds of years asleep wouldn't do much for muscle tone, but cryogenic fluid not only provided nutrients but stimulants to keep muscle fibers active just enough to keep them in shape. Otherwise we'd all still be lying or squirming pathetically in our sleep pods. It was nice to see all my work at the gym was still there - my arms were toned for endurance, not bulky, brute male strength, although I had pumped my quads and gluts with considerable weight, but then again it was quite alright for a girl to have 'critical mass' there. They looked as strong, supple and shapely as ever.

One part of myself I'd never liked were my breasts though. I suppose a C cup is moderate by just about anyone's standards, but I'd always wished I was a B. I fashioned myself an active, outdoorsy girl, and a B wouldn't get in the way of work and play that much.

Speaking of work - it was time to just stop dawdling and get down to it. Can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of reading, be it old paper-bound books or on a comp. I just wasn't much of an academic. Still, a girl's gotta do... I powered my comp up, and it prompted me to enter some routine personal details, set a terminal password, and then more of the same with the various applications. Clicking on the file 'FirstBriefing.exe' on the desktop launched a full-screen menu with an Archinian flag wavering to some invisible wind. That wan emblem of a long extinguished nation invoked faint memories of my own service in a national agency: flashing my badge at a roadblock, firing my handgun at a range, at a warehouse shootout, taking photos with the other graduate girls at the academy - was I a police officer? Detective? Try as I might the memories flickered and faded. It seemed terrible, to flush a lifetime of memories down a sleeping pod.

Dammit, stop daydreaming and get back to work. Sheesh. I clicked on Introduction. I saw myself on-screen, suited up in a quiet office.

"This is my National Emergency self-brief," the on-screen version of myself looked away for a moment, smiled awkwardly, and before I could tell her to just get on with it, she spoke on. "I am Jamie Fenning, Special Investigations agent of the National Information Agency. As of today, 18th August 2156, my vocation involves engaging in sensitive investigations of a national level. I am trained in unarmed and small-arms combat, various information-gathering devices, disguises and assimilation. I'm also rather persuasive." That elicited a chuckle from the cameraman, I smiled slyly, and the video cut. So, I am a spy of sorts. The briefing brought up a one-page Agency (NIA) profile, which I read with curious scrutiny like a prospective employer, eager to recoup all to be known about myself.

* * *

Personal details

Name: Jamie Elaine Fenning Retina Registration: CB301480Z Gender: Female Caste: Midborn Ethnicity: Caucasian Marital Status: Single Religion: NA Height: 5"7' Hair: Blonde Blood Group: B+ DOB: 08.10.30 DOE: 01.01.51

Education/Work Background

Pre-enlistment education: High School Graduate Pre-enlistment employment: Navy Pilot (revocate NIA via MilTransit/Top-up scheme) Agency Reasoning Tests Aggregate: 15th %tile (Annex E1 thru E5) Agency Physical Tests Aggregate: 3rd %tile (Annex E6 thru E9) Agency Vocation Tests Aggregate: 1st %tile (Annex E10 thru E18)

NIA Notable Achievements

Best Trainee, intake 2150/2151 Exposed Carravaggio Cartel, 2153 Agent of the Year, 2153

Justifications

Agent Fenning has shown all-round superb performance both in fieldwork and case analysis. Her aptitude was first seen in her winning Best Trainee, no mean feat for a lady in a field including over 100 men. In 2153 she exposed the Carravaggio Cartel in a widely publicized crackdown on John Carravaggio's underground drug and human trafficking cartel, which earned her nationwide respect and the Governor-General Medal of Honor. She boasts a case resolution average of .63 which is among the very highest in the Agency.

For the qualities outlined above I strongly recommend she be considered as the NIA representative for Project Stalwart.

Signed, Director, NIA Ernest Bradshaw

* * *

Ernest Bradshaw, John Carravaggio - it was disconcerting to find myself having no recollection whatsoever. Well, at least they're all long gone by now. Clicking on, I proceeded to the next section, 'Vocation'. Like my short personal profile, it was in plain text.

* * *

Dear (Jamie Elaine Fenning)

In these uncertain times, based on your employment history, you have been allocated the occupation of (GHOST). You will be in charge of various (CLANDESTINE OPERATIONS), which will involve (infiltrating any non-Archinian human/cyborg settlements, gathering intel, secret sensitive missions, etc.).

In this task, you have (TWO) partners who will assist you and take over in the unfortunate event of your incapacity, namely (Jerome Smith, blonde caucasian male 6'3" AND Lana Samuel, black female 6'0"). They will be, in time to come, your closest friends and allies in times of need. Get to know and trust them well.

In the following chapters of this introductory-cum-refresher program, you will be re-acquainted with the core skill sets vital to your occupation. You have a total of (FOURTEEN) modules to study.

***

Well, 'Ghost' seems like an overly dramatic name, and it wouldn't take a genius to infer what sort of work I did. Jerome Smith sounded more familiar than the others. From the mist of mute memories emerged a tall, slender, blonde guy, nimble and quick on his feet - a quirkily singsong laugh. Lana Samuel - that name sparked excited thoughts: an attractive sharp-featured black girl with stark curves to match, my hand stroking her sweet smooth locks, her tangy parfum, my nose brushing against hers, her soft breath on my neck-

Damn. That came out of nowhere. With my mind off the monitor I could feel my heart thumping a wild beat - to the tango of forbidden passions? Now that I thought about it, I was certain of my own experiences with both sides of the coin, even with both guys and girls at once, and those memories shone brightly through the fog, like lewd, garish neon lights. It was nice to know I had a special someone, and she was in this new world as well. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to see her again, rediscover her incredible Nubian beauty, hold her hand in mine, soft-

The monitor blacked out abruptly, as if protesting my neglect, and then the stern countenance of Captain Fred Monteiro, the 'Sett. Comd.' flashed on. He looked to be occupying his own apartment at the moment, much like my own. "Ladies and gentlemen, I hope your introductions are going well. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I do have an important announcement. After discussion and planning with your cluster commanders, I have decided that the following clusters will be involved in external missions outside this settlement tomorrow: Clusters One, Five, Six and Thirteen. These missions are not randomly scheduled; they are urgent and important. As such your studies have greater urgency, and I urge you to put in extra effort. Oh, and lunch is served at one-two-zero-zero hours sharp. Transmission over." He tapped his keyboard, and then he blacked out - and almost immediately reappeared.

"Ah, miss... Jamie Fenning. How are your studies coming along?" I was stunned for a moment. Did I know him before?

"Just fine. Sir."

"Well..." He allowed himself a wry smirk, "I just thought you might like to know that of all the settlers at their terminals, you're the only one in the buff. Well, the only one worth looking at. There's one other old guy." I bit my lip, shocked one second and then hastily composed the next.

"I didn't know the apartments were being surveiled, Sir. I apologize for my attire. This won't happen again." Even as I spoke I cursed myself. Stupid stupid STUPID. Of course they could bug the place, why did you assume?

"Actually, it's not a hidden surveillance cam. It's just at the bottom of your monitor, just above the volume roller, see?" His hand reached out and then his image was obscured by a magnified thumb passing across his lens. "You just have to cover it up. And you should. Don't want to expose yourself to anyone chatting with you."

"...Or do you?" He smiled, a polite, slight, slighting smile, and then was over and out. Immediately I rummaged around lockers and stoppered the lens with a blob of blu-tac. What's done is done - but it wasn't good to know your most senior commander had come to take personal notice of you in day one 'cos you bared your chest to him. Well, at least you didn't get flustered, and he had the decency to tell you. I sighed, and then clicked on to the first of my 'Learning modules': Espionage Fundamentals.

Pressing on past Post-Emergency Situations, Stealth and Assimililation, I'd reached a morbidly intriguing section on the use of laser shotguns when a perky 'ding-dong!' heralded a small pop-up at the bottom right corner: "Lana Samuel seeks comm-link. Accept / Decline?" Just when I was about to click to accept I realized that my cam was blocked. Because I wanted to be naked. Sure we might've been close before but she might not remember. Hopping out of my seat I flipped through my wardrobe. Something casual, something cute. Suits, blazers, work shirts, tees, tank top - tank top it is. I slipped it on, noting with some satisfaction that it fit my assets quite snugly. I peeled the blu-tac off and clicked on accept - well, almost. The pop-up was gone. Damn, I must've taken too long.

The digital clock on the tabletop read 11:34. Sixteen minutes to lunch, to meeting Lana again. I slipped on a denim jacket and baggy cargo shorts. I know, so tomboyish, but I didn't fancy complete strangers eyeballing my long legs. Especially not that creepy guy earlier. Besides, they were comfy. I scanned through the last of Basic Small Arms and then popped out to check on lunch.

The dining room was past the living room, between the fireplace and the kitchen. A simple mahogany oval table dominated the space, with matching chairs. A bespectacled teen was my only companion, and he was busy wiping considerable dust off the furniture with a moist washcloth, oblivious to my arrival. I was fifteen minutes early.