Angels and Warriors

Sarah smiled, and quickly set up camp for them, two tents side by side, and then hid the jeep in the shrubbery. "Morgan... can you point out where the ones after me are?" She had her shades on, the lenses lit up very slightly. She had her pistol on her belt, her tech boots and gloves were on, and her backpack as well, her rocket launcher tube dangling from one side of the backpack. "I need to get more rockets and ammunition, and they're the ones who will have more of that stuff. Besides, supplies and food are good too."

Meanwhile...

"What do you mean you can’t find her?! There’s no way she can hide, much less go out in society with her body! She'd be spotted instantly!" Setar was in a total rage. Not only had his troops gotten hopelessly lost, but were separated, following each other's trails.

"Sir, our last report showed she had managed to make herself presentable in society, and had even managed to suppress most of the base urges that were programmed into her mentality. However, she cannot hide forever, and will need food, as well as companionship. She cannot survive alone."

A young technician ran in. "Sir! We’ve found her! The emergency GPS locator in the jeep was damaged, and is only putting out half the signal, but it’s her! We can send the troops after her now."

Elsewhere...

"Miss, the subject has hooked up with another runaway, but the details about this other person are unknown. The psionic tracker is finished, but there’s a problem. It causes a bit of feedback onto the radios. Nothing serious, but we just have to tell the troops not to worry about it. With the tracker, we can follow the subjects brainwaves straight to her location."

"Excellent. Send the tracker to the units out on search, and give it to them. The sooner we contact the angel, the better."

"Miss, do you think she knows what she is?" Silence reigned supreme for a few moments, then:

"I hope she doesn’t. If she does find out too soon, we may be too late to save her.

Area 53

"Sir, the two escaped subjects have found each other, and are working together. We can send a contingent after them, and they will be ours. Shall I send memos to Setar and Temeras so as to gain control of their facilities”

Yes. Soon we shall have their resources at our disposal, and use their facilities to produce the perfect warrior. The rest of the world shall fall beneath the might of what I shall make.” He chuckled to himself and leaned back, dreaming of a world all his own.

Psionics Labs, Area 54

“Dr. Temeras! The troops located the bug, but apparently it had fallen off or was removed. We believe the escaped subject is with another person, the details aren’t known about her yet. Shall I have the troops fan out to find them?”

“By all means! We need that girl back if this project shall come to fruition. If I don’t show results, we get no funding, and we’re done for. GET HER BACK!!”

South of the clearing....

Sarah crawled thru the underbrush, slowly approaching the troops that had attempted to track her and Morgan. She’d left after adjusting her bra so she could walk without worry and be able to crawl without too much discomfort. She had managed to grab a few bags of provisions and a larger bag to store them in. She'd dumped the contents of her old bag into the large military frame pack and the left hers dangling from the side. She loaded all the food into the pack she could fit into it, and left the seven rockets and the tube dangling from the frame. She scrounged all the ammunition she could carry and was leaving, when she got an idea.

She had grabbed a block of plastic explosive at one point, smiling slightly as she thought of ways in which she could use this particular piece of military tech to reduce Setar to a very, very dead memory. She rigged a ten second fuse to it, wrapped the whole thing in a metal case, pushed the timer button, and hurled the makeshift grenade into the center of the compound, and ran as fast as she could.

Ten seconds later, an explosion and numerous screams were heard, and she smiled, walking back to the encampment she shared with Morgan, feeling happy. One small shot for her, one big-ass setback for the opposition.

Back within the camp, Morgan had already curled up in one of the tents, and was fast asleep. Soft breathing could be heard from within the small structure, and set just outside was her old blue sneakers, socks neatly tucked within. As soon as Sarah entered the clearing, coming within ten feet of Morgan, waves of hunger hit her, along with faint images that tickled the back of her mind. A fleeting image of Sarah from before, seen from Morgan’s view, along with the quick turn of her head as Sarah stretched and got out of the jeep.

What appeared to be a memory of being locked away in a sterile room, asked to determine the identity of persons on the other side of a blank wall, being poked at and prodded with needles. Of being shot at, twice, and nearly injured. Of being allowed to go back home, just one more day, on the condition that she would tell no one... and escaping. Taking a shower, and a small bag of things most dear, and running, running for her life and her sanity and all her ideals.

The images continued, becoming stronger, and Morgan was running blindly through a forest, shots ringing out behind her and the thoughts of others battering her mind relentlessly. She ran faster, faster, until she stumbled and fell. When she stood there was someone behind her - a man with a gun. Confronted by the raised gun, she cried out, and there was an identical cry, an echo to the vision that played itself out in Sarah’s mind, inflicted upon her ears. Within the vision, the man fired, and Morgan raised her arms against it, unable to get up and run once more.

It ended abruptly, before the bullet reached her, cut off as like a kite from string. Freed from the images, quiet sounds reached Sarah’s ears, from within Morgan’s tent. A gasp as she woke from her sleep, rustling as she moved, and one of the most heart-breaking sounds of all - the sound of the young girl sobbing softly, trying not to let anyone hear.

***

“Can you tell me her name again, please?” The reporter’s voice was soothing, deep, a comfort to the grief-stricken mother - or so it seemed to viewers.

“Her name is Morgan Roeske. Please, please! If there’s anyone out there... that... that..” the woman seemed about to break down, but slowly gained control of herself. “..knows anything about where she is, tell the police and get her back to us! We miss her.. so.. much..” She did break down, then, sobbing openly, and the T.V. reporter patted her gently on the back, thankful for his hands-free mike, clipped to his collar. After a moment, he looked up to the audience, gaze quite sorrowful.

“The police are asking viewers to keep an eye out for the missing teen. She’s 5’5’’, slender, with blue eyes and long blonde hair. Police are also asking that anyone who locates her take her into custody as gently as possible, but still to do so; she’s said to have been taking medicine for serious depression, and coming off of that so suddenly could leave her reckless and ready to fight back against rescuers. If you have any information about Morgan, please call the number on the screen as soon as possible.”

The camera focused in on the woman who continued to cry inconsolably, then faded out, replaced by another news report. The small television shut off, prompted by a remote in a small, dark hand. A woman of African origins sat behind an oak desk, placing the remote down and folding her hands slowly. Her hard brown gaze moved from the television on the corner of her desk to the young scientist that sat in the rickety chair in front of her desk.

“Morgan Roeske is the name of the girl that was the main focus of your project.” It was not a question, only a statement, and, not knowing what to say, the man nodded his head, looking even more awkward than his age of just a few years past his teens. A silence fell, and the woman behind her desk let it, allowing it to maintain its hold for a few moments to increase the nervousness of the man before her. When she spoke again, her tone was casual, on another topic, or so it seemed.

“The acting was good. The excuses were good. But she should not have been allowed to escape.”

Gulping, he looked up, failing to meet her angry gaze without flinching.

“We.. ah.. know.. Rest assured that after she’s recovered, it won’t happen again.”

“..and when will she be returned, hm?”

“A-any minute now.”

“I see..” Another pause, another moment of uncomfortable fidgeting for the man who sat on the wrong side of the desk. “You of this project understand, don’t you, that I am one of the main contributors to this project? Oh.. no.. I’m sorry, your other contributor gave up, didn’t they?” Her teeth were white as she grinned, a bright white in a grin that only served to make her target fidget more.. as the remark and the expression combined were intended to. “So I am the sole contributor to this project, and I will thereby not tolerate any delays of this sort. Time is money, and I don’t like my money being wasted. If she is not recovered within a reasonable amount of time, then I will retrieve her myself and employ another group for her study. Am I perfectly clear on this?”

“P-p-perfectly,” he stuttered.

“Good;” the dismissal was obvious, and her voice was smooth. Taking the dismissal like a free ticket out of hell, the scientist stood quickly and fled the office, returning to his preferred domain.

He quickly ran out of the corporate building, the sign on the side of said building read “Logic Technologies- the best thing for the human mind!” Temeras wasn't so sure. he’d been nervous all his life, but the woman upstairs had reduced him to the nervous wreck he was now, she had done so from the moment she started handing his project funding when the feds backed out, believing that it was a dead end.

He had all sorts of great ideas for how this ability could be used, but he realized that Morgan was human, and had flinched every time the scientists on Raicha’s payroll has forced Morgan thru another barrage of tests that only drew her closer to insanity. He'd promised Morgan her freedom, had told her that they would do one more day and then he would take her home, against Raicha’s orders. Morgan had showed ingenuity and had escaped.

When he saw what she was doing and realized she was planning an escape, he simply kept quiet and had let her go. the others hadn't seen what was coming, and so were not prepared when they walked into her room-more like a prison cell with a hospital motif-and saw the room a mess, and Morgan gone. he hadn't known what had happened after that, but had simply thought a long good luck to her as loud as he could and hoped she had heard him while leaving. When Dren-the chief of the security forces under Raisha’s command-had gone out after her, he had again thought a loud warning to her, but he knew that she was too far away for her to hear him. still, he hoped she might have heard it.

Now he knew she was alive. He’d heard rumors of another government experiment runaway. Perhaps they would meet up. He knew there was SOMETHING about Morgan, something in her body almost...inhuman, though whatever it was, it was benevolent, he was sure. The girl’s demeanor told him that much.

He quickly gathered the scientists who still backed him up together, along with the lab security forces who still preferred the slightly insane scientist as a boss to the total power freak who lived in the Logic Technologies building. With all of the people he could trust there, he laid out his idea, and began to plan.

Logic Technologies building

Raisha watched Temeras drive away and smiled. He had been so easy to grasp and control. He’d been a nervous and excitable, and a total idealist (she hadn’t liked any of that) but he was brilliant and weak minded. and he needed money most of all, and so she had him under her heel, and knew he could do nothing.

Still, the fact that that GIRL had escaped without his knowing was unforgivable. he’d have to do some real groveling and take that girl apart piece by piece until they knew what they needed. then she would be able to knock the computer market upside down with her brainchild project- a computer that could think and react like the human mind. fast, powerful, adaptable. after all it was just a child. There were millions of starving ones out there, they could always send a replacement home to Morgan’s REAL parents, who had only gotten a glimpse of their baby before it was whisked away and not seen again.

Somewhere

“Miss, our tracking team has located the Angel girl. They have not made contact yet, we thought it would be wise to wait until nightfall to do so.”

“Excellent. You know of these matters better than I. Do as you see fit. But do not scare the girl away, and DO NOT let her come to harm.”

“As you wish, miss.”

The clearing

Sarah had opened two MRE’s and had heated the small meals over the campfire. She’d managed to make the military issue army food somewhat edible, and smiled to herself as she got up and walked over to Morgan’s tent, from within which a few muffled sobs could be heard, as well as the growl from someone’s stomach.

“Morgan. come on out, dinner’s ready.”

Morgan emerged from the tent, furiously wiping the tears from her eyes, in a vain effort to conceal the fact that she had been crying.

“Hey, its ok, were here, were safe and I'm not letting anyone get you, ok? Now come on, sit down and eat, kiddo.”

Sarah smiled, and sat down, making a face as she bit into what was supposedly a ham and cheese dish of some kind, but what looked and tasted like something... not as good. She sat down by the fire as Sarah offered her some dinner. She took it and forced a smile; she was grateful, just not in the best of moods. She sat in silence, her hands making deft movements to bring the fork to her mouth, not always with food on it.

She was not concentrating on her meal. Instead she watched the flames dance around as her mind was in turmoil. She didn’t want to go back. She would rather die than go back.

She then thought about Sarah. So many questions filled her mind. 'Why would they take a human being and make them just for doing... doing that??' and just the thought of it made her blush again, 'How could someone live their life like that with no other purpose?’ But another part of her knew that Sarah had wanted a different life. ‘Someone would only run away if they didn’t like something.'

She paid more conscious attention to her food and finally made progress. She just wanted to go to sleep and have peaceful dreams, but feared that would never happen. She sighed, finished off the rest of her dinner and smiled softly at Sarah who had finished a while ago.

Sarah had her energy pistol by her side, and ate one-handed, using her other arm to prop herself up, the pistol conveniently close to the hand holding her up. Morgan sat beside her, taking some food of her own and eating it without seeing it or tasting it.

A twig snapped in the underbrush and Sarah flinched, putting her plate down slowly and getting up. She held a finger to her lips, picked up the pistol, and walked off into the woods, pistol in hand. Morgan froze where she sat, putting down her dinner, and waited. A few moments later, a startled yell was heard, and then Sarah’s voice echoed out of the trees, sounding peeved.

She walked back into the clearing, with a man in tow-literally. She had one hand on the back of his collar and was taking advantage of her height, holding him up on his toes. He wasn’t wearing a military uniform or anything, but he looked at Morgan and said something before Sarah hit him once to shut him up.

“Are you Mor-OOOFF!” the last bit was Sarah’s fist connecting with the man’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Area 54

Temeras put his plan into action. a few security guards, loyal to him, would go out to where Morgan had last been reported by Raisha’s scouts. they had packs of food and a spare jeep for the young girl, as well as supplies: a few first aid kits, tents, a couple of sleeping bags, and one new toy they had worked on: a psionic shield. it was a small collar that, when worn, would keep the users thoughts and feeling to themselves. So she could sleep without having her dreams messed with by others.

He had also been working on a psionic tracker, the shield would prevent that from finding her as well. he left a note in the pack with the collar, telling of the tracker and how immensely simple it was, and that someone else might have one, so she should wear the collar so that she could sense others, but they not sense her. The guards took off and would be at Morgan’s location in a few minutes. he only hoped his men would get there before Raisha’s did.

Area 51

“WHAT?!”

“The encampment was mostly destroyed, sir. We have a few troops and weapons left.”

“She has to be nearby! Find her! Use infrared goggles, she’ll show up like a signal flare! FIND HER!!”

The clearing

Things started happening. Sarah still had her green shades on, and luckily was looking in the right direction, at the right time, with the glasses in scan mode. Four or five troops, from Roswell Labs, were huddled together a few meters away from the clearing. Worse, they could see the clearing-and the campfire. Her eyes widened she suddenly realized they weren’t huddling from the cold, they were kneeling, and a soldier who kneels does so for only one reason:

To steady his aim while firing a large weapon. Like an Antitank rocket.

“MORGAN! GET DOWN!” She threw the man to one side and tackled Morgan to the ground, accidentally ending up with Morgan’s face pressed against Sarah’s breasts, due to her height. A rocket whizzed over her head and hit the jeep, and in a small explosion and a shower of sparks flame, and smoke, the jeep, and the food, and first aid kit were obliterated.

The weaponry was still off to one side in the clearing, and she scuttled over to her backpack, picked up the rocket launcher, aimed, and fired. The rocket flew forwards and covered the return distance in no time, the heat-seeking warhead hitting home and reducing the small group of Roswell Labs soldiers to a fine red smear on the landscape. But they were trapped.

The jeep was gone. The food was gone. The medkit was gone. They had tents, but those had been shredded into cheesecloth by the jeep exploding. And she could take out a whole contingent of soldiers on her own, not even with all of the ammo she had scrounged from their camp earlier.

Headlights crested the small hill that led to the clearing, then a second pair, and both pulled up next to the clearing. A group of guards walked out, wearing the uniforms from area 54. Sarah grabbed her pistol and leveled it at them. “Not one step closer until I know who you are.”

Sprawled where Sarah had tackled her to the ground, Morgan sat up slowly, shaking her head. Her hair tumbled, suddenly, from the bun at the back of her head, falling in a spiral down her back, broken hair tie falling to the dirt. The ground had been harder than expected, and she’d knocked her head against it in the wrong sort of way, a tiny trickle of red tracing down from her brow.

“You’re hurt, miss!” One of the younger soldiers exclaimed in surprise, and turned; digging through the pack he carried. Coming up with a medkit, he approached her, and though wary, Morgan let him. The thoughts that emanated from the group said that they meant no harm, and when Sarah raised her pistol higher, Morgan shook her head.

“Why have you come?” she asked as he opened the medkit, tending to the tiny wound on her forehead. The question prompted a flood of thoughts from not only him, but the rest of the soldiers in her group as she had intended. Whether or not one intends to say the answer to a question does not matter - when it is asked, one thinks the answer, and Morgan knew this quite well. The answer to this particular question was that they had been sent, sent to help her. With food, a jeep (even though she couldn’t drive - this almost made her giggle at the absurdness of it), medkit... and something else.