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What were the IMC doing in the outlands? My thoughts were wandering, as a squad, we were exploring the tunnels of Singh Labs. I trawled my hand over the dusty consoles, revealing the glass and display beneath the dust. But nothing actually useful was being shown. Bright red text was flashing up – a message about the IMC’s imminent retreat from the Outlands, ironic as they Bangalore told me, there hasn’t been IMC presence in the Outlands for a number of years now. “Weird how the generator is still active after all these years.” I mutter to myself.
“Hey, uh, Wraith.” I hear Mirage’s phony voice call out from down the corridor. “You might wanna come over and see this.”
“And why might that be Mirage?” I shout back.
“There’s scorch marks in here. And it smells like one of Octane’s barbe- barbe. Outdoor cooking thing with fire.” With a sigh and a shrug, I strut out of the room I was in, and head roughly to where I think Mirage was exploring. I was mostly satisfied that there wasn’t anything that I actually needed in that room.
I noticed that upon entering, the room was roughly the same as the one I had just left. The major difference being the presence of Mirage and Pathfinder, and the smell – there was this lingering aroma of fumes, the consoles look like they were in the process of being destroyed and erased – but it looks like they were unable to finish their job. “Hey friend!” He calls out. Mirage was leaning against a bank of servers. “Mirage here said it’s like a labyrinth down here.” Hopefully, Pathfinder didn’t understand the meaning when a human rolls their eyes, because I’m sure that if I rolled my eyes anymore, they’d sink into my head.
“Yeah Pathfinder, I can tell.” I hadn’t entered the labs, not since I had my void technology thrust upon me by, well, by me. I wasn’t really prepared, to revisit here – and I’m not sure if I am ready now, but I let one too many things slip when drinking at Mirage’s bar one night. And Mirage volunteered to help me.
“Tell me again Wraith, what exactly did you drag me here for.” Mirage asked, well it was less him asking and more stating why he was here, pushing himself back up from where he was leaning. “What are we looking for?”
Truth be told, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure what the Wraith project even was, apart from me. Was the set of experiments performed on the alternate version of me called the Wraith Project. “Something, anything about me.” I hadn’t told them about the alternate me that saved me. As far I cared, they didn’t need to know. In an attempt to clarify things I changed my wording. “In fact, scratch that. Anything listed as ‘Wraith’.”
In response, I get a confused look from Mirage. “Apologies Wraith, but you’ve just said the same thing twice.” Mirage says. By the time he had said this, I was already examining a set of busted, bruised and bashed up metal lockers on the other side of the room, I turn my head and glance daggers toward him, hoping that he’d get the hint. “Ah well, whatever you say.” It seems that Mirage knows better than to question me. Good to know.
“Path. See if there’s anything you can interface with, you know like the IMC’s survey beacons.” His chest monitor turned a shade of blue and where there would usually be a face was just a question mark.
It took 5 minutes maybe slightly more until I found something. Hidden, tucked away in a draw under a stack of papers, all stamped confidential, and a smaller stamp was haphazardly placed in the top right ‘filed for destruction’. It was a small PDA device, not unlike the accelerants that the syndicate allow us to use in the games. However, this was nowhere near as damaged or scarred as the ones that are used in the games. It was neatly secured in a black plastic bag – whoever put it here didn’t want people to find it. Then the link clicked neatly in my head. The smell of fumes, it’s some sort of fuel – and the scorch marks are from a burn. The IMC, or someone more recent wanted to destroy the evidence. In effect, they wanted to destroy me. My composure slunk slightly.
“Find anything yet?” Mirage called out to me.
As an alert reaction, I snapped back. “Uh, oh-er nothing yet.” I replied.
“Okay, Path and I are gonna go search some other rooms. No reason for all three of us to be in this same room.”
I nodded and watched silently as they left the room. I wonder if he knew – probably, I wasn’t the most subtle just then. I waited until they left the room. I sat down, with my back resting up against the desk. On the right-hand side of the PDA was a tactile hard plastic switch – it was an audio diary, next to the switch, in bold green letters was the word “Play”. Gripping the device like an accelerant, I pulled down the switch. Flooding out was a voice. My voice.
“Senior Science Pilot Renee Blasey, First report.
The grant to test our new Phase Shift tech has been approved by the IMC’s ARES Divison. My colleague, Dr. Singh, has his suspicions about them. But honestly all I care about is whether or not it’s true. That our dimension is not the only one. Now we just need some volunteers. Or I’ll have to do this thing myself. There are a lot of roads out there, who knows where they lead.
Project Wraith, active.”
I swallow hard, every single word that played out of the device cut a wound – no. The first sentence, my name, cut a wound every word since was like applying saltwater to it. The words stung, they cut through me. I listened to it again, and again. Soon I knew the words of the log off by heart. I was angry. I was upset. Was Singh the person that the other version of me wanted to kill? But he was my colleague. Why would he do any of that. Did I lose my memory during the Wraith Project?
I was confused, angry, upset. I was truly a whirlwind of emotions. In my hand I clutched the PDA and in a flash I threw it across the room. There was a clattering of smashing glass as it collided with one of the monitors across from me. No doubt the others have been alerted at this point – but it didn’t matter to me. I had heard all I needed for now. I pulled my legs up to my chest and tugged my scarf up to hide my face slightly. It was about now when Path and Mirage barged into the room. “Wraith, you okay?” Mirage asks as he steps to me. “I mean I can see that you’re not. But like you do wanna talk about it?” I look up at them with tears welling in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry – It’s not like me at all to cry, but right now I didn’t understand anything. All I knew myself to be, the fighter, perfect flanker – was this really me.
“My emotive sensors detect that you’re sad.” Path quips, his monitor changes from the question mark that it was earlier into a blue sad face.
“Uh yeah, Path. Now’s not the time.” He replies with a weak punch to Pathfinder’s arm. “We’ll meet you back at the dropship.” I nodded. And watched them walk out the door. Moments later, I heard the goliath doors that are used as the entrance to labs open and then close again.
The PDA was still emitting this harsh static, it seemed to echo around the room before bursting back to life.
“Senior Science Pilot Renee Blasey, Sixth Report.
My colleague, Amer Singh hasn’t had any volunteers for the wraith project – development has seemed to stall entirely now. Especially with the brass at the top siphoning away more and more resources to help us in the Frontier War. We need to find a volunteer by the end of the week, or else – I’m going to have to do it.
Signing off.”
I. I mean, she really did it. Which means for me to be here, I would’ve signed up as well.
I never really noticed it until now but there was a clock ticking away in the background, and I zoned out to it. The melodic, even timing of the clicks and the slow hum of equipment that should’ve been turned off and destroyed long, long ago. “You should go, you’re not safe here.” I was yoinked from my thoughts and brought back by the voices from the void. And I had spent enough time with the other me’s to know that they’re probably correct. I stared at the PDA. One part of me knew that I probably shouldn’t take it with me. But on the other hand, I knew that I’d be better with it. I picked it up. Its display was now cracked and one of the edges were bashed in slightly. I tucked it into my pocket and followed in the footsteps of Pathfinder and Mirage.
The dropship back was uneventful. I made eye-contact with Mirage as soon I stepped onto the dropship. But nothing was said between any of us. I need to get to Wattson.
Knocking on Wattson’s door, as soon as it opens. I instantly hand her the metaphorical ‘smoking gun’. “I can wait outside, please listen to it.” I plead with her. She closes the door. It closed shut with a gentle slam. I lean against the wall of the corridor, twiddling my thumbs. Truth be told, as close as I am to Mirage and Pathfinder, they never wouldn’t really understand – however Wattson had a way with people. She was able to see right through them. I mouthed the words of the first part of the tape on the PDA. I brought one of my hands out infront of my face and flexed each of my finger muscles. I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore. I felt like Wraith – but who was Renee Blasey – this person that I used to be – that I don’t even know anything about.
Wattson’s door opened with a slight squeak, but my mind didn’t register that it had opened. Not until she spoke “Renee Blasey?” She teased slightly. My head turned and I blushed slightly.
“You. You heard all of it?” I asked tentatively.
“Oui.” She responds. “Come on in. You look a mess.”
I nodded and followed her in, closing the door gently behind me. I moved to the tattered couch that she has, and sat down on it, trying to make myself as small as possible as to try and not impose on her room.
Her head popped out from round the corner. “Tea or Coffee?”
“Coffee. Black.” I responded coldly; it had become a force of habit from the time I had spent with Mirage where he’d ask me similar questions. Moments later she came around the corner from the kitchen holding Nessie shaped mugs. She sat next to me, it looked like she had hot chocolate in her mug, along with a small blanket of marshmallow’s covering the hot liquid beneath.
We didn’t say a whole lot as we each sipped away at our drinks. But I was the one who pierced the conversation. “Did you hear all of it?”
“Oui.”
“Even the end of it? With how I volunteered?”
She nodded. “I think it’s very brave of you. To volunteer when people need you – perhaps it was a little-shortsighted but there’s nothing wrong with that.” She beamed a warm smile at me. God this is why have Wattson as a friend.
“I don’t even remember her, Renee that is. They made me a weapon.” I exclaimed, the tears back in my eyes. “That man. Singh. My colleague – he stole so much from me, what hurts is that I don’t remember what he took from me.”
Wattson put her pinky finger to my forehead and pushed aside some loose trailing hair. “Wait here.” She said quietly. I watched as she got up and walked over to a shelf, she picked up a photo and brought it back to me. “Here. Our first game we won together.” It was a photo of us and Mirage. “We can make new memories.” I looked up at her. Her smile was thin and endearing. Hope, that was the first word that came to mind. “You’re not a weapon.”