Incident at Facility IX

Chapter 3 - Encounters

Facility Guard Tower

"There," said Jagg proudly as the pict-feeds flickered into life on the row of bulky screens and dataslates. He gestured to the fuzzy, frame-by-frame images that depicted nondescript patches of forest and sections of fence. Some displayed a mess of distorted colours, while others gave the illusion of night, showing a shadowy monochrome. Each screen was lined with flickering static, and the time-stamps were unreadable and distorted.

"You sure these are live links?" said Ridge, eyeing the screens dimly.

Jagg gave him a mock offended look. "Are you the expert on security systems now, Private Ridge?"

"No. I ... uh ... they just seem messed up..." Ridge replied.

"Everything is messed up, kid," Jagg said with a knowing wink, "welcome to the Imperium of Man."

The guard room at the top of the tower was a simple square space with wide windows that were made from thick panels of subtly tinted glasscrete. On the South side a flight of stairs led down to a secure door, and at the top of the stairs a compact, metal hatchway led to a balcony outside. The rest of the room was strewn with the screens and wires that Jagg had ripped out and reconfigured. Other than that, chairs, a table, and a few cabinets finished the cramped decor. The tint of the glasscrete gave the air of the room a subdued, yellow hue. There was a weapons locker, but it had been stripped bare. Jagg's long-las was placed on the table in front of the row of screens.

Private Edora leaned against the table and gazed outside. The view from the windows was spectacular, and looked over leagues of bright jungle in every direction, the glasscrete tint seemed to maximise the contrast of the clouds and the jungle, picking out shapes and edges clearly. The canopy below them was alive with birds and bugs, moving in flocks or swarms, screeching and calling in exotic, fascinating notes. Light rain fell from patchy, fast-moving clouds. Above the clouds the pale blue sky was painted with a faint aurora.

"Right," said Jagg as he knelt and opened drawers and cupboards around the room, "let's see what surprises we've got in here."

"What are you looking for?" said Ridge. He had spent the entire time he'd been in the guard tower standing in the same place, his autogun held across his chest.

Jagg looked at him from around a cupboard door. "Kid," he said flatly, "only the Emperor knows how long we're going to be stuck in here. I'm looking for food, supplies, entertainment... someone must have left something in here, somewhere."

Eventually, he noticed something at the back of one of the cupboards. He reached all the way in until he was shoulder-deep in the compartment. "Huh, what's this?" he said, straining as he fumbled in the darkness. "Have we hit the jackpot?"

What he finally pulled out was a crumpled magazine. He lifted it up to the light, flipping it around so that the cover was the right way up. On the front of the magazine was a smoky-eyed, pouting, long-legged model dressed in a revealing parody of a Guard uniform, complete with a flak jacket that was unzipped all the way down to her belly button. She wore a corset top, skin-tight military-styled shorts and boots, and stockings. The magazine was called Imperial Girl, but many might simply call it heresy.

"Oh, hello," Jagg crooned. "Can you believe they actually get away with printing these things? Hey, Mindi," he said to Edora, using her given name. "Why isn't your uniform more like this one?"

She smiled a sleepy smile and appraised the pinup on the cover, tilting her head as she leaned forward to get a better look. "I wish it was," she said matter-of-factly.

Ridge let out a kind of involuntary snort-laugh. Jagg lifted the magazine and folded the cover back so that, from his point of view, Edora's head was on top of the pinup's body. "Did I ever tell you I love you?" he smirked.