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letterbladePHEWPH. Okay. That was one hell of a scene.
Base Colonel remains as yet unnamed.
I think it's about time to tackle Andrea now. Poor Andrea. Poor screwy, screwy Andrea.
*****
Virginia, Camp Lehigh, winter of 1942
Stella sits on the lab table, cold steel with only a hospital gown on her, and lets her feet dangle as the orderly takes down her vital data. Kicks them back and forth a little.
Josef is prepping injections. Two, three, four of them, clear colors in long syringes, laid out along a table. Pours half a beaker into a glass, mixes it with water. Comes over slowly, holding it with great care.
"Stella," he says softly. "This is crazy."
"I know."
"The process--even if it works, it will be agonizing."
"I know."
"This could kill you."
"Are you going to stop me?"
He bows his head. "No. Because all the preliminary data fits. Because I have no reason not to. And because you asked, and I do not wish to break my word. I can only ask you not to go through with this."
She looks up at him. "I know the risks and I accept them. Please. I want this."
"If it works," he says slowly. "If you become the strongest, fastest woman in the world, what are you going to do?"
"Save the world," she says. "What else?"
He hands her the beaker, watches her drink. It tastes utterly foul. Her stomach rolls.
"Time minus twenty minutes to the ray treatment," he says quietly. "Precisely. It must be timed with the first formula entering her system." He looks up; his three orderlies are watching him, trepidation clear on their faces. "You know the scenario. Go."
Time minus fifteen she's taking a handful of pills, washed down with sips of water. "Not too much," Josef says, hand cautious on her shoulder. "Careful, not too much water."
She nods, tries not to choke. Gets dizzy and lies back on the table. Her vision's blackening around the edges. One of the orderlies is running a thumb down her arm, giving her the first injection; she winces, takes a deep, deep breath, coughs.
"Easy." Josef's standing at the head of the table, close to her. Looks up as one of the orderlies wheels over some great machine. "No, two inches that way. Lock it. Let me set the dials."
"Sir?"
"Just let me. There are parts of this formula I can't even write down, Dobbs, you know that."
Stella looks up at the lights and woozes. Her arm's burning from the injection. "Time minus twelve," Josef murmurs, pointing to another order. "Second injection now."
The second one is a enormous horse needle. The order murmurs, "Sorry, ma'am," and Stella grits her teeth hard as it goes in. Goes a little numb as that one goes through her veins. They're putting monitors on her now, too.
Josef's back by the bed. She's lying very still now; she feels like she's made of rubber, and the room whirls when she so much as turns her head. Josef's hand gentle on the side of her face, just like two nights ago. The third injection goes in, and that just hurts, ache spreading through every muscle in her body, like she'd been beaten all over. She shakes on the table, lets out a long, low wail without even realizing it.
"Stella," Josef murmurs, "you are the bravest woman I've ever met. You can do this."
One of the orderlies is hovering; Stella rolls her eyes without moving her head, sees heavy straps in his hands.
"You'll be convulsing," Josef whispers. "I'm sorry." Waves him off, fastens the restraints himself. They're loose, she thinks, oddly loose; is she going to grow?
"Two minutes." There's a pinching in her arm, must be the last injection. She's cramping head to toe.
"Doctor Reinstein!" Footsteps. The base colonel, she thinks dimly. Pretty sure that's his voice. "I didn't realize you'd found a subject--"
Something being draped over her. A sheet, maybe.
"Good god, man, what are you doing?"
"Testing it." Josef? She'd never heard him that gruff. "You gave me leave to select a subject."
"But--but--that's the Rogers girl--"
"One minute, Doctor."
"One minute. Positions. Warm up the emitter." His hand is still on her face, she thinks. It's one of the few parts of her that isn't hurting more than she thought possible.
"Could you back away, Sir, please--"
"Clear the room--"
"Forty-five seconds--"
"Stella," Josef whispers. "Good luck." He strokes her cheek, carefully eases a bit of rubber between her teeth. She wants to spit it out, can't quite manage it, thinks maybe it's so she doesn't bite her tongue--
"Clear the room, please, Sir, we can't stop the treatment now--"
"I never approved--"
"You gave me leave to test as I will, and I selected a subject, Sir--"
"Thirty seconds--"
Voices get dimmer. She can't tell if they're moving away or just--the sea's roaring in her ears, her heartbeat drumming impossibly fast, and her hands have cramped into fists, nails tearing her palms, back rigid and straining against the straps. Countdown drumming in the distance. Can't open her eyes or the tears will leak out. Screams through teeth clenched so hard she can't move her jaw. And a whine, a terrible, rising whine, higher and higher, winding up to explode.
It's about then that she blacks out from the pain.
She's sort of half awake, then, how much later she doesn't know. Her eyes won't open right; the world spins in two different directions. Sheet pulled off her. Her ears aren't roaring anymore, she's burning from bone to skin, there are still voices--
"Good god, what have you done?"
"The peak of human potential. Just as I had planned. Oh, come, Stella, you can wake now. It's over. It's over, and you made it."
"But--hell and damnation, Doctor. She was so beautiful."
There's an odd pause. A tug at her arm as somebody draws out a needle, puts in a different one. The straps are terribly tight. Rubber gone from her mouth; she just tries to breathe, breathe.
"She still is, Colonel. She is still so beautiful. Can't you tell?"
The time's doing funny things. She thinks of her father, lapsing in and out on the kitchen table with the whiskey. She thinks she's bobbing in the waves at Coney Island.
"--any idea of the resources you've wasted here?"
"It works. The serum's bonded with her cells. For god's sake, Sir, it works. A perfect human being. America shall have her super soldiers."
Her eyes start working, and the light's very bright. Brighter than she remembered. Squints up and blinks and keeps trying to breathe.
"Damn it, man, give the poor woman something for the pain--"
Needle. She barely feels it. Eases her head round, slowly, but the dizziness is gone. The room is very bright, very clear. Her eyes, she thinks, must have gotten better. Peak of human capability. It rushes to her head all at once--it's worked. She's--
Josef's turning, hurrying over with his coat flapping, loosening the straps where they cut into her arms. Tight around muscle, she registers vaguely. Arms as strong as a man's, stronger, maybe. She feels heavy. He's smiling, not the sad, wry smile she's seen before, but something bright. Hopeful.
Somebody says something in German. There's a short, sharp yell--
Deafening crack rings round the walls, and Josef just jolts backwards like a broken doll and slides out of view.
There's just one moment of shock. When she's lying there frozen in place with her head pounding and--
And she's wound up so far she snaps. Throws herself into the chaos.
It's like everybody else is moving through molasses.
She's off the bed before anyone else has even reacted. She's awkward, weighty, sways; the concrete floor is shocking cold; her gown flaps open in the back; somebody else is screaming. "Oh hell, he's dead, he's gonna die, Doctor Reinstein, please--"
The man holding the gun smiles, thin and sharp, and speaks, German, low and sharp. He's still aiming at Josef's crumpled body. Thin trail of smoke from the barrel.
Stella's icy with rage. She winds up like she's been winding up since she was four, following her father around. It feels bigger, she vaguely notices, almost clumsy--but not as clumsy as the rest, they've taken maybe a step towards the murdering Kraut bastard, what are they waiting for?
She lands the right hook, solid as a rock with everything she's got, almost overbalances--and he goes into the wall.
The wall is ten feet away.
He's splayed against it, gun still held loosely in his hand. Chunks of plaster fall from the jagged spiderweb of cracks behind him. He's not moving.
"Oh god," breathes one of the orderlies into the terrible silence. "I didn't even see her move."
She stands and stares, feet planted wide, hands curled in fists she can't quite manage to loosen, and breathes. She aches from head to toe. Feels like she should be fainting, maybe, but she doesn't waver. She's never felt so strong, but she doesn't even care, it doesn't matter, because a good man just died right there next to her--
"His neck's snapped," says another orderly, Dobbs, she thinks. He's bending over the German man. "He was dead on impact." He looks over at her, fear in his plain face. "How strong are you?"
She just looks at him. It doesn't quite register. She doesn't know. She doesn't even know what she is right now. Catches a glimpse of herself in a steel cabinet and starts to realize.
"How long had he been working with you, Dobbs?" the Colonel is barking.
"Six--six months, Sir," Dobbs manages.
"There was a plant on my base for six months." Shoots a glare at Stella. "And now I can't even interrogate him--"
"You couldn't have anyway, Sir," says Dobbs slowly. Pulls out a pill from the dead man's mouth. "Poison capsule. This was a suicide mission."
"Damn." Silence. "Hell and damnation."
Stella looks over at Josef's crumpled body, and it's one of the harder things she's ever done. Like looking at him will make it real. He was a good man.
"He's dead, isn't he?" she asks.
The man at his side just nods. There's blood on his hands. Blood over the white coat.
She goes over, slowly, crouches. Closes his eyes.
"Sir," says Dobbs. "The Doctor, Sir."
"I know about the limited transcription rules," he says heavily. "I instituted them. And now that he's dead--it's gone. Damn it. We lost the super soldier, right before my damn eyes."
Stella takes a deep breath, stands slowly.
"There's still me, Sir."
*****
This post is part of the Fanfiction Frenzy for Planned Parenthood, which is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wired_lizard's outing for Day of Blogs, and has raised $235 so far. Like what you see? Please consider donating!
Base Colonel remains as yet unnamed.
I think it's about time to tackle Andrea now. Poor Andrea. Poor screwy, screwy Andrea.
*****
Virginia, Camp Lehigh, winter of 1942
Stella sits on the lab table, cold steel with only a hospital gown on her, and lets her feet dangle as the orderly takes down her vital data. Kicks them back and forth a little.
Josef is prepping injections. Two, three, four of them, clear colors in long syringes, laid out along a table. Pours half a beaker into a glass, mixes it with water. Comes over slowly, holding it with great care.
"Stella," he says softly. "This is crazy."
"I know."
"The process--even if it works, it will be agonizing."
"I know."
"This could kill you."
"Are you going to stop me?"
He bows his head. "No. Because all the preliminary data fits. Because I have no reason not to. And because you asked, and I do not wish to break my word. I can only ask you not to go through with this."
She looks up at him. "I know the risks and I accept them. Please. I want this."
"If it works," he says slowly. "If you become the strongest, fastest woman in the world, what are you going to do?"
"Save the world," she says. "What else?"
He hands her the beaker, watches her drink. It tastes utterly foul. Her stomach rolls.
"Time minus twenty minutes to the ray treatment," he says quietly. "Precisely. It must be timed with the first formula entering her system." He looks up; his three orderlies are watching him, trepidation clear on their faces. "You know the scenario. Go."
Time minus fifteen she's taking a handful of pills, washed down with sips of water. "Not too much," Josef says, hand cautious on her shoulder. "Careful, not too much water."
She nods, tries not to choke. Gets dizzy and lies back on the table. Her vision's blackening around the edges. One of the orderlies is running a thumb down her arm, giving her the first injection; she winces, takes a deep, deep breath, coughs.
"Easy." Josef's standing at the head of the table, close to her. Looks up as one of the orderlies wheels over some great machine. "No, two inches that way. Lock it. Let me set the dials."
"Sir?"
"Just let me. There are parts of this formula I can't even write down, Dobbs, you know that."
Stella looks up at the lights and woozes. Her arm's burning from the injection. "Time minus twelve," Josef murmurs, pointing to another order. "Second injection now."
The second one is a enormous horse needle. The order murmurs, "Sorry, ma'am," and Stella grits her teeth hard as it goes in. Goes a little numb as that one goes through her veins. They're putting monitors on her now, too.
Josef's back by the bed. She's lying very still now; she feels like she's made of rubber, and the room whirls when she so much as turns her head. Josef's hand gentle on the side of her face, just like two nights ago. The third injection goes in, and that just hurts, ache spreading through every muscle in her body, like she'd been beaten all over. She shakes on the table, lets out a long, low wail without even realizing it.
"Stella," Josef murmurs, "you are the bravest woman I've ever met. You can do this."
One of the orderlies is hovering; Stella rolls her eyes without moving her head, sees heavy straps in his hands.
"You'll be convulsing," Josef whispers. "I'm sorry." Waves him off, fastens the restraints himself. They're loose, she thinks, oddly loose; is she going to grow?
"Two minutes." There's a pinching in her arm, must be the last injection. She's cramping head to toe.
"Doctor Reinstein!" Footsteps. The base colonel, she thinks dimly. Pretty sure that's his voice. "I didn't realize you'd found a subject--"
Something being draped over her. A sheet, maybe.
"Good god, man, what are you doing?"
"Testing it." Josef? She'd never heard him that gruff. "You gave me leave to select a subject."
"But--but--that's the Rogers girl--"
"One minute, Doctor."
"One minute. Positions. Warm up the emitter." His hand is still on her face, she thinks. It's one of the few parts of her that isn't hurting more than she thought possible.
"Could you back away, Sir, please--"
"Clear the room--"
"Forty-five seconds--"
"Stella," Josef whispers. "Good luck." He strokes her cheek, carefully eases a bit of rubber between her teeth. She wants to spit it out, can't quite manage it, thinks maybe it's so she doesn't bite her tongue--
"Clear the room, please, Sir, we can't stop the treatment now--"
"I never approved--"
"You gave me leave to test as I will, and I selected a subject, Sir--"
"Thirty seconds--"
Voices get dimmer. She can't tell if they're moving away or just--the sea's roaring in her ears, her heartbeat drumming impossibly fast, and her hands have cramped into fists, nails tearing her palms, back rigid and straining against the straps. Countdown drumming in the distance. Can't open her eyes or the tears will leak out. Screams through teeth clenched so hard she can't move her jaw. And a whine, a terrible, rising whine, higher and higher, winding up to explode.
It's about then that she blacks out from the pain.
She's sort of half awake, then, how much later she doesn't know. Her eyes won't open right; the world spins in two different directions. Sheet pulled off her. Her ears aren't roaring anymore, she's burning from bone to skin, there are still voices--
"Good god, what have you done?"
"The peak of human potential. Just as I had planned. Oh, come, Stella, you can wake now. It's over. It's over, and you made it."
"But--hell and damnation, Doctor. She was so beautiful."
There's an odd pause. A tug at her arm as somebody draws out a needle, puts in a different one. The straps are terribly tight. Rubber gone from her mouth; she just tries to breathe, breathe.
"She still is, Colonel. She is still so beautiful. Can't you tell?"
The time's doing funny things. She thinks of her father, lapsing in and out on the kitchen table with the whiskey. She thinks she's bobbing in the waves at Coney Island.
"--any idea of the resources you've wasted here?"
"It works. The serum's bonded with her cells. For god's sake, Sir, it works. A perfect human being. America shall have her super soldiers."
Her eyes start working, and the light's very bright. Brighter than she remembered. Squints up and blinks and keeps trying to breathe.
"Damn it, man, give the poor woman something for the pain--"
Needle. She barely feels it. Eases her head round, slowly, but the dizziness is gone. The room is very bright, very clear. Her eyes, she thinks, must have gotten better. Peak of human capability. It rushes to her head all at once--it's worked. She's--
Josef's turning, hurrying over with his coat flapping, loosening the straps where they cut into her arms. Tight around muscle, she registers vaguely. Arms as strong as a man's, stronger, maybe. She feels heavy. He's smiling, not the sad, wry smile she's seen before, but something bright. Hopeful.
Somebody says something in German. There's a short, sharp yell--
Deafening crack rings round the walls, and Josef just jolts backwards like a broken doll and slides out of view.
There's just one moment of shock. When she's lying there frozen in place with her head pounding and--
And she's wound up so far she snaps. Throws herself into the chaos.
It's like everybody else is moving through molasses.
She's off the bed before anyone else has even reacted. She's awkward, weighty, sways; the concrete floor is shocking cold; her gown flaps open in the back; somebody else is screaming. "Oh hell, he's dead, he's gonna die, Doctor Reinstein, please--"
The man holding the gun smiles, thin and sharp, and speaks, German, low and sharp. He's still aiming at Josef's crumpled body. Thin trail of smoke from the barrel.
Stella's icy with rage. She winds up like she's been winding up since she was four, following her father around. It feels bigger, she vaguely notices, almost clumsy--but not as clumsy as the rest, they've taken maybe a step towards the murdering Kraut bastard, what are they waiting for?
She lands the right hook, solid as a rock with everything she's got, almost overbalances--and he goes into the wall.
The wall is ten feet away.
He's splayed against it, gun still held loosely in his hand. Chunks of plaster fall from the jagged spiderweb of cracks behind him. He's not moving.
"Oh god," breathes one of the orderlies into the terrible silence. "I didn't even see her move."
She stands and stares, feet planted wide, hands curled in fists she can't quite manage to loosen, and breathes. She aches from head to toe. Feels like she should be fainting, maybe, but she doesn't waver. She's never felt so strong, but she doesn't even care, it doesn't matter, because a good man just died right there next to her--
"His neck's snapped," says another orderly, Dobbs, she thinks. He's bending over the German man. "He was dead on impact." He looks over at her, fear in his plain face. "How strong are you?"
She just looks at him. It doesn't quite register. She doesn't know. She doesn't even know what she is right now. Catches a glimpse of herself in a steel cabinet and starts to realize.
"How long had he been working with you, Dobbs?" the Colonel is barking.
"Six--six months, Sir," Dobbs manages.
"There was a plant on my base for six months." Shoots a glare at Stella. "And now I can't even interrogate him--"
"You couldn't have anyway, Sir," says Dobbs slowly. Pulls out a pill from the dead man's mouth. "Poison capsule. This was a suicide mission."
"Damn." Silence. "Hell and damnation."
Stella looks over at Josef's crumpled body, and it's one of the harder things she's ever done. Like looking at him will make it real. He was a good man.
"He's dead, isn't he?" she asks.
The man at his side just nods. There's blood on his hands. Blood over the white coat.
She goes over, slowly, crouches. Closes his eyes.
"Sir," says Dobbs. "The Doctor, Sir."
"I know about the limited transcription rules," he says heavily. "I instituted them. And now that he's dead--it's gone. Damn it. We lost the super soldier, right before my damn eyes."
Stella takes a deep breath, stands slowly.
"There's still me, Sir."
*****
This post is part of the Fanfiction Frenzy for Planned Parenthood, which is
wired_lizard's outing for Day of Blogs, and has raised $235 so far. Like what you see? Please consider donating!![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: Jul. 27th, 2008 06:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Jul. 29th, 2008 12:20 am (UTC)And it's not like I could get seduced by geek-gasm--the POV character here has no bloody clue about the technicalities. Which makes it much easier to write. :D
no subject
Date: Jul. 27th, 2008 05:04 pm (UTC)I'm looking forward to beta-ing this story for you.
no subject
Date: Jul. 29th, 2008 12:22 am (UTC)And I'm glad you're looking forward to it. Hopefully it won't be too much of a mess! o.O
no subject
Date: Jul. 28th, 2008 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Jul. 29th, 2008 12:22 am (UTC)