Then, they sent me to Forward Operating Base Delta.
For six months, I played the part of the annoying, overly-diligent logistics clerk. I questioned Vance's orders. I audited his supply chains. I made sure he knew I was looking into him, but I always kept just enough distance to avoid getting court-martialed. I was driving him insane.
I was the bait. And today in the mess hall, Vance had finally bitten.
Sitting in the bunker, reflecting on the agony of the past two years, the pain in my face was nothing. It was vindication. It was victory.
"You're lying," Vance breathed, taking a step back. His confidence was fracturing, replaced by a creeping, cold dread. "That's impossible. Technology like that doesn't exist."
"It does now," I replied, the smile unwavering. "And you triggered it, Major. When you slammed my head into that steel table, you generated exactly 1,200 Newtons of force. More than enough to shatter the ceramic casing protecting the relay."
I shifted my jaw. The torn synthetic skin parted further, revealing the intricate, glowing machinery beneath.
"Right now," I continued, my voice taking on a synthetic, echoing quality as the internal hardware hummed, "the Aegis relay is processing the data it siphoned from your personal, air-gapped terminal located just two floors above us. The blast radius of the siphon easily reached your office."
Vance lunged forward, grabbing my collar again. "Stop it! Stop the upload!"
"I can't," I laughed. "That's the beauty of it. It's fully automated. It requires no input from me. You initiated the sequence, Major. You literally beat your own confession out of me."
Vance threw me backward. The heavy steel chair scraped loudly against the concrete floor. He was panicking now. The composed, terrifying tyrant who ruled the base was evaporating, replaced by a desperate, trapped animal.
He ran to the door, pounding on it. "Miller! Graves! Get in here!"
The door swung open, and the two thugs stepped inside, looking confused.
"Sir?" Miller asked, his eyes darting between Vance and my glowing, metallic face.
"Get a jammer!" Vance screamed, spit flying from his lips. "Get every signal jammer we have on this base and bring them down here now! Cut the hardlines! Shut down the primary power grid!"
"Sir, if we shut down the grid, the perimeter defenses will fail," Graves protested, his face pale.
"Do it!" Vance roared, drawing his sidearm and pointing it at Graves' chest. "That's a direct order! He's transmitting classified data to Command! If that data gets out, we're all going to Leavenworth to face a firing squad!"
The two soldiers scrambled out of the room, slamming the heavy iron door behind them.
Vance turned back to me. His chest was heaving. He leveled the pistol at my head.
"If I blow your brains out right now, the transmission stops," he reasoned, though his hand was shaking. "The hardware is tied to your nervous system. You die, it dies."
I looked at the barrel of the gun. "You're right. It is tied to my nervous system. But you're forgetting one crucial detail, Major."
"What's that?" he sneered.
"The data is already gone."