★Memorable Author: [El_Roy_1999] And Tomorrow...The World! •22pp•

[El_Roy_1999]

The plane roared above them. Gladys was unsure of what to do. Should she try to shoot it down? She hesitated and the moment was gone. The machine disappeared again. Somehow, she had expected an attack. The driver grinned and said:
"Probably just a crop-duster. Don't worry."
"I doubt that. I'm quite certain that this was a scout."
"A scout? Say, lady, what exactly did you do to warrant all this attention?"
She tried to conceal her feelings and smiled:
"I just need to get to the nearest phone. Quickly!"
"Well, you'll just have to be patient. There's still some road before us, and Bess here isn't one of those fancy Italian cars."
"I can see that."
Gladys tried to stop herself from saying this, but it was too late. The driver gave her an angry look. This would make the trip even more horrible.
After several minutes, he said:
"It's not her fault she's old. Those are hard times. I'd buy a new one if I had this kind of money."
"I'm sorry. This was rude on my part."
He nodded slowly and said:
"Apology accepted. So, what's your name?"
She just wanted to reply, when the earth shook. The driver tried to keep the car under control but couldn't prevent it from swerving close to the ditch. Then, there was a loud explosion ahead. Dust and dirt were thrown in the air. She could hear the whistling of shrapnel. The old man shouted:
"What the hell?"
There was another shiver, then another one. It felt like an entire cavalcade. She turned around in her seat and her mouth fell open.
"What is this?"
Behind them, a large, ten-feet-tall contraption thundered along the road. It was vaguely humanoid, like a bulky suit of armor. It belched flames and fumes and ran at them. In its arm, there was a large cannon and the machine just readied the next shot.
Gladys grabbed the old man and pulled him from the car, running for the ditch.

[El_Roy_1999]

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[El_Roy_1999]

They landed in the dirt, the young woman scrambling to her feet. She picked up the confused old man, put him in a fireman's carry and stumbled away from the enormous monstrosity that tore up the car. The machine extended a pair of metallic arms and with a hydraulic pull, ripped it apart. The screech of bursting metal filled the air. The pilot had clearly failed to see her and continued searching the wreckage.
For Gladys, this was a chance she wasn't going to let pass. She ran as fast as she could and tried to put as much distance as possible between herself and the assailant. Tragically, the area around the country road turned out to be completely flat and largely devoid of vegetation. The sad remains of once fertile farmland offered little to no cover. She was quite certain she wouldn't be able to outrun the apparatus, so she had to find another way to escape.
Having completely dismembered the car, the pilot looked around, trying to locate his prey. He managed to spot them and switched on some loudspeakers on the outer shell of the machine:
"Stop running and put up your hands!"
Gladys ran on, zigzagging to evade the coming attack.
"Stop now! This is your final warning!"
She ran on.
The pilot shrugged and added:
"Your fault."
He hit the pedal and the clumsy engine began stomping after her. Soon, it hit a fast stride and was catching up quickly.

[El_Roy_1999]

What little head start she had quickly melted away as the machine thundered after them, its exhausts belching smoke and fumes. Gladys reached the sad remains of an orchard and hid behind a tree stump. Her back was hurting. She lowered the old man down and made a sign for him to be quiet. He whispered:
"What is this?"
"I don't have the faintest idea. Just be quiet. Maybe it will lose us."
Gladys held her breath. The pursuer staggered around amidst the dry fields. Then, it turned to the rows of blackened stumps. The old man couldn't stop himself:
"What are you going to do?"
"Keep quiet! Can't you feel it?"
"What?"
"The wind is rising."
"The wind? How could this ..."
She took her canteen and splashed some water on a handkerchief.
"You should do the same."
"I understand. It's a dust storm, isn't it?"
"Exactly. And his engine isn't going to like it."
She gripped her submachine gun and waited. The engine approached, its noise filling the air. It blew apart one stump after the other. Gladys could feel the wind in her hair. It tasted sandy.
The pilot, unaware of the change, unearthed another pair of trees and added over his loudspeaker:
"Come on. Don't make this harder! Give up and I'll let you live."
Then, the wind turned into a storm. It was very sudden and utterly unexpected. Within seconds, the sky was dark and roaring particles of dust filled the air. Gladys could hardly see a thing, but she could hear the machine's engine sputter. She nodded to the old man and ran. Climbing up the walker's legs, she forced open the cockpit. The pilot looked up at her, surprised at this sudden counterattack. She lowered her gun at him and hesitated for a second. He scrambled for his gun and she pulled the trigger. A hail of bullets filled the chamber. Ricochets pinged through the hull. She felt a stinging pain in her shoulder and dropped back to the ground. She grunted as she hit the hard, dry soil. Scrambling to her feet, she tried to return to the stump, but by now, the storm was so strong she could hardly see her own hands. Still, she had to get away, so she guessed a direction and crawled away.

[El_Roy_1999]

Days later, Rod finished packing up the remaining crates. It was time to give up. The bank had foreclosed on the farm, which had fed his family for two generations. The last storms had finally ruined him. When the last box was on the carriage, he called for his wife and kids. The half-dozen emerged from the tired walls of the family home and climbed on it. Rod shook the reins and clicked his tongue to get the mare going. He gave the house a last look, then he concentrated on the dusty road. As they were riding along, the children started to fight. He turned around to shout at them and make them shut up:
"What is it? Just shut up!"
One of them said:
"Betty is telling lies!"
"I'm not."
"You are. There's no one there. You're a liar!"
"I'm not. There was someone. Over there."
She pointed to the grayish dust.
"There."
Rod stopped the carriage. He looked in the direction she was pointing. Just some dust.
"There's no one there. Stop telling lies. Jesus doesn't like it when you're telling lies."
"I didn't want to make Jesus unhappy. I just thought I saw someone."
"Let's just go on. We have to reach the town by nightfall and it's still a long drive."
Just as he turned back, Betty shouted again:
"There! There!"
He turned around once again and saw someone. He got up, readying his shotgun. You couldn't be too careful nowadays. He climbed down and walked slowly towards the prone person. The figure barely moved.
He pointed the gun and asked:
"What's up?"
The person rolled on its back and looked at him. It was somehow a woman in dark clothes, her face pale and caked with dust. She seemed to be on the verge of dying.
"Water ... Please ... Water ..."

[solitariodude]

K for keeping at it!

[El_Roy_1999]

The Captain walked in. Gladys struggled to get up, but he made a sign for her to remain sitting. She was still in this wheelchair, not having entirely recovered from her trip through the desert. The Captain stood in front of his troop and said:
"Gentlemen, lady, I am glad to have you back. I am sad about our losses, but I am certain their sacrifice hasn't been in vain. Due to the courage of this unit, we now have a better idea of what we are facing. It won't be easy, but at least, we will be able to prepare. O'Hara's family has been informed of his death. There will be a simple memorial service next week. I trust you will attend it. I am told that Lieutenant Oswald is on the road to recovery, even though it might be that he won't be able to serve anymore."
There was a short pause as they thought of O'Hara. Gladys held back her tears bravely. Eventually, the Captain said:
"Now, let's talk about the information you recovered: First of all, although we haven't been able to identify this Master character, we now know that he spent a lot of time in Asia. The secret service is on the lookout for further clues and will inform us if something comes up. We don't know where he'll strike next, but we've managed to glean some information on planned troop movements. Also, we can now assess their strength. The good news is that their army isn't all that big. The bad news, on the other hand: their technology surpasses ours by decades. Miss van Rothe has brought coded plans that we have managed to understand. We're not able to duplicate their weapons and our conventional small-arms are useless against them unless we're at a serious tactical advantage."
Washington put up his hand.
"Yes?"
"Sir, what are we going to do then? We can't just go around in teams, carting field guns around."
"Actually, the research department has been looking into this. I'll tell you more as soon as it becomes clearer. Anyway, our next step must be to recover and to prepare the next operation. This means that you are to stay in bed and heal. The others will try to keep up. You have a week."

[El_Roy_1999]

Ruth dodged her sparring partner's attack. She bobbed and weaved, evading his clumsy blows. As soon as she saw an opening, she whipped out an assault and slammed her fist into his face. The fighter shook for a moment. Normally, she would have hesitated, but instead, she felt a sudden surge of ecstasy. She grabbed him, threw him to the ground, dropped on top of him and began hammering his face at full speed. Only when her knuckles bled did she stop. She got up, grinning. Looking at her bloodied hands, she told herself she'd have to do more to harden them. Hilde passed her the towel. Her opponent lay on the ground, barely alive. His swollen face was covered in bruises and gashes. The dark-haired woman spat and said to the stunned paramedics:
"Get him to the infirmary." She turned to Hilde: "That's enough training for today. No point in putting an entire squadron in the sick ward."
Hilde nodded. Her methods were working splendidly. A combination of hypnosis, medical therapy and certain, more personal ministrations had begun transforming her "patient"'s way of thinking. She was impressed. She had never expected her to take it so well. On the other hand, maybe it had always been there. Soon, Ruth would be an absolute machine of destruction. She couldn't help smiling at her own genius.

[El_Roy_1999]

One week later, Gladys had recovered. She was still a bit weak and quite skinny, but the wound had healed well. She felt ready to return to active duty. Being out of the wheelchair was incredible. She joined the rest of the unit for the next mission briefing. Clearly, there was something going on.
The Captain explained:
"As far as we can tell, things are heating up. The League of Nations has accepted the new Cuban government and the Master is now in control of the island. There has been some kind of shady deal with our agents and they are preparing to fight off an invasion. We are on order not to act. However, there have been some rumors about the Master's next operation. We are to intervene and stop them."
He looked at the group and asked:
"Yes, Washington?"
"So, what are they up to and how are we going to fight them if they have massive combat machines?"
"As a matter of fact, they seem to aim for South Africa. They want to capture the gold mines there. The secret services suggest that this might be a plan to take control of international trade. Honestly, I don't really care. That's politics."
He stretched:
"I'm sorry. It's been a long night. About the war machines: well, engineering has brought us this."
Two white-coated men wheeled in a table and revealed a large-bore, very heavy rifle.
"They told me that this should be able to put a big dent in our enemy's armor."
Washington asked for permission and came forward to lift it. He struggled. Turning to the scientists, he asked:
"How are we supposed to tote those around in the field?"
One of the scientists gave him a strange look.

[El_Roy_1999]

"Good that you're asking. We're working on something. By the way ..." He turned to the Captain while Washington tried to carry the gun around. "We're going to need a volunteer. Any suggestions?"
Gladys had followed the discussion. She was quite strong, stronger than most women, certainly. Still, she had no idea on how to keep up with her fellow squad mates. Now, carrying this huge gun ... Somehow, this degraded her to second-tier. She had to do something. When she heard the word "volunteer", she was certain all these seasoned veterans would answer the call. After all, they were the elite of the elite. As a result, she stood up and shouted:
"I'm volunteering!", trying to drown them out.
To her surprise, the others had remained quiet. Instead, they all stared at her. Beside her, Yorkow hissed:
"Never volunteer for anything. It gets you killed."
"Oops.", she whispered back.
The scientist, on the other hand, nodded.
"If you insist. Although ... A woman?"
Now she was certain. Whatever she just had volunteered for, she'd do it.

[solitariodude]

I sure hope this goes where it looks like it might

[El_Roy_1999]

The research facilities were housed in the more remote parts of the compound. They were as far away from the limits of the area as possible and well-guarded behind several lines of barbed wire and walls. The buildings were simple barracks, only a few of them were built of concrete. None of this had the elegance of the Master's base. Somehow, Gladys was disappointed. She had expected some weird sciency place, full of strange machines and wires and tubes. Instead, she met several lab-coated gentlemen that spent a lot of time in front of blackboards and test tubes. All of this seemed more like a high school science project. However, the men were quite courteous. The man who had recruited her introduced her.
"This is private van Rothe. She's the one who brought us the coded information. She has also volunteered. Private, this is professor Ibrahimovic. He is the project leader."
The professor, a short, slim man with rimless glasses, a well-trimmed mustache and receding hairline, bowed and said:
"A woman soldier? Why not? We live in a new world."
He took off the glasses and cleaned them on his coat. As he was working, he said:
"There are risks, of course. As in all things in life, you might die. It is also possible to find yourself disfigured, crippled or changed. Are you willing to take this risk? It is your right to say no. We will not hold it against you."
Gladys still stood to attention. She replied:
"I have volunteered. I stand by my word."
"Excellent. Gentlemen, we have our candidate. Doctor Cornelius", he addressed the escort, "will you do the preliminary examinations? We will need the samples to prepare the measures. I suggest we start in three days."
There were words of approval. It slowly dawned to Gladys that she had no idea what she had volunteered for.

[El_Roy_1999]

She soon found herself in her underwear, being measured as if for a fitting. The nurse that did the work was a short, robust woman that was clearly impressed by Gladys' physique. Her comments suggested that she wasn't impressed in a good way, though.
"It's not very womanly, dear. How are you ever going to find a husband, looking like this?"
"Finding a husband is my least concern for now, ma'am."
"But you could be so pretty. You're a little tall, but you have good hips."
"I'm hear to defend my country, ma'am."
"I heard of you. You're that woman soldier. I don't understand. This is not what women were made for."
"We'll see to that. Could you carry on measuring?"
"Yes, of course." She seemed cross. "I just wanted to tell you this. There is no need for you to force this upon yourself."
"I am not 'forcing' this upon myself. Ma'am, with your permission, you are sounding like my dearest mother with whom I had this debate for years. Trust me. If she could not change my mind, neither will you."
"There's no reason to be snappish."
"Is there?"
When the ordeal was finished, she was photographed. Then, the scientists took some samples of her blood and other bodily fluids, neither of which Gladys wanted to think about. They did some tests of her reflexes and senses, repeating the steps she had already gone through during her enlistment.
However, they still hadn't told her what all this was for. She decided to ask first thing in the morning, as soon as she saw Professor Ibrahimovic again.

[El_Roy_1999]

She was woken in the wee hours by the nurse.
"Wake up. Everybody is waiting for you."
She got up, wanted to change to her fatigues but instead found the nurse just hand her a dressing gown. In the end, she was ushered to the main lab very quickly. She was still wearing her nightie and slippers, surprised by the bright light. Also, she only had moments to check on her hair. As a result, it hung messily from her head. She looked around. The scientists were all extremely busy. The nurse urged her on, shoving her to a kind of operating table. Next to it, there was a screen. Machines were humming, the light was glaring and there were weird devices everywhere. The nurse said:
"Go behind the screen. Undress."
She followed her, slipped out of her clothes and soon found herself dressed in one of these surgery gowns that open in the back. The nurse had stuffed her hair into a cap and told her to wait. Outside, people were going through some procedures. She heard some fragments "gland", "electrical stimulation", "hormone". She had no idea what they were talking about.
Eventually, the screen was removed and she was led to the table. More lights flared as she was helped on the slab and laid down. A man in a surgeon's outfit approached and presented himself as Doctor Torrelli. He asked her if she was indeed Gladys van Rothe. She nodded and asked:
"Can I see Professor Ibrahimovic?"
"He'll be there in a second. Have you ever given birth?"
"What kind of a question is that?"
"An important one, I believe. So, have you?"
"No. I haven't."
"Good. How about your menstruation? Is it regular?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Miss, we are trying to prepare this correctly. I suggest you cooperate."
She hesitated:
"It is as I was told by my mother."
"Regular?"
"I guess."
He frowned but left it at that. With a wave, he had one of the assistants jot this down.
"Get the laryngoscope ready."
Confused as she was, she looked for the Professor. He finally appeared and walked to the table. She asked him:
"What is going to happen?"
"You are going to take a step towards greatness."
She barely heard the final words since one of the assistants put an inhalator on her face.
"Count down from ten ..."

[El_Roy_1999]

When she drifted back into consciousness, Gladys felt broken and bruised. She heard fragments of some conversation going on around her. Her throat felt sore. She heard someone say:
"It was a success. Not everything worked perfectly, but the data suggests we might have reached a level previously unknown."
There was some clapping and some slapping of backs. Gladys fell asleep again. Even though she was hurting all over, she felt somewhat satisfied that she had been successful. Somehow, she still wondered what she had been successful at, but for now, the simple satisfaction had to be enough.

When she awoke again, she was hungry. As far as she could remember the lessons her mother had given her, hungry was good. Also, the pain had somewhat subsided. She looked around and saw that she was in a simple bedroom, probably some barracks. Her throat was still sore, but she managed to call for help. Soon, the door opened and the nurse came in. Gladys groaned a little, but accepted her fate.
The woman looked at her and asked:
"How do you feel?"
"I'm sore and tired. Also, I'm hungry."
"I see. I'll bring you something."
She went away. Somehow, Gladys had to admit that the woman wasn't too unlikeable, at least as long as she brought her food.

[El_Roy_1999]

Indeed, as soon as she returned, Gladys couldn't help gorging herself with the warm stew the nurse brought her. After a few starved spoons, she suddenly stopped.
"What is this? This tastes horribly."
The nurse shrugged:
"Doctor's orders. Eat up."
Once again, Gladys' anger at the woman returned. How could someone be so despicable. She sighed, then said:
"Could you please fetch the professor?"
"You expect me to 'fetch' the professor? Listen, young lady, the professor isn't a stick and I'm no dog. I suggest you eat up an start behaving correctly."
Gladys could feel her blood boil. She barely managed to put aside the bowl, overcoming the temptation to just throw it into her face. Instead, she got up against the ever-shriller protests of the woman and wanted to just tell her what she thought when she suddenly realized that there was something seriously skewed with her perspective. Everything seemed to be smaller and further down. She looked down on the ranting nurse and wondered. What had happened? What exactly had the experiment been about?
Time to talk to the professor. She walked out, leaving the protesting woman behind her.