Raiders Read Online Free PDF Page B

walked past the gate and then proceeded into the prison section. A sergeant waved to them from the hall's far end. “Down here guys, we have her in Observation Three.”
    The sergeant escorted them to the observation office. A small window looked into the cell which was about three meters below.. The window was tinted but not mirrored. The prisoner cell resembled a small Pod not unlike the starter Pods that younger people often rented out. There was a couch, a bed, a table, two lamps. Art salvaged from the Old World adorned the walls. They were oil on canvas reproductions, post twenty-fourth century optical realist works.. Gone were the days when a war prisoner was kept inside a gloomy and dismal box of stark concrete and iron. They discovered that captives were more willing to talk if they felt comfortable. It worked better than the torture methods or stress based interrogations used centuries before.
    And there she was. Kama rested on the couch as she stared at a nearby potted tree. She insisted on wearing her primitive battle-wear, an ensemble of leather straps and wraps and metal... Carbonsteel bands interlaced throughout the leather offered an additional level of protection. All told her homegrown clothes covered about ninety percent of her body, even her arms all the way to the wrists. There were a few small open areas to allow for improved range of motion but the critical surfaces were shielded by metal coin shaped plates infused into the leather. The tiny plates formed continuous barriers across her outer legs and forearms, her collarbone and the majority of her ribcage. Her armor was antipodal to the laughable female fantasy armors conjured up by science fiction writers long before for it was completely hand made, battle-worn and of substance. It was real . The girl Raider's armor looked and smelled as a functional battlesuit should, one that was worn in real fights.
    Despite the poorly tailored and utilitarian nature of her garb Kama managed to look vaguely attractive, even through the many folds and layers. Prison workers had to hand launder the wraps since she refused to do so herself, about every third day or so. This was no easy task and the process required a solid quarter of the prison staff to hold her down while they forcibly removed her garments. They offered her regular City clothes but she simply refused to put them on or even acknowledge their existence. To be sure, her leather and metal battlesuit handmade from from the heart of the Great Wastes beyond was a part of her somehow. Maybe it was a religious thing. Possibly they represented to her the one thing that connected her to her tribe now lost to her. Whatever the reason was she would wear no other. Her head was shaven except for a circle of dire blonde strands five centimeters across on the left side. From this patch her hair grew out to about a good meter in length, tightly braided and banded down in dullgrey metallic rings.
    Dr. Palmer offered Aurelia and Julian some whispered insight into the enigmatic guest. “We think she's descended from one of the genetic programs, Russian and Chinese co-operative maybe. The periosteum of her bones for example is thicker than an organic person's. Her nerve conduction times are fast, really fast. I mean she has the peripheral nervous system of an sixteen year old but she is at least thirty, maybe older even. We can’t be sure of course, but all the signs are there. Her tattoos are clearly indicate that she's of the alpha women in her tribe.”
    Aurelia squinted her eyes at the prisoner Raider who remained listless on the couch below. The potted tree maintained its flourish against her stare.. “Well what the fuck was one of their alpha women doing on a scout mission? Doesn’t make any sense, doc,” she said while she shook her head.
    “We really don’t know, but yes that is a good question,” Dr. Palmer responded and then fixed his glasses. “Maybe their inner circle of leaders grew tired of her and