The Director's Office.

The Lieutenant’s eyes dropped to the ubiquitous pocket watch on Greegon’s desk. Brightly polished steel, topped with the red enamel and yellow gold insignia of the KGB -an origination that had been dead at least 60 years. A strange ornament, but somehow Lt. Volk could see the two meter tall director of combined arms as a man who would - enjoy - interrogations.

“My office is not a museum. What is your business here?”

“I’m here to brief you about project VICAT - Vitality Induced Commando/Assault Trooper.”

“Her of course.” Greegon motioned to the woman standing in the far corner of the room to the left of the door. Volk hadn’t noticed her - she was still as a rock, quiet as death - didn’t even seem to breath. Large silvered wrap around goggles obscured her eyes and much of her face, and the submachine-gun she held hid her breasts, but otherwise the medium height and dark haired woman wasn’t too hard on the eyes.

“Uh.. yes sir. Yes. Indeed. The reanimate soldat is capable of varying its cellular mitosis rate through the use of microscopic machines - allowing it to change between near stasis - requiring next to no food for extended missions, to a rate of muscle function that allows her to exceed 50 kph running for five minutes. The rods and cones of the eyes have been substantially enhanced until it is able to see details clearly in only 35% of the light a normal human would require…”

“Can you tell me something I don’t know? I read the report. I know that Vykat’s father. He was Captain Vo Lap of the destroyer Iron Bird in the People’s Republic of Vietnam Navy. She studied Vo Binh Dinh since the age of five.”

“I could put together a computer presentation of the other stuff, but I didn’t realize it - she - had any biographic information. I was under the impression they were grown like cloned limbs.”

“A slide show is hardly what we need. Given the projects nature we should make the data less accessible not more. You agree - of course.”

“Yes. The situation will be rectify..”

“Vykat can do that.”

“How? I didn’t think something that didn’t breath could talk.”

“She can. You can’t.”

The woman crossed the large office with a speed and acceleration normally reserved for wild cats and expensive cars. Blades with edges only three molecules thick extended out of her fingertips, and plunged into Volk’s back just above the eighth vertebrae. She pulled up until she reached the second, cupped her digits slightly, and the arm titled to the left. In one deft movement, the junior officer’s head came off trailing a dozen centimeters of spine.

“I would have just shot in the head. No matter. Shall we break for early lunch while the janitorial staff takes care of this?”

Vykat smiled, barring her fangs.