A samba with the MAMBA - Sara Bellum

June 15th, 2013, 19:00 hours In a cave system underneath an Indonesian island I sit back and allow myself a smile. Up here on the observation deck, I can see the final pieces of my latest creation being put in place by the machinery and men that Carmen has allowed me. This is the tedious part of engineering, I must admit, but it is also the part that brings the greatest thrill when it's done. All the diagrams have been followed, all the machinery has been tested, and the most dangerous parts of assembly have been done. Now it's just, as one of my professors at Cambridge put it, "tab A into slot B time." I have spent more time on this project than any I have ever done for any of VILE's other machines, but I do not regret it. I confess, I have put more heart into this machine than any other, and I hope its performance reflects that. The MAMBA is real. I finish off my dinner, a simple fruit salad, and down the last of my glass of kriek (a minor indulgence of mine) as I stand to look over the rail at that gorgeous vehicle. The MAMBA, short for Marine/Aeronautic Mobile Base, my crowning achievement and a thing of beauty. At just about 100 meters long but only 8 meters wide at its widest point, it resembles a massive snake, suitable for its name. It is segmented as well, allowing it to curl, twist, and writhe as maneuverability demands, with each segment being 8 meters long, with the cockpit being 12. Who knows, perhaps for a while any sonar or radar that detects it will think it's a legendary serpent of some kind. Perhaps I should have named it Quetzalcoatl, but that really would have been a pain to make an acronym for. It rests there in the dry dock, and I can see myself in its black metallic sheen. Once the final pieces of the outer shell are attached, I shall run a final test of the active camouflage system. I must hand it to the military and, rumor has it, ACME, for coming up with the idea. Now whenever we need to, we can just push a button and the image from one side of the MAMBA gets transmitted to the corresponding spot on the other side, rendering us, if not invisible, than nearly so. Of course, if in the air and on afterburners, there's still going to be plenty of haze, and being high enough would create vapor trails. Perhaps I should work on something for that? No, another time. For now, I shall revel in the moment. It can also turn any color, though crimson is preprogrammed, just in case she decides to stay thematic. I return to my simple room to make my weekly progress report to Carmen. "The MAMBA should be completed within the next 24 to 48 hours, Carmen. The magneto-hydrodynamic propulsion drives are all working within parameters, even when at full turn, so we should be able to run near-silent, though not quite as fast as a normal submersible, should we choose to. The extendable turbine engines have been tested on all segments as well, so we have underwater propulsion if the drive fails, and we should be quite fast indeed in the air. All segments are able to be separated from each other in emergencies, the designated cargo pods having pontoons and parachutes, the personnel pods having rudimentary thrust and maneuvering capabilities, making them something akin to escape pods. The cockpit itself is a fully functional aircraft with afterburner thrusters, excellent for a quick getaway, and has been tested thoroughly. One of your henchman apparently always wanted to be a fighter pilot. Active camouflage is as effective as it can be for something like this, though for a craft that is almost as long as an American football field, I think we'll take what we can get. We've ended up with about 3000 cubic meters of interior space, not counting anything stuffed in the cockpit, and if we completely filled that we would still be able to fly, barely. I wouldn't try filling it with lead though, since it does have its limits. I look forward to showing her to you in person. We have much to catch up on, I hear. Sara Bellum, out." I send the message into the ether, taking a moment to marvel at the ability for a bundle of oddly shaped chunks of metal to manipulate the laws of physics so that the message can be sent. That is the trick to being a scientist, surely. To be able to see how wondrous present technology is, whilst always looking ahead to how much greater it could all be. As I seat myself on my bed I look over at my personal workbench, where I myself strive to push the envelope still more and to achieve that greatness that I see. So many side projects of mine lay unfinished on that bench. The sonic multitool, capable of emitting powerful but focused vibrations on a multitude of frequencies, capable of breaking locks, creating diversions, getting a basic sonar reading, and, if I'm willing to burn out a few circuits, create a single shockwave to knock people over. Someday I hope to have it be as multipurpose as its inspiration, but that is a long way off, if ever. Even now it only works for a short while before the power source needs replaced. I'm waiting to get one until I can get out of this place. Strangely enough, no one delivers to a secret base. The sonic multitool lays next to my portable wiremapper, a collapsible square that can be placed against a wall and get readings on where wires are and which ones currently have flowing electricity, all by measuring conductivity and magnetic fields. I'm just trying to figure out now how to make it display it all in three dimensions. Elsewhere around the bench are bits and pieces of half a dozen other ideas, not nearly so complete. Some abandoned, some simply waiting for a fresh burst of inspiration. Inspiration that seems hesitant to come today, for some reason. Perhaps I can allow myself a short break from my work, what with the MAMBA finally being done. I reach down deep under my bed and pull out my journal, assigned to me by the VILE psychologist who has since given up on me. I find I enjoy writing in it, though. It is good to let my guard down. Inside the cover I have taped her picture, the woman I swore an oath to. It seems like a lifetime ago. She was so young then, but still so very brilliant, and funny, and just so very wonderful. I strive every day to live up to the ideal set by her, and I can only hope that she is proud of me. I miss her. It's been almost a year since I have seen her in person, but I'll be seeing her again soon. I take off my goggles so I can see her properly, even though I know her face so very well, and I free my hair from the ponytail I've taken to keeping it in. "I'm going to be out of here soon. Dr. Sara Bellum is going to return to the world stage. I wish you could see me now, Illyana. I have done so much, and I will keep my promise until I die. I miss you, my sister." I close the book.