Chrysalis Corporation

by T. A. Venedicktov

  “You two need to eat as well.” Juni shrugged. “Besides, I want to show 108 my room too.”

  Requiem opened his mouth to protest once again, but closed it as he saw the look on Damion’s face daring him to say something against consuming a meal. He knew it was a battle he could not win. “If my Fighter commands it,” he said without emotion.

  Juni nodded to Damion and Requiem. “I’ll come get you two once the old man gets in, so stay here and chill until then.” He took 108’s hand and walked out of the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Requiem

  REQUIEM SAT there silently, his head still bowed until long after the sound of the door sliding closed completed. Only after that did he stand. “May I get you anything?” he asked his Fighter.

  Damion shook his head. “You don’t like not being plugged in. You’re going to go crazy if I leave you alone for a few hours.” Damion went to check out the large bathroom.

  “You being here will not hold off the need I have to jack in any more than if you are not here,” Requiem replied honestly after a moment, staying in the same spot that Damion had left him. “I have the console if it becomes… too much. And you promised me you would not let me become a burden.” He watched Damion’s movements from underneath his hair. “Of course, if you allow me to do so, I have no say against it.”

  Damion came out of the bathroom with a frown etched into his face. “I am not saying I wouldn’t like to go out, but you worry me.”

  “I do not mean to do so.” Requiem bowed his head even more. And it was the truth. Even if he could lie to Damion, it would have still been the truth. It was the last thing he wanted. “I will work harder at not causing you to worry.”

  “That won’t happen overnight.” With a long sigh, Damion sat back down in the chair next to where Requiem sat. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I don’t want to put you in danger. I trust Juni, but I want you to swear not to open that door for anyone.”

  Requiem looked down at Damion, unnerved at the viewpoint of standing over a Fighter as a Core should not. “If you order, your Core will obey,” he said softly. This was one order he had no problem agreeing with.

  “I don’t want to always order you around,” Damion explained in a huff. “But by being on that ship and around you nonstop, I’m starting to feel… different.”

  Requiem blinked as he looked at Damion. Not able to handle it anymore, he knelt next to his chair. “You’ve never acted, spoke, or felt the same as any other Fighter to begin with. Perhaps that is the difference you feel.”

  “Maybe. I really don’t know.” Damion put his head in his hands. “Even surrounded by luxury, you can confuse the shit out of me. I know by being a Fighter nothing makes us normal to begin with, and with me being an Alpha Fighter, we’ll be under even more stress sooner than we realize.” Damion looked at Requiem. “Do you even feel… need?”

  Requiem tilted his head.

  “Need? In what capacity do you speak of this?” Requiem shifted so that he wasn’t on his knees anymore. He sat to the side, mostly leaning against Damion’s leg.

  “Lust? Sex? They’ve taken all of that out of you, but me… I’m… not nineteen anymore, but damn if Juni wasn’t right, and I think I might be overreacting because I haven’t, well, you know, had sex in a while.” Damion let his head fall back on his shoulders. “Gods.”

  “Why have you not?” Requiem asked. But before Damion could answer, he added, “As for that category of needs, no, I do not have them.” Requiem thought about it for a moment, trying to remember the past. “That is incorrect. I did, when I was younger, but did not understand them. I was still contained in the laboratories then, too young to be assigned to a ship or a Fighter. Myself, and other Cores of a similar age, all felt the same thing and were… confused. When we presented the inquiry to the Creators about it, they placed us in the tanks. Eventually the feelings dispersed and they started us on another diet, which contained a suppressant. Something that we continue to consume to this day. I have not had full access to my emotions since. Not even when the other Fighters ordered me to.”

  “What will happen now that you’ll be off that food for over a week? Nothing? Has it melded into your body?”

  Requiem shifted so that he was facing away from Damion, leaning against the side of the plush chair, one knee held to his chest. “The chemicals and medications they give us do eventually become a permanent part of our bodies’ functions. And I have continued to eat at least a bite of our regulated food at least once a day, as has 108. We have even brought some with us. We do not know what will happen to us if we are away from those chemicals for too long. It has been a steady part of our diet since practically the day we were born and brought into the Corporation. We cannot afford to become ill because of the lack of it, and the possibility of going into withdrawal without it is quite strong.”

  “You mean it’s almost like an addiction? Or something similar to that? Next leave, I’m just going to sleep.”

  “Perhaps. But since we are unaware of how it will affect us precisely, we choose to be cautious instead. I am no use to you if I become ill or perhaps even perish.” Requiem was quiet for a moment, weighing his options. “You did not answer my question. Of course you have every right to choose not to. Why have you not participated in sexual contact?”

  “It seemed like a pain on the ship. Most of the girls were trying to suck up to a higher-ranking officer. Don’t get me wrong, a few years ago I wouldn’t have cared, but then I was promoted and we were so fucking busy, and the rest of my time….”

  “The rest of the time you were picking up the pieces of the messes I left behind or created,” Requiem finished for him. They weren’t the words that Damion probably would have liked, but they were the truth. “Forgive me for saying so, but Fighter Mathis is correct. Going out with him tonight is a wise idea to relieve stress.” Although that didn’t mean Requiem had to like it.

  Damion reached out and touched the top of Requiem’s head again. “Yeah, and you two don’t seem like the type to enjoy bar hopping and girl chasing. At least I could see Juni get turned down a time or twenty.”

  Requiem’s eyes closed and a contented sigh eased out of him. He relaxed. “And you would not be able to enjoy yourself if I was there with you. You would be too tense and worried about my safety. No, this is for the best. You do not need to be by my side at every moment, and I’m sure you will appreciate some time spent away from your vexing Core.” Even if Requiem would not.

  “I’ve become rather accustomed to you being by my side.” Damion chuckled. “But yes, a few hours attempting to be a normal citizen might help clear my head.”

  “Normal. That word again.” Requiem slipped out from underneath the comforting touch on his hair. He was starting to realize that he felt like one of the old Earth pets called a dog—a creature that was willing to do anything for the warmth and kindness of its owner’s hand. Requiem kept his back to Damion, his head bowed. “May I take a shower before the evening meal?”

  “Yeah, sure, you could swim in that white-coated circle they call a bathtub.” Damion looked over at the huge vid screen. Finding the control tablet on the table beside him, he punched in the code to dial out to his parents. “Going to see if I can send a wave home.”

  “I prefer showers,” Requiem said softly, walking toward the bathroom. “Enjoy your communications with your parents.”

  Damion

  “CONNECTION COMPLETED,” a generic voice said from the control panel.

  Damion’s mother came into view less than a second later. It had been a few months since Damion had sent her a wave. Since then, her hair seemed to have grown grayer where it interwove into her dark ponytail.

  “Hey,” he began simply, as he did more often than not—most likely due to the odd sensation of feeling five every time he saw her.

  “You look good.” She smiled, and Damion chuckled.

  “You always say that even when I’ve been bruised up. Are you
receiving the money still? No more problems with the transfers?”

  “Yes, we’re getting it, and it’s drivin’ your father crazy how much you’re sending. Tell me you’re leaving yourself something to live on.”

  She was always concerned he was sending too much money. If he had still been a Beta pilot, it would have been too much. The transfer to Alpha had increased his salary, and since he did not have a wife and children to support, he and the other single Fighters had more money than most of them knew what to do with—Juni notwithstanding.

  “I’m fine, Mom. Seriously. They provide most of our meals, not to mention I wear my uniform nearly every second of the day. So in my downtime, I’m still wearing clothes I brought from home. Well, the pants, that is. The tops I sorted through.”

  “As long as you’re livin’ a li’l.”

  Her concern always made Damion smile, even though he hated that he made her worry with his profession. Even if he died in the next encounter with the rebels, he had signed up for the Chrysalis Corporation’s life policy. His family would get a year of his wages outright as long as he died fighting.

  “I’m on Lunar, actually.” He felt his smile widen as her heavy, wrinkled eyes grew. His mother was always baffled by the small satellite being bestowed its own title. After the mass colonization of what was formerly the Earth’s moon, the ones who were pouring money into the venture demanded a proper label. So, Lunar it became.

  “It isn’t wise to lie, son.”

  “I’m not!” He laughed. “My friend Juni, he hails from here. Only reason I can afford it is because he’s putting us up, and he paid for half the private transport fee. He’s generous, and he doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

  “If I believe half of what you say about him, it’s because he’s pretentious and has a mouth faster than your brother’s bike engine.” She sighed and shook her head. “Still, be wary when people offer things for free.”

  “I know, Mom. I know. I’ll take a lot of pictures, and I’ll send you a gift.”

  “What about your father?” Her dark eyebrow arched upward.

  “He’s not one for trinkets, Mom. If I see anything useful to him, I’ll pick it up, though. Promise.”

  Damion never wanted to make promises to his mother, as he never wanted to let her down, but the enormity of her desire for him to include his father produced a strong urge to please. His father rarely kept items that were not of use in the day-to-day activities of a miner. Damion had learned that living simple was not merely a way of life, but a choice for his father. If he sent him some statue, he’d hock it for money to buy a new tool. It served Damion best just to outright buy the tool and avoid sentiment.

  “Good.” She nodded and then pursed her lips. “Son, you said ‘us.’ Are you seeing someone?”

  “Oh.” He straightened up as he began shaking his head. “No, no, not like that, Mom. Just me and my Core.”

  “You took it with you? Why?” His mother’s frown was of undeniable reproach. “We are not a slave-keeping family.”

  “Mom”—he cut off her tirade—“it’s not like that. I swear to Hera it is not. He belongs to me, yes, but also the Corporation. I need to keep him safe, and the best way to do that is to keep an eye on him.”

  “I don’t like those things,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “He’s not a thing, Mom. He’s a person. He didn’t ask to be a Core. I can at least treat him well. You always told me to treat men with cautious civility. Mom, 47, he won’t hurt me. He physically can’t, and I think it’s civil for me to make sure no one hurts him.”

  “You make him sound like a dog.” Her nose wrinkled as she flapped her hands. “No, no, we’re not going to discuss this while you’re on your leave.”

  “Okay, Mom.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I, uh, love you, and I’ll send you a wave as soon as I can.”

  “You mean as soon as you remember.” She let out a small bark of laughter that was very unladylike and completely endearing.

  “Yeah.” He laughed and waved. “Goddess bless, Mother.”

  “May the gods protect you, Son.”

  Damion was closing the call as Juni returned, announcing that his father had arrived home from work and they would sit down to eat in the next ten minutes. Damion was not looking forward to this dinner and hoped this would be the only meal he was obligated to attend.

  Requiem

  REQUIEM WRAPPED a towel around his waist before he came out of the bathroom since he hadn’t taken any clothes in with him. Generally, when it was he and Damion, he didn’t bother since Cores didn’t have a problem with modesty, but he didn’t feel right being bare in front of his Fighter’s friend. Keeping his gaze down, he went to the bags and opened them, pulling out the first thing he found before scrambling back to the bathroom to change. He could hear Damion’s and Juni’s voices drifting through the door.

  Requiem saw Juni shaking his head and grinning as he disappeared into the bathroom.

  “He shy?” Juni laughed.

  Damion sounded amused as he spoke. “Not usually. We will be down for the dinner, don’t worry.”

  “And after?”

  “Yes, I will go out to the bars with you.” Damion sighed. “But you’re buying!”

  Requiem came out a few minutes later, completely dressed and his hair slick to his face from combing. He was wearing tight jeans and a long-sleeved black button-up shirt that Damion had bought him. Requiem figured it would put Juni’s parents more at ease if they didn’t have to see his multitude of input ports. He couldn’t hide all of them, not without gloves and a cap, but he could hide most of them.

  “Is it time?” he asked Damion, thankfully not sounding like he was asking if it was his time of execution.

  “Yeah. Ready to face the head of the household?” Damion’s smile was not broad or amused.

  “If you do not mind, I will abstain from answering your question,” Requiem replied, stopping next to Damion, his gaze on the ground. He knew that very soon Damion would be upset. From what he’d read, it was common for the servants of a household to eat separately from the owners and guests. Requiem knew that Damion wouldn’t stand for that and there might be a bit of an argument. “Do you mind if I suggest that in the next hour or so, you concentrate on… keeping your temper if I or 108 are the topic of discussion?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Damion spoke slowly in a way Requiem had noted meant he was attempting to control his temper. “It’s just a dinner. After which they will ignore us, I’m sure.” He gave the top of Requiem’s head a pat.

  Requiem closed his eyes for a moment. Damion was not a man who worried about angering others. Requiem opened his eyes and released a small sigh. “Just a thought.” He followed him out of the door.

  They followed the smells of food and the low rumble of voices. As they walked down the expansive hallway, Damion kept one eye on Requiem, as if to make sure he didn’t scurry off or one of the other servants didn’t try to pull him away. Now, after Requiem’s warning, Damion really was on edge.

  As they came into the dining room, Juni and his father were talking, and from the way Juni’s neck was turning red, it wasn’t all good.

  “Look, Juni’s friend is here,” Daulee Mathis announced in a falsetto tone. She had changed into a cream dress and put her hair up. She also wore more jewelry than before. She cut in between father and son and wrapped her arms around Damion’s left arm. “Judas, this is Damion.”

  Juni’s father had a strong square jaw, cold hazel eyes, and stood almost thirty centimeters taller than both mother and son. He was wearing the garb of a Chrysalis Corporation executive and a disapproving frown. The frown slowly smoothed out, and he nodded in Damion’s direction.

  “Welcome to our home. Thank you for looking after our empty-headed son,” Judas quipped before stepping away. “Forgive me, but I will return shortly.”

  Juni’s mother made an unsettled laugh as she watched her husband leave the room. “He is just off to change
his wardrobe. He won’t be long.”

  “Ah, it’s fine. Am I intruding? I can go out with my Core if it would be easier,” he offered but saw Juni begin to flush red.

  “It’s fine. It’s fine. He’s just being a stubborn old ass—”

  “Juni! Your manners. That’s your father,” Daulee snapped as she tugged Damion forward.

  Requiem didn’t quite know what do to once Damion was pulled from him. His gaze flickered quickly around the room, and he spotted 108 standing against the wall next to the kitchen door, trying to look as small as possible. Moving quickly, he joined him there and hoped they wouldn’t be noticed or be the cause of any trouble, but he also knew that wasn’t likely to happen.

  “What is your favorite food?” Juni’s mother asked, not letting go of Damion’s arm.

  “I enjoy a good shepherd’s pie,” Damion told her, looking more on edge than before.

  “What is that?”

  Juni spoke up. “Damion, they want the Cores to eat in the kitchen, and I told my father no, but I….”

  “I do disagree with sending them away,” Damion said simply, leaving it at that.

  Requiem let out an inaudible sigh. He had tried to warn Damion. 108 turned toward him, worry and slight fear in his gray eyes before he returned his gaze to the floor. Requiem stepped out from the wall, bowing his head as well.

  “We do not wish to create any discord in this household or between family members. We go where our Fighters wish, though.” Requiem said loudly enough for all to hear his emotionless voice. He turned toward Daulee. “Shepherd’s pie is a dish made with ground lamb, peas, onions, with a mashed potato top and baked in the oven.”

  Juni’s shoulders deflated after Requiem’s words, and Requiem watched as even Damion’s fight leaked out of him.

  The universe seemed intent on pointing out how different they all really were in life and the fact that he, as a Core, could see how much the argument was causing ripples and the Fighters couldn’t, or wouldn’t, admit it, proved that once again.