Renegade: The Ten Sigma Series Book 2

by A W Wang

  When he stays quiet, pinching the bridge of his nose, I add, “Why should I have to hide who I am?”

  “Because you are a ten sigma.”

  I frown at the notion of “Proper Welcomes” and odd chants.

  “Couldn’t you have at least pretended?”

  “It’s a little late now.”

  He sighs. “I think something went wrong with your download.”

  “Think?”

  “I mean more than I thought before.”

  “Great, just great,” I say, waving my hands to emphasize all the sarcasm I’m feeling.

  “Can you go over again what happens when you blackout? With just details and no added commentary?”

  After glaring at him, I bite my lip and give my mind permission to reenter the nightmare. “I fall through the information, which is like an upward flowing stream. And then I get to the cubes. They’re huge, and each one holds a ton of knowledge.”

  “The representation isn’t important. What happens next?”

  “I drop through a storm and land in the map from my last scenario, a network of rivers and sandy islands. And there are these metallic aloe vera like plants with sharp leaves.”

  “I’ve heard about that map. Pretty nasty place.”

  “It’s worse if you’ve been there,” I snap.

  “Sorry, I’m sure it was awful.”

  When I stay silent, he says, “I don’t mean to pry. I only want to know these things, so I can help.”

  “Do we need to go into the details?”

  He shrugs. “I’m not making any guarantees, but anything might be useful.”

  I drag my fingers along my hair and push myself into the experience. “When I’m there, two AI models torture me. A girl with violet eyes and a bald giant. And the bodies of everyone who died are still lying around.”

  The part about Syd coming back to life, I leave out.

  He studies me for a moment before saying, “The dead might be just part of your memory. What relationship do you have with those models?”

  I shrug, unwilling to go into more detail about how I killed the bald giant. A touch of heat enters my loins. Although my legs shift, I keep my expression neutral. That orgasm I had when killing my tormentor is another thing I really need to forget.

  “How do you get out of the map?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you just wake up? Is there a catalyst?”

  “Something like an earthquake hits, and the map ripples from the outward edges inward. When the wave meets at the center, I get tossed back up.”

  “We could be in trouble.”

  As he rubs his forehead, trying to figure out what to say, I wait him out, not liking the direction of the conversation.

  “You see, ten sigmas are lethal.”

  “Jonathon, get to the point.”

  “A control mechanism is installed for all the people in the Ten Sigma Program. It’s designed to oversee your higher decisions. Nothing to interfere with your fighting abilities, but something to make sure that the ten sigma follows instructions. The collar physically—”

  “That metal collar when I first got back?” I say, touching my neck.

  He nods. “That’s the reason why I told you to consider leaving.”

  I hold up my hand to forestall any more conversation. Although the “No Electronics Rule” guarantees this conversion is private, I glance over the surroundings, making sure nobody else is within earshot.

  The guards remain in their usual positions, motionless.

  My control mechanism manifested as the bald giant, Ekton’s model. I remember when the overlords tried to use him to kill me, and what I did under the influence of the blue liquid to survive. I flush that brutal fight from my mind. The person who did those awful things is not who I am.

  When I nod for Jonathon to continue, he says in a whisper, “You shouldn’t have been able to fight until I unlocked it.”

  “If I hadn’t, we would have been captured.”

  “True, but that’s the sign of a deeper issue.” He sighs. “Your control mechanism is fighting back. That wave…”

  “You mean it’s throwing me up? Like a bad meal?”

  “More like a sneeze, but you’ve got the gist of it.” His next words come with an ominous tone. “Never tell anyone about any of this.”

  Instead of responding, I wonder what else could have gone wrong with my return to the real world.

  Jonathon supplies the answer…

  “The powers that be won’t let you out of here until they’re sure you are controllable.”

  I shiver at the thought of being subject to the same existence that Peter described. Not only about sex, but with how the ten sigmas perform their missions. Destroying everything in my path without any regard for morality outside of mission parameters isn’t something I find palatable. “Do you think they can restore whatever control it had?”

  He shrugs, not understanding my trepidations. “I’m not sure.”

  “Any idea of how to fix this issue without letting this thing gain control over me?”

  “Not yet. The only thing that I’m certain of is that you can’t let anyone know.” He shakes his head. “It might already be too late. For the time being, you’ll need to fake it.”

  Already hating the idea, I say, “Peter said to trust Victoria. Maybe she could be an ally.”

  “She’d be a good one to have.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Victoria is brilliant, beyond a genius level. She’s the youngest Defense Secretary ever, and it’s a more important cabinet position than Secretary of State. Given the economy, she’s done an amazing job of shoring up the national defenses.”

  “Outside of New Austin…”

  “That wasn’t her fault. She can only do so much with the directives of the President.” He sighs. “Having another ten sigma will really help things. She should be a good ally.”

  “Why are you saying should?”

  “Strategic planning is her strong suit, and she’ll do what’s best for the country. I’d think having you around is a good thing. But still…”

  I wait him out with a stony stare.

  He takes a deep breath. “The final decision isn’t up to her.”

  “It’s not up to Balthazar, is it?”

  “No, he works under Victoria. But stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”

  I nod, being way ahead of him on that one.

  “They’ll be coming to test you.”

  “Test?”

  “Yes, to make sure everything’s okay.”

  I groan.

  “I’m sure you faced tougher things in the program.”

  “That was fighting. Not…” I let my hands wave around to complete the thought.

  “Whatever you do, try your best.”

  “Obviously,” I say as a sigh.

  “And if anything goes wrong, don’t kill anyone.” He ignores my glare. “For now, just follow instructions. I’ll research what they do in the program and go over your history. Hopefully, I’ll figure something out.”

  “Is that going to be dangerous?”

  “Probably, but don’t worry about me. Just try not to say anything you don’t have to. Let me work on figuring out what’s wrong with your mind.”

  A question forms in my thoughts.

  “Jonathon,” I say quietly, “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I’m wondering…”

  “Why I disobeyed orders to help you?”

  “Yes, you could have been safe and avoided the entire battle. And don’t tell me it’s because the country needed another ten sigma.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  When he tightens his lips, I sigh, unwilling to push the only person who can help me out of this predicament.

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “Don’t attempt to access any information from those cubes.”

  “Why? I can handle the pain.”

  “It’s not that. The contro
l mechanism will fight back harder each time. Remember, while you’re trying to get rid of it, it’s trying to restore its hold over you.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but you have to be careful of any tricks.”

  As I chew on a nail, unhappy with everything, Jonathon brightens the situation by adding, “Or something worse might happen.”

  Picturing the violet-eyed girl, bald giant, and Syd, I ask, “Like?”

  “If you die there, you’ll die here in real life.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a residual from the Ten Sigma rule of not dying in a scenario.”

  “How would that even be possible?”

  “Are the details all that important?”

  I shake my head, groaning at the shit-storm in my mind.

  “Just try to act like a ten sigma and don’t do anything stupid,” he says and walks away.

  As his pudgy figure recedes, I wonder where the line is between smart and stupid.

  I have no idea.

  Twenty-Three

  I zip up the prison outfit, focusing past the bars of my cell to the circle of black knights standing with rifles at the ready.

  Dr. Sims says from the entrance to the washroom, “You check out physically.”

  I roll my eyes at the slim man, who has touches of gray leaking into his dark brown hair and looks about fifty. Considering I’m in a maxed-out form designed to appear human, discovering everything is where it’s supposed to be is something that should be a given. Especially without poking and prodding over every centimeter of my body.

  “Sorry about the quaintness of the examination,” he says as if reading my annoyance. “It’s just that in this space, there are no electronics allowed, and no ten sigmas were available to escort you to the lab.”

  I guess they don’t trust me.

  Forcing a pleasant tone, I say, “I understand.”

  His assistant, a woman dressed similarly to him in a gray unitard and lab coat, scribbles furiously on a clipboard.

  When I glare, she replies in a no-nonsense voice, “Every bit of data is necessary.”

  Clinks come as Dr. Sims shoves mechanical contraptions into a large black bag. “Quite frankly, I’m amazed things worked out as well as they did.”

  I arch an eyebrow, remembering incapacitating data dumps and throbbing headaches. “Oh?”

  “Consciousness implantation is something I’m more than familiar with. I was in charge of the team that was supposed to fly into New Austin. There are four separate specialists involved with the integration of the mind into the body. But, the attack rendered that moot.” He shakes his head in wonder and admiration seeps into his words. “Jonathon shouldn’t have been there. When I received orders to stand down, he received orders to bug out. We helped him until the commlink broke.” He blows out a breath. “I can’t imagine doing the rest while being in the middle of a battle.”

  I picture carnage, refugees, and blood. “Unless you’ve been shot at, you probably can’t.”

  The assistant flips to a new page and scrawls more observations as Dr. Sims purses his lips. After a long pause, he says, “No, I guess not.”

  Woody top notes of cologne drift past.

  The doctor glances over my shoulder and hurriedly says, “Well, I’m glad everything turned out. Again, my apologies for any inconvenience. We’re finished.”

  Feeling guilty and more than a little concerned about my next guest, I say, “No apologies are necessary. You were just doing your job.”

  “As we all are,” Balthazar says from outside the cage. “Was everything to your satisfaction, doctor?”

  “She checks out. Physically everything is perfect.”

  “Make sure to have that report to me by nightfall.”

  Dr. Sims nods and shoves the last of the medical devices away with a clatter. As soon as the cell is unlocked, he motions to his assistant, and they rush out the door.

  “I guess he’s pretty busy,” I say with a shrug.

  “He’s a good man and efficient at his job,” Balthazar replies, entering. He waves to the black knights standing guard.

  Two of them bring in a table and chair, which they set next to the bed.

  When Balthazar gestures with a smile, I sit on the mattress with my legs pushing under the table. He pulls up the chair and sits opposite. After he adjusts his position, a third black knight sets parchment paper and an inkwell onto the tabletop. Balthazar pulls out a quill pen—a truly odd sight for the times.

  As the door clangs shut, he waves the feathery end, saying, “I find writing to be a wonderful exercise. Quite the forgotten art.”

  While the tip scratches across the paper, his cologne drifts past. The lighter notes have faded, and more of the leather base is prevalent.

  I wrinkle my nose, trying to detect what’s underneath, then give up.

  What does it matter?

  Balthazar glances up from his notes. “Normally, this part of the evaluation is performed by a lower-level assistant. However, a ten sigma is quite the weapon system. So many moving pieces all needing to come together to make the perfect killing machine…”

  I return a faint smile as the threads inform me of fifty different ways I could grab the quill and end his existence with the sharp tip. For a mysterious reason, I find the technique of disemboweling preferable to the others. I look to the bars and the waiting black knights beyond and sigh internally. Even if I could take out the three guards inside and get through the locked door, there would still be major issues.

  Also, I did promise Jonathon I wasn’t killing anyone.

  Balthazar finishes writing the first page with a flourish of strokes. “While Dr. Sims made sure you physically are normal, I’m here to perform the more important mental test.”

  “I’m not sure why this is necessary,” I say, heeding Jonathon’s warning.

  He grabs a fresh sheet. “You’re the first ten sigma who went into the program as a human and returned. We need to make sure everything is working properly.”

  “It’s just that I feel fine,” I say, horribly contorting the truth.

  The chair squeaks as he pulls it closer to me. “This is a complicated process and doing it under fire would make it doubly so—”

  “I think Jonathon did his best.”

  “I’m certain he did. It’s a wonder you’re actually functioning, let alone correctly.”

  Great.

  I smile to cover the sense of dread pooling in my stomach.

  He splays his fingers, examining his perfectly manicured nails, while I resist the urge to chew my ratty ones.

  Again, I wrinkle my nose, struggling to place the odor that’s leaking from under his cologne.

  His palm thumps on the wooden tabletop. “In the end, you blacked out. Once, that we know of. Given your perfect physical condition, that’s a major issue because it implies something is defective with your mind.”

  Even better.

  My smile widens as I stay silent, not wanting to reveal any more detail.

  “We can’t have that happening when you’re on a mission, so I hope you can understand my concern.”

  I draw a breath and commit to fighting the current battle rather than wondering about the riddle that is Balthazar. “Of course. You’re the expert, and I’ll do whatever you think is best,” I reply, imagining what a perfectly constructed ten sigma would say.

  “Good,” he replies cordially. “While you might not consider me a friend, I’m not your enemy either. I’m only trying to get to the bottom of the issue, so you can function within ten sigma expectations.”

  “Of course.”

  “Please answer my questions honestly and to the best of your ability.”

  I nod, not trusting myself to answer with any sincerity.

  “When you first regained consciousness, was there any pain?” he asks as an ice-breaker.

  “Only a bit of a headache.”

  The quill marches over the parchment. “I see.”


  “I’m not sure if that’s important.”

  He looks up from his writing, his pale blue eyes boring through me. “Everything is important.”

  I match his stare and wait for the next question.

  The sharp tip dips into the inkwell, and he asks, “Do you remember when the collar restraint was released?”

  “Not exactly. But, I think it was very soon after I awakened.” I chuckle, touching my hand to my neck.

  He studies me before committing more loops and lines to the paper.

  “Were there any other blackouts?”

  The probing lacks direction; he’s not sure what he’s looking for. Although I don’t want to give anything away, any hesitation will only feed his suspicions. As a compromise, I reply, “When I thought about getting out of the building.”

  He rubs the feather under his chin. “How odd. Any others?”

  “No. I mean none before when I passed out at the end of the fighting.”

  “What were you thinking about then?”

  “I don’t remember. Maybe I was just relieved the mission was successful.”

  “Yes, bringing the Defense Secretary to safety was of the utmost importance.”

  “Captain Jameson helped too.”

  “She and Victoria were very close. It’s very sad that she didn’t survive,” he replies in anything but a sad voice.

  I nod.

  Moments pass as his elegant handwriting fills the rest of the sheet. After he blows to dry the ink, he sets it aside. “Are there any other abnormalities?”

  Like a bunch of giant cubes laid over my last scenario map where every one of my virtual nightmares is waiting to torment me?

  “No.”

  He reaches for another sheet and dips the quill. “Anything at all? Any details. Resonances of the virtual world?”

  “No. I mean, maybe. There are a lot of bad memories I have from that place.”

  “I understand those recollections might be traumatic, and if you don’t feel up to this…”

  Quickly, I weigh the damage that finishing the test could do against what I’m divulging if I don’t finish and say, “I guess I don’t see the point of these particular questions. But if it’s necessary, then I don’t mind.”

  “That’s an excellent answer. Anything from your past? Perhaps parents? Loved ones?”