by V Guy
Monday evening brought five different women into his counsel. Word of the Newday sessions had spread through the women’s berthing, and fresh questions and worries were tendered. Strengthening sessions, implant investigations in the records, and interrogation of the imprisoned minds followed as with the previous night. The three extra infirmary beds meant that the implants could be removed twice as quickly, and no overnight extractions were necessary.
Tuesday evening brought the worst afflicted of the Bedele Creative slaves into treatment. Conversations between the freed women during the previous two days meant the largely oblivious and desperate mature initiates were forewarned. This was by design. Newday and Monday sessions were with the least-afflicted half of the rescued; they better understood, sooner realized the potential gains of therapy, and could bear witness to the other women, especially to those whose awareness was dampened. Of the latter group, the twins were at equal states of implant maturity, and their issues were the most poignant.
They were the benchmark for Malik’s progress. Community would replace isolation, hope would replace despair, and Malik would ensure they had a place to land.
15: Impressions
Day 686: Xist; Evaline, Pathfinder
Their days were hectic. Anyone uninvolved with the slaves’ recoveries used their time to service the ship. Gym and simulator time were tightly scheduled luxuries.
Malik’s time in Xist became similarly sporadic, as most of his mental effort was exhausted working with the women or interrogating prisoners. He was an absentee regent, delegating his plans to well-trained and skilled generals, but even legendary generals needed occasional direction. He logged into the online game after his late Thursday sessions.
As Kilam, he forsook the confines of the palace and established a command post in one of the suites surrounding the massive structure. Men and women of high military stature surrounded him, bringing news, distributing orders, and awaiting commands. Kilam created new options for his forces in the canton of Provolas and took a break to gaze across his capital city. Considering his basic military tactic was to overwhelm the Coalition with numbers, it remained basically unchanged.
The arrival of a guest was unprecedented. Kilam normally wore elaborate cosmetic gear, but within moments after this new user’s arrival, a summoned suit of armor had formed around him, and he had drawn an enchanted blade from its sheath. Likewise, his surrounding protectors went into full battle mode and formed a barrier before him. Clarion cries of alarm arose.
“That’s hardly necessary,” said the amused, female newcomer.
“Who are you?” demanded Kilam, brandishing his weapon. “You may not be here.”
“I may,” she said, stepping forward. “I can go anywhere I wish.”
“You don’t have my permission.” He advanced. Enchantments shimmered over him, steadily increasing his strength and vitality.
“I have the director’s permission. I need nothing more.”
Three dragons landed near the balcony. Two mages and a contingent of paladins arrived in the burst of a teleport.
Kilam halted his advance. “Who are you? Why would the director grant you access?”
“Because I requested it, Malik. I’m Captain Kroes; I’m not your enemy.”
He frowned, dismissing the assembled force and pausing in thought. “Captain Kroes. There are more direct means of communication.”
“But none more secure. No one else comes here.”
“No one else can come here. Trusting other users is difficult. You are CSA; it is equally challenging with you. Why are you here, Captain?”
Although Kroes’s expression hardened, she refrained from sniping back. “Were you successful at Catricel?”
He turned away from her, entered two long numbers into a panel display, and executed a command, disabling a hovering tactical display for World One. “Have you prepared transfer papers for Helen?”
She smirked. “Have you returned my people?”
“You haven’t removed your observers. Should I start hunting you in equally good faith?”
Her smirk disappeared, a vulnerable cast touching her visage. “It takes time. These people don’t have time.”
He scowled. “Then you should hurry. You’re a CSA captain, not a military private. I’m certain accelerating the process is easy.”
“Was that a threat?” Her eyes flashed.
“It would be a fulfilled promise. Were you serious concerning your retraction, or was that another Central Security fabrication like the many Norris told?”
She eased closer and leaned against the console. “Immediate removal might have raised flags. They’ll go soon.”
Kilam frowned. “Then you’ll get your operatives ‘soon,’ and I get Helen’s freedom soon after. I’d say they’d still need recovery, but I wouldn’t expect you to respond quickly enough for the delay to be relevant.”
Kroes was unaccustomed to resistance, and the reminder of her near death at their earlier meeting stung. Equally stinging was the mystery of his knowledge—she had delayed sending messages to cancel her instructions, and he knew it.
“They’ll leave soon enough,” she said, fiddling with the panel’s entry form and adding numbers as she chose. “Where are the commandos?”
Kilam made a snort. “They’re hiding…from you.”
“How did you do it? How did you claim them?”
“My question first. Were they at Harris under direct CSA command, or were they on loan to someone else?”
“Why does it matter? It happened regardless.”
He shook his head. “If someone else borrowed your assets, then that person should be responsible for the restitution.”
“And if they weren’t?”
“Then you officially declared hostilities against me, and our previous agreements are nullified. We’d be at war, and no deals could be made until peace is declared.”
Kroes scowled. “You’re already square with Norris.”
“This occurred after Norris, much like the encounter with Helen after Catricel.”
“I’m not responsible for my predecessor’s decisions.”
“Or their losses,” said Kilam. “If you were, then their decisions belong to you as well.”
A new tension formed on her face as a buried grudge arose. “You need to know how small you actually are, Malik. You play this game with masterful skill, surmounting odds and obstacles in your goal to dominate a species that never would’ve succumbed in reality. You can live this fantasy for all I care, but it isn’t the real world.”
She finished the entry of a second number and pressed the execute command. Nothing happened. “You should remember that my world is the one that counts. The director was surprised to discover that the user who massively dominated the game was a slave. If he decides that he wants a cut of your massive profits, he’ll get it without question. Just how much do you enjoy this little diversion?”
Kilam gazed across the empire that took him years of time, interest, and considerable involvement to build, then hardened himself against its loss. “Are you seriously threatening me with the loss of a game?”
She recoiled, surprised. “What do you suppose would happen if all those opponents suddenly discovered that you were a gemie and ineligible to hold this magnitude of an account?”
He glanced across the grand city and shrugged. “Then I guess this war would end rather quickly.”
His ambivalence further perturbed Kroes “You make a lot of money here and could lose every bit of it,” she said.
“That’s true. Were you expecting a bribe? What’s your price? Are you any different than the other authority figures with flexible standards?”
Her jaw set, her feeling a bit self-conscious and trite under his implications. “I’ve already told you what I want.”
“Then we’re talking in circles.” He looked at her in disbelief. “You remove your people, you clear the records, I find your operatives, and you free Helen. Sounds pretty straig
htforward.”
A genuine anger surfaced within Kroes. “I’ve already said they’re short of time.”
“Then you should hurry.”
She set her teeth. “I’m working on it.”
“Yes,” said Kilam. “On borrowed time. I’m beginning to think you weren’t serious. I shall leave Evaline immediately to kill you.”
Kroes froze, but her eyes blazed. “Why aren’t you looking for Selena? Don’t you have other things to worry about?”
He cleared the information on his console and entered new coordinates. The map of a new canton appeared; he touched a spot in the map, and a single territory was enlarged. “My last leads were annihilated. I must now try something less definitive and more painstaking.”
“You could have gone earlier.”
“Yes, but most of my crew was away. I was also waiting for your fulfillment of our agreement’s preconditions.”
She scowled. “I said—”
“Are we going through this again?” he asked. “Must I repeatedly remind you why they need to be removed? How can I trust you otherwise?”
Kroes bit her lip and fought back a retort. The information dropped by “Helen” had informed her that Pathfinder remained grounded during the time in question, but her gut feeling said he hid something. “You want to find Selena, you know she passed through Bedele Creative, and now the facility is gone.”
Kilam touched the controls, and another occupied canton appeared before him. “Bedele Creative slaves are quite valuable—I can attest to that. Imagine their current worth to the desperate organization? Imagine how much money they could command at auction? Creative had that section of the market cornered, and now the field is potentially wide open.”
She paused, turning toward a distant statue to ponder the idea. “How do you know about this?”
“I occasionally access the news, even if divining the truth between the words is usually tricky. There’s an excellent timeline and analysis of the Bedele occurrences posted on the network. Is this an issue where you desired my services? I assure you; they would be expensive. Perhaps you were thinking of helping me with Selena? Would that be payment?”
Kroes made a snort and cocked her head. “Perhaps.”
“Then you would have a desirable commodity. Where do you wish your operatives deposited, assuming you withdraw your people and delete your records?”
“I’ll let you know,” she replied, stiffening and logging off. After ensuring she did not return, Kilam examined the console entry form.
Kroes had felt the need to expunge the information the fake revelations triggered, and the entry form provided the outlet. The first visible number was the quantity of minutes she watched of Helen’s first purge. The second number was the number of minutes viewed of the second purge. The digits to the left of the decimal on the second number were the length of pleasurable viewing, while the digits to the right were the repugnant viewing. There was an almost a perfect match between the pleasurable minutes watched and the minutes programmed. Malik cleared the display and smiled.
***
His next mental stop was one of the worlds of local Xist. He had visited the prison modules during the week as a catharsis after dealing with the initiates; touching the women’s manipulated minds was much like restoring historic homes. Delicate, thoughtful changes needed to be made while preserving the foundations of the women’s minds and rediscovering their unique qualities. The effort was rewarding, tiresome, and tedious. On the other hand, touching the prisoners’ minds was joyfully wielding a wrecking ball—there was occasional value in the resulting rubble, and some pleasure was derived from the destruction of minds who destroyed other minds for profit. Tonight would be different.
The Central Security operatives were grouped together in an intersection of four mind boxes. Each had a particular space they could call their own and within which they could feel secure, while a fourth box encompassed an expansive environment, providing a location for them to interact. This final space was represented as a tiny island.
A rocky rise was the foundation of this oasis, cresting to a roughly triangular peak. Palms and thin-bladed grasses guarded the stones’ bases against a generous plain of white sand. The southern beaches extended farther from the island’s center and provided space for three small, thatched-roof huts and a larger, covered shelter.
Sandra Banks, Lewis Frenn, and Yasil West relaxed in the shade, gazing toward the waves with a boredom-laden fatigue. Since awakening three days previous, they had thoroughly investigated their sandy world and believed they had seen all there was to see.
Shrill laughter immediately caught their attention. They glanced at each other to confirm the sound, stood to find the source, and were rewarded by the sight of a small child playing in the waves.
This was a little girl wearing a white straw hat with trailing blue ribbons. Her aqua swimsuit was graced with cheerful caricatures of crabs, octopodes, and starfish, and she held an inflated ball that was twice the size of her head. A wave would spread upon the sand and she would run from it. When the wave retreated, she pursued.
Her game was continuous and energetic. Sometimes she threw the ball and plunged into the waves to retrieve it. At other times, the ball rode the surf back to her. On this mundane slip of sunny, sandy land, she was the epitome of life.
The three CSA operatives shared another round of confused glances then walked to meet this anomaly. The child saw them, made an enormous grin, then tossed her ball playfully into the water. A shrill scream of joy signaled a return to the surf. After briefly fighting the waves, she retrieved the colorful ball, tightly grasped it, then bent to snatch her hat, which had fallen from her head. The child balanced it cockeyed, turned to them with an innocent grin, and made a boisterous wave.
Sandra beat the others to her. “Hey!”
The child smiled before returning to her play.
“Who are you?” called Sandra. “Where did you come from?”
“I’m playing,” replied the cheerful girl. She bent to retrieve the hat and fell into the water. After a giggle, she was back on her feet.
Sandra came closer and kneeled. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you, I’m playing.” The child dropped the ball and the troublesome hat on the sand then ran full-bodied into the surf.
“Wait!” said the operative, looking at her in frustration.
Sandra motioned toward Yasil and nodded grimly. The man stepped forward to capture the elusive child. The child grinned back and led the chase farther into the water. He followed. She quickly scooted again, holding her breath and plunging into the waves in an attempt to swim away. Yasil scowled in irritation. He dove, caught her right leg, and tried to yank her back.
He had grabbed something other than what he anticipated. Her tiny leg thickened, lengthened, and wrapped tightly around his arm, and his effort to free himself stirred something much bigger beneath the waves. Yasil looked back in distress, struggling to extricate himself from a tentacle that now coiled around his entire arm.
Sandra and Lewis retreated from the water’s edge.
Yasil’s feet rose from the sand and soon cleared the waves as the surf monster stood and lifted him by the neck. An armored, tentacled body emerged from the water’s surface, and a broad, toothy mouth unfolded from within the chitinous shell. A gravelly voice rumbled from its depths.
“If I had known this is how CSA operatives treated innocent children, I would’ve rejected the idea of their rescue in the first place.”
16: Delivery
Day 690: Evaline, Pathfinder
“We’re not traveling again, are we?” asked Evelyn, releasing a big sigh. “Didn’t we have enough to do?”
Malik returned from his Friday interviews to a misty, cool evening. He shook free the moisture and sealed the hatch behind him. “We are and we did. There are people on board who need to be elsewhere.”
She scowled. “It can’t wait?”
He shook his head. �
��The CSA operatives and Sofia Maris are leaving. I’m also taking this opportunity to investigate Salient. Some passive surveillance will be dropped in a few systems along the way.”
“Then Kroes yielded?”
“Relatively quickly after our last conversation. She seemed anxious to get her people back.”
Evelyn shifted her stance and glanced at Borislav. “I thought you’d be going to Bedele, if anywhere.”
Malik paused. “I need a place to look.”
“Haven’t you been interrogating them?”
“Every night. Is the decoy prepped for launch?”
She nodded. “What did you discover?”
His countenance hardened. “I’m provided only three hours a night to search files and examine minds. Return to your patients or your break. We’re leaving.”
Evelyn followed him to the infirmary. “Would you rethink this? How are we to help if we’re swamped by patients?”
“You’re now down to full doubles, I offer recharges every evening, and you have the nights free. I’ll be in sessions with eleven patients tomorrow and twelve patients Sunday. Liola and James will manage the piloting.”
“It’s becoming too much.”
He set food into the warmer, and his tone softened. “I’ve already dropped one work-hour from the schedule. Expectations are two more will be dropped for Sunday, and potentially another two on Newday.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “That’s only five hours over eighty-eight.”
He made a low growl. “We must have tangible progress, and my chosen minimums are a half man-hour net progress for everyone. Until a quicker method is discerned, every coming weekend will be similar. It would be unwise to wait until this is finished before pursuing other projects.”
“What do you know of the problem?” She slumped unhappily into a seat across from him. “What can you tell me?”
“Creative had closeout programs for discharging new products,” he replied, retrieving food from the warmer. “They covered tapering medications, locking the conditioning, easing away from prescribed diets, and stopping the implant’s growth. Every isolatable component within the recipes and medications were listed under untraceable, specialized code names. Supplies were stored onsite after big orders. They were unfortunately destroyed. There are multiple suppliers, and connecting products to them has been inconclusive. Before I make a trip to investigate twenty or more businesses, I’d like to be certain which direction to look.”