by V Guy
A little of his disgust reached Evelyn. “Why did she do it?”
The councilwoman sensed her future was about to be decided; her feature’s slackened in concern.
“Business interests,” replied Malik. “Paradise’s merchants were honest and delivered quality goods at reasonable prices. They were cutting into the market share. As for Catricel, roses were her passion—she wanted them for herself.”
Evelyn glared at Hill in anger. “What have you planned?”
“Make her forget the past and give her this.” He raised a cherry-red tablet for her to view. “A quadruple-overdose quantity of pure, concentrated Focus. This is the last time she will ever think of anything.”
“Are you sure it’s enough?”
“It worked on four leading Central Security officers associated with the project.”
The blood drained from Hill’s face. She began to tremble. “What do you want? I can give you anything.”
Malik made a genuine expression of pleasure and surprise then turned to Evelyn. “Did you hear that? None of this ‘You don’t understand’ nonsense. Not only is she uncaring, she’s completely aloof.”
“You can give us the lives of the entire Catricel population,” said Evelyn, glaring at Hill. “What about that?”
The woman partially regained her composure. “I can give you a universal for each citizen. That’s generous.”
Evelyn’s eyes flashed. “How about ten?”
Hill thought for a moment and made a confident smile. “That would require the exchange of services and credit in lieu of cash, but it could be arranged.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Malik, noticing Evelyn’s rage. “I have your thumbprint, your passwords and authentications, and all your account numbers. You can’t buy amnesty, not when I can take your money for free.”
Hill’s eyes widened, and she was struck with disbelief. “The favors are worth far more than the cash.”
“Your favors hold no allure, I can’t use your money, and she doesn’t need it.” He glanced at Evelyn. “But I’ll steal everything you received under the table—the black accounts aren’t insured. Your children shouldn’t benefit.”
Evelyn set her jaw and paced. “How will this work? What if they learn how to treat the overdose?”
“Then she’ll be a blank slate shackled by a foundational, survival-instinct paranoia. The high-potency fear will secure the void in her brain better than I ever could, and any life that followed would be dictated by the dread of its repetition. An overdose of Focus will ensure its permanence.”
Evelyn made a satisfied half-smile and turned to the woman.
Hill backed into the corner again, shaking her head. “We can come to an agreement, I’m certain of it.”
Malik shook his head in disgust. He slid the skull interface to the woman and forced her to retrieve and wear it. Her anxiety was briefly numbed as she forgot her past, then fear was planted into her mind. Malik substrate-pushed the pill into her belly. Moments later, the horror on her face became permanent. Her jaws slackened, her eyes lost focus, and her paralyzed form was pushed back to her home on Earth.
The simulator returned to the gray diamonds of projector units, but Evelyn continued to stare at the void Hill’s exit left. “How many more are there?”
“A unanimous council voted for the final Catricel and Paradise resolutions, and a committee of eighteen voted for the liquidation of the Remnant. Four hundred and twenty people sit on the council, while probably fewer than two hundred industrialists and investors were responsible for padding their pockets and deciding policy.”
“Unanimous? They got that many people to agree?”
“Money made that many people agree.”
She paused to ponder the level of complicity. “That’s a lot of people and a lot of Focus—you don’t have that much.”
He shrugged. “I have plenty. Any council member unassociated with Salient will receive a different sort of debilitation, one that removes them from office within three years. It’s delayed justice and less harsh.”
Evelyn was suspicious. “We destroyed all the Focus removed from Roman and Yulia.”
Malik pondered her then stepped from the simulator. She followed as he entered the infirmary and pointed to the hidden, secure chamber to the side. He remotely entered the entry codes to activate the hatch. Evelyn entered.
Five of the vines that once graced the passages were preserved and flourishing along the closest wall, while the side wall had opaque containers of semi-artificial organs preserved and kept functioning. Thirty-centimeter long, protected containers were attached to the vines by clamps, and similar support structures could be seen as shadows in the other enclosures. Malik motioned.
“I wanted to see just how long a grub could live. I instead discovered how long they can grow; new containers will soon be necessary.”
“They’re huge,” said Evelyn in astonishment, placing a hand on the enclosures and thinking of the small creatures removed from the Remnant patients. “How did you keep them alive?”
“Protect them, feed them well, support them, and inhibit pupation. The ones on the vines produce a better product, but the ones on the biological matrix are easier to manage. Either way, the bigger they are, the more they consume, and the more Focus they produce.”
Her mind spun. “How do the larvae on the matrixes produce Focus? Wasn’t that the purpose of the vines?”
“Part of the ingested material isn’t digested and gets incorporated into the creature,” replied Malik. “It actually stimulates a catalyzed reaction to the sustenance provided by the human-patterned artificial tissue, causing the grubs to produce a lesser quality but still effective product. I can easily remove the impurities and increase the concentration.”
She looked at him and grimaced. “These are terrible creatures. Did you discover their creator from the councilwoman’s brain?”
Malik paused. “She didn’t know, and all those who worked the project were killed by jumpers prior to our arrival. The interdependency of the dragons, the vines and their nuts, and the insects led me to more closely evaluate their genetics. The same designer’s mark was found within them.”
Evelyn furrowed her brow. “You’re related to Drelas—you’ve told me that already.”
He nodded. “The Fates and I also share the mark.”
“Then that’s a talented geneticist.”
“It is. The work is exquisite, and the programming is pristine.”
She was pensive when she stepped free of the small room, and concern dominated her face. “Could there be another solution? I can stomach the deaths of a committee of eighteen, but not the entirety of the council.”
Malik secured the hatch, activated the concealment, then moved toward the infirmary’s exit. “They’re all complicit. It’s justice.”
Evelyn bit her lip. “Isn’t the purpose of justice change? We could kill them all, but another batch would follow, just as bad as the previous bunch. That’s not change.”
He stopped and frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t like the killing, never did.” She lowered her eyes as her struggle matured. “Self-defense is one thing…why not change their minds instead? You’ve done it before. You conditioned Kroes, who has a powerful mind, you can make people selectively forget, you can implant programming.” She locked eyes with him. “Your mind is powerful, and yet you fought every eight days because of the implanted love of a woman. Only catatonia broke the programming.”
Malik was introspective as he entered the passage. “Conviction and purpose anchored in passion.”
Lallis saw him and strolled closer for attention. Evelyn entered the passage behind him.
“That was strong programming, and controls were established within me,” he said.
“The nuts and the vines were a control for the dragons. What was yours?”
“Slave conditioning, but I don’t think I was expected to survive long; my primary sensory
center was destroyed for that very purpose.” He motioned the prowler forward and stroked her sides.
Evelyn made a snort and petted Lallis’s head. “As you say, you weren’t made to die. What about the mantis? Did it have a mark?”
“Hard to tell. It wasn’t precisely biological.”
“Have you broken its mind?”
Malik nodded, making a victorious smile. “It was sturdy—redundantly encrypted, tightly programmed, and secure. It was certainly the toughest test I’ve ever faced, even more than the prisoner before Tack. Extremely satisfying. When we arrive on Catricel in two days, I can work on methods of shielding its telepathy.”
“Imagine how much easier changing the council members would be. After dealing with the shielding, we could pursue the paladin.”
Malik looked thoughtful. “I’ll meet him eventually. I have enough with which to contend. My goal was to retrieve Selena, that’s all, and the Dynang are dead. I’ll consider your recommendation for the council.”
She glanced at him in surprise then frowned. “Can we go somewhere other than Catricel for your tests? All the modules are done, the scrap is unnecessary, and I’d rather we spent our time looking for Salient. At least we wouldn’t need to decon everything after the trip.”
“I suppose.” He moved toward the bridge. “The Whisker National forest on Tarabach’s wild continent would work. You could visit Gala while we’re there. In the meantime, you should make plans for tearing down the dorm.”
“That again?” Evelyn scowled. “I’ve still got the last of Selena’s implants to remove and all her nerve trimming. That’s a few more weeks even with the Fates’ help.”
He paused. “The dorm destruction is the final step of the healing process. The women’s beds are better than everyone else’s; if you upgrade the existing quarters with new bunks and bathroom facilities, you could move the women from the dorm and tear down the incriminating structure. Beyond that, turn it into anything you wish. When I’m done robbing the councilwoman, scrubbing her money, and giving her billions to you, you’ll never need to move cargo again. You certainly won’t need the space.”
Evelyn turned to watch Selena and Li in the galley, playing a game of Empire. “Billions? I didn’t need to move cargo with what I already had. Ever since you finished her sessions, that woman has been working around the clock to understand your model, wearing an interface during implant removal to do research, and peppering the crew with questions. Most of them we can’t answer; it’s humiliating.”
Selena made a move in the game, and Li straightened in surprise. The next sequence of moves gutted his defenses, and he exclaimed in protest. She laughed lightly in response. His disbelieving chuckle followed.
“And she crushes him in Empire, which he doesn’t seem to mind,” she continued. “I suppose if I got them working on the room upgrades, they’ll have something to share that doesn’t involve humiliation or mental exhaustion.”
“You can also start planning your woman cave.” Malik entered the bridge. James and Jenna sat at the helm and decoy stations. Furaha ran a practice program at the secondary navigational terminal while following a tutorial.
Evelyn laughed. “The whole ship is mine—I don’t need a cave.” She gazed toward the outside fire of the substrate. “You’re connected to some disturbing events. Is that troubling?”
He shrugged. “It’s solid information about me; my previous life was a lie. I think looking for more would be a misuse of our time.”
“What changed? Doesn’t the mystery of your past intrigue you?”
“It once did,” said Malik, pondering the view beyond the ports. “I’ve a certainty of approaching dangers but can occasionally sense other things. If I persevere on this path, the answers will come to me.”
60: Elusive
Day 926: Xist, Nalara, Cheonia
Serena passed through her throne room at an easy stride. Managing her nation had once been a matter of demanding intensity and expedient haste, but those qualities stopped being applicable when negotiations ended in failure during the war’s tenth month. The time leading to the disaster contributed their own damage, reducing the size of her nation from a territory to four counties. She had been resistant to yielding during the war, and her mirrored refusal to cheat meant she and her nation were double pariahs. Nalara was the rogue regime within the Coalition. None of the other twenty-five-thousand-plus nations would trade with her, and her offers to assist in the war as a straight combatant were rebuffed.
The net effect was notable; no trade representatives awaited in her throne room, war messengers remained at their posts, and the pace of advancements dropped to a trickle. A diminished nation meant a smaller capital city and fewer local representatives to present their requests. Food variety was slim, which dramatically lowered her people’s happiness. Fewer resources and no trade meant shortages of vital materials for building, research, and military equipment. Nalara’s pains were acute. Serena became creative.
Nation-level trade was forbidden with her nation, but citizen-level trade was unaffected. Serena was decidedly coy about the loophole. She encouraged trade fairs for her merchants, chose to diversify her nation’s primary crops to raise their attractiveness, planted new farms with seed stock purchased from surrounding nations, and marketed finished products to visiting traders. Raw materials were traded through other exchanges, and fresh derivative assemblies were created. Considering the surrounding player nations had turned absolutely uncreative and overly war-obsessed, her new products became lucrative exports. Profitable exchanges ensued. Her people received the foods they wanted, her industries were able to construct their goods, and everyone was happier and better off. She eventually raised her nation’s knowledge to pre-war levels.
One thing that was unfixable was the sense of isolation. Serena was shunned—banned from the alliance hall, alliance members were discouraged from visiting, and even messengers stopped coming. After covering the guilds and academies for the day, she removed herself to her balcony to finish the day alone.
A court messenger announced a visitor, and she barely acknowledged the notice. “Show him in.”
The guest’s footsteps stopped at the arch leading to her perch, and she relaxed in her seat. “They might disown you for coming.”
“No, they won’t,” said Darien, smirking. “I’m their best warrior. You don’t get rebuked if you fight.”
Serena chuckled. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. The day’s chores are done. I’m bored.”
“I had to put my time in. The last set of teleports and boosts took me beyond my planned exit.”
“Any luck?”
“Nope. He’s still beating us like a drum.”
“How long today?”
“Three hours fighting.” He sat and motioned for a beverage. “Cheonia has resumed the forward advance it maintained before the cheating. With only twelve cantons remaining, we have fewer troops to harness, and our selection of fighting zones must be carefully planned to cover them all. At least the membership is motivated—we have the people to cover the gaps generated by the additional front.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Serena dryly. “What has stoked their enthusiasm?”
“New whips,” replied Darien. “There are also fresh armors, potions, and spells, but the whips are incredible.”
“You’ve already tried whips; I recall them not working well.”
He paused to take the delivered ale. “The old whips worked great on his troops; we’d never actually tried them on him. It was known he was powerful; that was the best demonstration of his strength that I had ever seen. We’ve adjusted. The new whips will work.”
She motioned for an ale of her own. “If they’re as awesome as you say, why are you waiting? Corner him and get it over with.”
He looked at the city of Seranan, watching the hustle and bustle of the streets. “We can’t find him.”
“Have you tried the palace?”
Darien laughed in disgus
t. “Of course. Broke through the portal restrictions to a second layer of portal restrictions, which immediately ported us to traps. It was death, capture, and terror all over again. We found a way to defeat the second restriction along with several other protections, and then our attempts to breach the palace were redirected to the same, awful traps. When we finally discovered a method of defeating that diversion, we showed and he wasn’t present. We were then were caught in fresh traps. My nightmares won’t end.”
She straightened. “You could rush the palace like you did before, overcome the traps, and find him.”
He took a generous gulp of the beverage. “I’m not the only one with nightmares. People don’t mind capture if it means getting him, but not otherwise. We were once able to spot and track his avatars, but no more. He does the business of his empire without seemingly ever showing; neutral spotters are present all throughout Cheonia and still he isn’t seen. Everyone takes their roles at the front to slow his advance; it’d be a shame to finally locate him, diminish him, and then have no troops to support a counterattack. Sixteen cantons have been reduced to garrisons and their cultures obliterated—if we wait too long, there won’t be any lands to recover or troops to draft.”
“And he’s about to conquer three more cantons, squash rebellions in two others, and obliterate the cultures of another two.”
Darian grimaced. “We’ll lose a quarter of our available troops, while he only gets stronger.”
“You could surrender,” said Serena lightly, reaching for her drink.
“Funny,” he said. “This will be our alliance’s last chance. Surrender or not, they’ll never play the game again. I’m not certain they’d be able to play any of Xist’s games.”
“I’m certain you could regain access after paying a fine.”
He set his flagon on the stone table beside him. “We could, but twenty-thousand unis is a bit steep.”
Serena’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ouch. What do you suppose you’d gain if the whips worked? Why even bother? The same result follows.”