Seven Devils

by Laura Lam

  “He seems nice,” Ariadne said.

  Eris ignored that. “Onwards to Ismara, I guess,” she said. “Clo, make sure you scan the planet for military craft before we hit the atmosphere. If there’s extra security guarding the ichor, we’ll need to be careful about touching down. Ariadne, you’re in charge of the pilot. Wake him up and get him deprogrammed.”

  Ariadne wilted.

  * * *

  —

  “I don’t want to do this,” Ariadne said as she watched Cato through the screen of the medical center. He was still unconscious from the anaesthesia Rhea had given him earlier. “Not after what we went through with Nyx.”

  I don’t want it to be like Nyx, she thought, staring at his prone form. Please don’t let it be like Nyx.

  She’d hurt Nyx—so many, many times. All to get that tangled web of programming from her brain. Ariadne had hated every moment of it. Hated making decisions when all she wanted to do was soothe the other woman’s pain.

  “I wish you didn’t have to, love,” Rhea said, shoulder brushing hers. Despite her anxiety and nerves, Rhea’s touch calmed Ariadne.

  “I don’t like hurting people.”

  “It’s to save Cato,” Rhea reminded her gently. “Like you saved Nyx.”

  Even Rhea’s touch couldn’t stop Ariadne from stiffening. “And if it kills him?” Rhea fell silent, and Ariadne let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know if he can even be deprogrammed. You remember how it was with Nyx. She’d already pushed the Oracle’s influence to the surface, and the process still almost killed her.” Ariadne shook her head. “He’s not going to be easy.”

  “Could you forgive yourself if we didn’t try?” Rhea asked Ariadne, voice low.

  “No.” Never.

  “Then you know what we have to do.”

  Ariadne shut her eyes briefly, steeling herself. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.” She patted Rhea’s lower back, where she’d stored Nyx’s spare Mors since finding the pilot. “But leave that, please. I don’t want him to view us as more of a threat than he already does.”

  “You can do this,” Rhea said, setting the Mors on the counter. “And I’m here. I’ll help.”

  Ariadne sighed, and they opened the door to the med center. She checked the monitor; Cato’s vitals were all normal, his neuroimaging showing the routine patterns of dreaming. “Make sure his restraints are secure,” Ariadne said. “I’m going to wake him up and prepare him for what’s about to happen.”

  “He won’t like it,” Rhea said gently. “Not with Oracle in his head.”

  “I have to try.”

  They began the slow process of waking Cato up. Rhea gave him a reversal agent to counteract the effects of the anaesthesia, as well as another blocker to keep his adrenaline in check.

  Cato muttered as he came out. Medical terms, snapped instructions for surgery. He requested a Mors blade, something that could cleanly cut through bone. Directions on holding the gauze in place to stanch bleeding. All of his statements were detailed enough that both Ariadne and Rhea looked at each other, baffled. Tholosian soldiers might receive rudimentary training in first aid, but usually they were bred for one main task. Fighting or flying, and usually dying.

  He was a pilot, not a medic. Wasn’t he?

  Cato’s face grimaced with pain, his hands pulling against the restraints as he muttered “stop, stop, stop” under his breath.

  “Cato?” Ariadne whispered.

  His eyes slowly opened, then shut hard at the light overhead. It took a few moments for him to gain his bearings, take in his restraints. Gods, he recovered fast. Ariadne had heard the Rigel cohort was an impressive feat of engineering. His gaze was sharp, no longer dulled from the anaesthesia.

  “Ugh,” Cato muttered. “What did you do to me?”

  Ariadne tried to keep her face pleasant, but she was still getting used to expressions others saw regularly, and she thought she might be holding her eyes open too wide and not blinking enough. “Gave you a sedative while your Mors burn healed and your infection cleared,” she said brightly. “You spoke in your sleep. A bunch of medical stuff. I thought you were a pilot.”

  His expression flickered. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “How long have I been out?”

  “A day and a bit. We’re pretty far from Macella.” Thank the gods. Ariadne’s stomach was still unsettled from jumping, but Clo was coasting the ship and letting the engine rest before the next leg of their long journey to Ismara.

  “Don’t suppose you’ll drop me off at the nearest outpost.” At Ariadne’s headshake, Cato made a face and tested his restraints again. “Look, your fucked up friend mentioned giving me a choice back there in the interrogation room. I choose to leave this ship, go to the nearest outpost, and—” He let out a breath and muttered, “and get raging drunk.”

  “But you don’t choose,” Ariadne reminded him. “Not really. You don’t realize how deep the Oracle is in your brain.” At his doubtful look, Ariadne leaned back and crossed her arms. “All right. You came in from debriefing after your last mission and before you were asked to fly to Myndalia, right?”

  Cato looked a little wary. “Yeah, but it was routine.”

  “You slept in the palace overnight?”

  “Yes.” His voice was tighter.

  “Plugged into your sleep cycling like usual?”

  Silence.

  Ariadne lifted her shoulders, then dropped the intonations. “The Oracle’s influence is so subtle that you didn’t even notice One’s voice is my own.” Even. Genial. Inhuman. “For the glory of Tholos. I give my life for Thee. I give my body for Thee. In the name of the God of Death, I kill for Thee. In Thy name.”

  His mouth fell open. Beside him, Rhea shifted uncomfortably—she didn’t like when Ariadne used that monotone. None of them did. Ariadne had spent years being the Oracle’s voice. Spent years hearing it give her orders. Her voice was not her own—not since she’d made the mistake of giving it to One.

  “You’re a convincing mimic,” Cato said, clenching his jaw. “I see why the Novantae could use you.”

  “Not a mimic.”

  He made some noise, almost like a laugh. “Fine. Let’s say I believe you. Why would a child be the Oracle’s voice?”

  “Flat intonation,” Ariadne said, still using the voice. “One trained me in it. Doesn’t sound little. Doesn’t sound like a child. And if you call me either again, I’m going to electrocute your brain and leave you here in a vegetative state.” She kept her Oracle voice to make the words all the more jarring.

  She could tell it unsettled him. His shoulders were tense, his body straining. If it weren’t for that blocker in his system, the Oracle would have completely overtaken him by now.

  “No offense, you seem like a nice enough ch”—at her glare, he amended—“girl. But I don’t trust you. How do I know you’re not going to mess with my mind? Put some rebel bullshit up there?”

  “How about I tell you a story?” she said, still in the Oracle’s voice to unnerve him, as she leaned forward and gently placed electrodes on his forehead. “The co-commander of the Novantae and I got to talking when I fed her information. She told me she had known she was a woman since she was very young, but the Oracle kept trying to suppress those thoughts. One had assigned her male before birth, and programmed her to be hyper-masculine. The AI considers One’s decisions to be infallible.”

  “The Oracle is infallible,” Cato said flatly.

  Ariadne leaned forward, dropping the Oracle’s intonation. “No. Don’t you see? The Oracle forces people into neat little boxes because One only understands order. But humans are messy. We are not binary; we don’t exist in ones and zeroes. This or that. My friend was strong enough to keep pushing back—to recognize the Oracle was trying to change her very identity—but most don’t. She became who she always knew she was after casting off the Oracl
e’s chains.”

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head sharply. “No. I already know who I am.”

  The machine beeped. Rhea frowned at a small spike in his vitals.

  Ariadne tried a more soothing voice. “One will try to blunt your curiosity, but I’m guessing there’s still something there that wants to be sure that’s the case without the Oracle’s programming. You’re not a machine, Cato.”

  “No,” he repeated, straining against his bonds. The machine behind him beeped once more. His pulse was spiking again.

  Not good.

  Rhea rested a hand on Cato’s forearm as she searched the drawer behind her for the injection in case they needed to calm him again.

  “It’s all right,” Ariadne said. “Your mind will be your own, Cato.” She’d slipped back into the Oracle’s tones, hoping it would calm him. “You’ll be able to choose what life you want to lead.”

  He shook his head again. “Stop.”

  “Cato.” Ariadne kept her voice low as his heart began to speed up. The machine’s beeping was a jarring echo in the room. “Cato, keep calm.”

  He shook his head wildly, the electrodes stark against his reddening skin. “Stop it.” He was breathing hard. “Stop it stop it stop it.”

  Rhea inched closer, the injection in hand. “It’s okay.” She reached out to slide the needle into his arm. “I’m just going to—”

  He jerked away, the chair shifting a few inches. His eyes bulged, veins appeared at his temple. “I’m not going to turn against my people,” he snarled.

  Before Ariadne could blink, Cato broke through his bonds, pulling the wires from his head. His hands were around her throat, squeezing, squeezing. The Oracle was strong, even cut off from the larger server and the implant. Ariadne was no match for his berserker strength.

  He slammed her into the floor.

  “The Gods favor the strong,” he said, tightening his fingers. Stars burst in Ariadne’s vision as she struggled to breathe. “The Gods favor the strong. I am of Tholos, Tholos is me. We are Tholos. Letum, Bel, Rem, Salutem, Phobos, Algea, and Soter. Letum, God of Death, I offer myself to Thee. I willingly go to the Avern. For glory. For—”

  Rhea leaped onto Cato’s back to shove the needle into his arm, but he threw her off. The injection skidded across the floor and disappeared under the heavy cabinet. “Godsdamn it!”

 

 

  Cato was raving, lost to his programming. “Letum, Bel, Rem, Salutem, Phobos, Algea, and Soter. Letum, God of Death, I offer myself—”

  Rhea clapped both of her hands over his cheeks and forced his head up. “Cato!” Her voice seemed to echo, as if from afar. “Sleep!”

  The massive man dropped like a stone. His hands loosened around Ariadne’s neck, but his bulk was on her slight frame. “Still . . . can’t . . . breathe,” Ariadne rasped.

  Rhea started pulling Cato off of her, and the door opened. Nyx and Eris rushed in. “What the flames?” Eris demanded.

  “Help me,” Rhea urged.

  Nyx and Eris grasped Cato under his arms, and all three of them managed to roll him off the smaller girl. Ariadne crawled to freedom and air, sucking deep breaths into her lungs. What had happened? Had Rhea . . .

  Rhea caught her eye, gave an infinitesimal shake of her head. A plea.

  Nyx snatched Ariadne by her arms. “Are you okay?” She stared at Ariadne’s neck where the red welts were starting to form from Cato’s grip. By tomorrow, they’d be bruises. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

  “No,” Ariadne managed. Her voice was hoarse. “He couldn’t help himself. I doubt he’ll even remember it.”

  “I don’t give a damn—if we can’t even keep him bound—”

  “Ari’s right, Nyx,” Rhea said. “We can keep him sedated. Even the thought of him having a choice triggered some programming. I didn’t realize it was embedded that deeply in some soldiers.”

  Eris grunted in affirmation. “When we do deprogramming at Nova, a lot of them don’t survive the procedure.”

  Rhea shut her eyes and nodded. “Even Nyx’s was . . . difficult.”

  “Difficult,” Nyx said. “Nice word for it. Felt like being dragged through the fucking fires of Avern.” She gestured to Cato’s prone form. “Even just trying to cut the Oracle’s programming makes you feel like someone is stabbing you through the skull. If he makes it, I’ll be shocked.”

  “Nyx,” Rhea chastised.

  “What? Just being honest.”

  Soldier cohorts were programmed more intimately to one another. Taking away that connection would be difficult for anyone, but Ariadne suspected that Cato’s coding was going to be different from what she’d seen before. He was from the Rigel cohort; like Nyx, they had been present at the Battle of the Garnet. The Oracle had been making upgrades to some in that group—especially ones who had shown signs of trauma from the battle.

  He had medical training. His sleep mutterings had shown that clear enough. What had he done to get demoted to a cargo pilot?

  Nyx still gripped Ariadne’s arms, her fingers trembling. “Nyx,” Ariadne whispered. “I’m okay.”

  Nyx jerked away. “Right. Good.”

  Ariadne opened her mouth but Eris spoke first. “How’d you knock him out, Rhea?” she asked. “I saw on the screens that the injection went under the cabinet.”

  A pause. “I think he must have short-circuited or something,” Rhea said. She flickered her gaze briefly to Ariadne’s. “He just . . . dropped.”

  Ariadne gave a nod despite her confusion. But Rhea wanted her to stay quiet, so she would. Whatever secret Rhea kept was her own to tell. Or hers to keep.

  They injected Cato with another hormone blocker and gave him an additional sedative. “Get comfortable,” Ariadne told the others as she hooked Cato up to the monitoring machine once more. “I’m going to map out a neuroimage of his programming. It’ll take a while.”

  She started running diagnostics, squinting at her tablet. The room around her disappeared. She focused only on the code. The puzzle to be solved. She had no idea if anyone came in and out of the room, if the others spoke to her at all. She descended so completely into the abstract. It was easier than thinking about how she could so easily fry this man’s brain.

  She guessed Cato was around thirty. As a Rigel, he’d have been sent into the field at sixteen. Years of death in the far reaches of the galaxy, and he’d found a way to come back to the Three Sisters. That said to her that he didn’t love the killing. That he wanted something more. Or, as she suspected, something had gone wrong.

  Eventually, Ariadne looked up. Her eyes burned, her head throbbed from solving different equations and writing code in her head.

  The others came to attention at Ariadne’s exaggerated stretching. Cato was still unconscious, the wires emerging from his head like the coiled branches of a karya tree.

  “Everything okay?” Rhea asked.

  Ariadne nodded. “I just gave him a reversal agent. He’ll be waking up in a few moments,” she said, gently binding Cato’s limbs once more. She’d left him untied during deprogramming, but Nyx and Eris held their weapons at the ready. Rhea kept one finger on the pilot’s skin.

  No injection. It had skidded somewhere.

  Rhea had touched him while he was strangling Ariadne.

  And Cato had dropped.

  Ariadne studied Rhea. Her mind was still in problem-solving mode, her memory sharpening. Rumors she’d found floating through the palace tore at the edges of her awareness. She’d read reports of DNA mapping to an unnamed person in the palace. Diagnostics. The Oracle took the lead on that project. Ariadne had planned to find out who it was before she left the palace. She’d wanted to tell Kyla . . .

  That subject could have knocked a soldier out cold with one touch.

  Is that
your secret? Ariadne wanted to ask. Were you some experiment, made to be a weapon like Nyx?

  Rhea caught her glance and swallowed. As if Rhea had read her mind—could she?—she mouthed, Later. Promise.

  Ariadne nodded, despite her unease. She was used to keeping secrets.

  Cato groaned, his eyes opening. “You put me under again?” he asked, trying to sit up but stopped by the bonds.

  “You tried to kill me,” Ariadne said, turning on the bright charm. “I was tempted to electrocute you like I promised, but I showed great restraint.”

  “I appreciate that,” Cato said, shaking off his grogginess. It seemed to take him a little longer this time to come to awareness.

  When he did, his gaze fell to the marks on her neck. Ariadne heard his short intake of breath.

  “Your stress response activated the Oracle,” Ariadne explained. “I gave you a blocker and we removed your implant before we took off, but I figured we should talk before I start properly deprogramming.” She tapped her tablet. “I’ve got your entire neuroprogramming mapped out right here. It’s deep, but I think I can deactivate it.”

  He shook his head, looking sick. “No. It’s my duty to house One, to move in tandem with my fellow soldiers.”

  Nyx rolled her eyes. “You’re being used, you damn fool. We all were.”

  “Nyx is right,” Eris said, her voice quiet. Cato’s head swiveled to her, noticing her for the first time. “The Oracle’s programming makes you believe that free will is a detriment.”

  “I know my history,” Cato said. “Before the Oracle, the Archon was in constant danger of a coup, and any one of them would have shattered the Empire. The Oracle gives us all a collective purpose. I don’t want free will.”

  Eris scoffed. “Oh, please. Yesterday in that interrogation room, you could have let the cold kill you before giving me those codes.” Her voice was low as she quoted the Oracle’s programming: “Death before dishonor. You had one small window of choice, and you didn’t choose the Empire.”

  Cato had gone paler. Nyx, too, was stiff and unblinking. Months before, when Ariadne and Rhea had unpicked the last of her programming, there had been a close call. Nyx had almost been lost. Ariadne wondered if Nyx had fully forgiven the two of them for pulling her back from the brink.