Merker's Outpost

by I. Christie

  "The documents are not available to just anyone. Most of what you have read was for private study by a select group of scientists interested in participating in the experiment when it first started up. In the beginning, test subjects were cadavers in all respects."

  "Right, right," she responded agitated. Like willing your brain to science so they can hook it up to a computer and make you immortal.

  "The more recent work," Guardian continued, "is by a group of scientists that are gathering data to present before the Counsel of Rings on the injustice of this practice. In six stan months, two groups of scientists will present their arguments, for and against the practice. The reason why it has not been made public is because no one wants to make it a media circus, or have metrapeople start disappearing for one reason or another and we don't want to see scientists disappear and reappear as metrapeople. There are already metrapeople on both sides arguing the case."

  "Bloody moons," Lt. Montran shook her head at the idea and with a tightness around her heart, thought of Sharon. Irritated, she gritted her teeth. She was still fighting acceptance that she was a metraperson. Yet…Sharon had her take out a life insurance policy with one of the companies. Damn the small print! Her consolation was in the middle of her research she had quickly sent a message off to her legal advisor to have her policy canceled, stating the reason. It also did not help with her suspicion about why Sharon would suggest it…unless she was programmed to. Chills along her arms caused her to not want to deal with that now. There were other issues with higher priorities.

  "So, was there something specific the captain wanted me to study?"

  "No."

  For a moment, she was silent as she thought of what types of people the metralabs were enslaving. If Alan was using violent personalities from closed planets for his soldiers, what was to prevent others from purchasing that type of personality for their own bodyguards…or assassins, or worse yet…for forming a private army that no one knew about until a planned time or event?

  "I need to read more of Iwilla's work where she talks about monitoring the dream states of her subjects. She believes it's in dreams where a hint of the erased personality still resides. However," Harriet pressed her fingertips to her tired eyes, "dreams are in symbols and codes that are unique to the person, no matter their culture. Translating them to know what type of person each metraperson was or can be is time consuming and iffy at best, not knowing if it's anger, fear or the true personality that is shadowed there. Even a psychtech will be on shaky ground determining what will the individual do with all that suppressed anger. And, no matter how much psych intervention, cells and muscles have memory and once the barrier is removed for all of them to interact occurs, there is going to be a lot of anger from the chatteled experience."

  Harriet 's eyes wandered to the monitors, trying to ignore the pain she felt for those that had been turned into metraslaves. "Where are the others?"

  "Maud is resting. Captain Zohra and Carol are on a recon mission. Freight from Spinner's Tale dropped far from its mark by nearly a days march from the original point. I've scrambled their locaters so it will be a while until they can locate where it is. We are grateful that you had given Carol permission to…be away from you."

  Harriet cocked her head to one side. "A test of my morals, aye?" she joked. "My intention remains firm, Guardian. I intend on helping her choose her future…free from pressure to join this group or that. I'm fully aware of her political importance because of her connection to Lord Chaney and of everyone that intends to use her for their own motives. It's one of the reasons I'm studying memory retrieval. I don't want to hinder her recovery."

  "It is a difficult job…to remain neutral while offering her alternatives."

  She nodded to the holograph, picking up on his subtle message. Changing the subject she remarked dryly, "Why am I not surprised about the misplaced freight, or is that your doing?"

  "No," Guardian returned, "Someone forgot to recalibrate the harmonics. When the winds sweep over the planet, it brings a different harmonics to the area. Captain Zohra wanted to see what was in the package, render it useless, and then harasses whoever picks it up."

  "Let's hope the captain has not bitten off more than she can chew, and find a troop surrounding them to lay claim to their toy." Harriet smiled. "But, then, once a Black Rose…always. They love the adrenalin rush of a life threatening challenge."

  "I do not believe that Captain Zohra is the type to take dangerous chances unless it is necessary."

  Harriet thought of the swagger in the captain's walk she observed on their walk back from the dojo. She was sure it was part of the Black Rose persona, which was part of her own personality now, or had she always had it? The memory of the dark figure performing the Dance, something that took a lot of athletic ability and endurance, made her smile.

  She has a good reason to be so self-confidant. She was in the Galactic Chronicles top ten list for the best in her class for seven stan years, due to her consistency to perform in her athletic competitions in the winning categories. I wonder why she gave up the star life for academy life…And then being a covert operator in a dangerous and suicidal group. Neither are like academy life. Come to think of it…there was a story of some of the athletes being addicted to the adrenalin rush and doing some really stupid stunts…but that was some years after she left. Is that why she joined the Black Rose…a need for an adrenalin rush? Gawds, I hope not.

  To refocus on the present, Harriet walked to one of the screens that showed a group of soldiers moving a weapon into position on an elevator. She noted there were fewer people moving around in the other screens.

  "Looks like an almost deserted city."

  "Except for the scattering of Spartans. Lord Chaney's ship has returned and some of the soldier's from his ship are about, and then there is Alan's group of soldiers that have arrived a few stan hours ago."

  "So…Alan is interested in this place." Harriet leaned forward staring at one of the screens, "That's a chantlin canon," Harriet muttered. She watched the figures struggling to set it on a moBot. It was deadly on the battlefield and in Merker's underground city's close quarters it would be devastating to the life support systems. It used sound waves directed at a specific target.

  "Yes, it appears to be one."

  "You need someone to know how to maintain it or you end up being on the receiving end."

  "That may be Ensign Everett on the Spinner's Tale," Guardian contributed. "Unless I know what sound wave will be emitted, I won't be able to shut it down before it does harm," Guardian agreed.

  "Right."

  "What do you suggest?"

  "Lock Everett up somewhere, first off, and then whoever else looks like they know how to handle it," she returned, half seriously.

  "Getting to him is going to be a problem since he never leaves the ship."

  "If he does not come down then there must be another tech. I mean, what does he plan on doing, call down the instructions? It's not that easy to sync them. They would be suicidal to have one tech. That elevator they're moving it down, where does it lead? I don't recall seeing one with that emblem on it."

  "It's the primary morgue elevator."

  "Ahh."

  She moved to the screen that showed the storage room next to the morgue.

  "Strange that they would choose one place to keep all their supplies including weapons. But then, right now that's a good idea with so few guards left."

  "The morgue area has its own life support system, like the laboratories in this section, to prevent anything that is being stored from contaminating the living spaces."

  "Ahh. So if anything goes off by accident, the occupants in the city would not be affected. I think a reconnaissance to the area is needed to do some inventorying."

  The lights in the adjacent conference room came on. A detailed map appeared on the wall.

  Harriet stepped into the meeting room and studied the large map. "Nice detail. Do you have cameras covering this loc
ation?" Her fingertip circled the area she was interested in.

  Enlarged shots of the area in question came up. Harriet watched the photos of the area, showing a pattern of traps laid and moved by various Black Rose soldiers. Absentmindedly she slid her empty cup onto the table behind her and crossed her arms in front of her.

  "It looks like they left a back door open for themselves. Odd they would do that on a smugglers' base. Most smugglers are always ready for a raid and focus on evacuation, not on defensive set-ups to recapture their den. This is where you sealed off their incursions into the rest of the city."

  "That is correct. Is this good for us?" Guardian asked.

  "I don't know. It could be that they wanted to be able to move as much of their supplies off the planet while they were being attacked and feared a back door attack…but, if that's the case why not more muscle power on their side?"

  Harriet sighed as she continued to study the pictures. "They must have an advantage besides the morgue storage area being self-contained. Are there maintenance tunnels or transportation tunnels near?"

  "Yes, to both."

  "Ahh."

  Timed clips came up and Harriet frowned as she watched the patterns change.

  "Helga's moon tides, but that bothers me. Why do they put all their eggs in one basket and not guard it as if they were serious about keeping it? You did say you've been after them for two years. Hmmm. At least they've been rotating the traps and settings on a regular basis, until this clip here. Whoa! Go back - yeah, yeah. Stop. Now, go slowly forward, I want to see who that is that changed the last one," she murmured.

  "I did."

  Harriet jumped physically from Captain Zohra's voice next to her. Exasperation that someone had been able to get that close to her without her being aware was overlapped with the all too pleasant shiver that her nearness sent up her spine. Mentally she rolled her eyes at her confused reactions, disgusted that she did not have more control.

  The captain flopped into a seat at the table. Fine powder from planet surface dusted the top of the table, as she crossed her booted feet above its shinny surface, resting her ankles on the corner of the tabletop. She leaned comfortably back in the chair that adjusted to her change of position. The energy in the room was noticeably changing as if… Harriet glanced at Carol and then back at Captain Zohra. The captain looked like at any moment she would pull out a thin dark brown smoker that most Spartan's favored. Harriet squinted to lose the image of Zohra sitting in a bar with curls of smoke rising from the thin rolled leaves of tobacco and simultaneously being blown out of her nose and mouth, coldly watching those in the room through her dark unreadable eyes.

  Carol's demeanor was quiet as she stood next to her Mistress. The same dust from the planet surface coated her outersuit, as if she had been crawling or laying in the stuff.

  "Captain Zohra, how did your job go?" Guardian asked amiably.

  "You monitor this place, check it out for yourself," the captain returned in a grouchy voice.

  Harriet's image of her Spartan in a bar dissipated quickly. Watching the captain carefully, she asked. "Is there something we need to know, Captain?"

  There was silence as Harriet studied the dark veiled eyes, sensing a struggle.

  The dark eyes blinked, then blinked again, and some of the tension in the room dissipated.

  "No," a low growl came out.

  "Is there something we need to worry about?" Harriet asked again, noting that the captain knew exactly what she was referring to.

  "No. Attitude is not a reflection on loyalty." She brought her feet to the ground with a solid thump smacking her palms on the table and sending the dust on the surface in different directions.

  Harriet imagined more red dust leaving an imprint on the floor where the boots dropped. Her ears caught the sound of a small bot scooting about. The tension in the room rose again. Harriet nodded. The soldier was edgy about something.

  "Can you tell us what to expect when we try to get into the supply room from here?" Harriet nodded to the screen she had been studying, changing the subject as a tactic to lower the tension.

  "You can't," she returned shortly.

  "There is always a way."

  "Not that way."

  "Studying another's defenses is never a waste of time," Harriet tried another tact. Or, is it just because it's your setup?

  "That is a good theory if you have the time. I set that as a permanent fixture, with no intention of anyone going back to reset it. We have another worry more important. In the package delivered out on the sands was a weapon with the mark of Alan's little elite group of soldiers…the black hand."

  Lt. Montran watched closely looking for anything that would give her a clue about her changed demeanor. There was definitely a different edgy type of energy around her.

  "That means Alan has something planned and it's starting now. We need to make our own plans. These soldiers must not get any permanent foot hold on this outpost."

  "They moved a chatlin cannon down to the supply room next to the morgue," Harriet informed her.

  "So…" Captain Zohra's eyes narrowed as she thought, "that would mean he has at least twelve of his soldiers here." She grinned up at Harriet. "Alan in his obsession to control keeps track of his minions via transmitter. Captain Miller procured the wave length and I…just so happen to also have that code. It's in my quarters in the city."

  "Carol would be a good back-up to take along, since she knows the city as well as you," Guardian mentioned. "Meanwhile, Lt. Montran and I will monitor any more troop arrivals and their movements."

  Carol looked at Harriet hesitantly. Harriet nodded and smiled. Well, looks like I'm back to attending to the planning table.

  Captain Zohra had already started out the door and Carol moved to fall in behind her.

  After reading the information on metrapeople, she was relieved that Carol was not being compelled with pain to wait for her to order her around…or she was hoping she was not. This meant that the chip's discipline had to be reinstated by the new owner. It made sense. Each new owner would have different rules and needs. Harriet closed her eyes for a moment as she let the guilt that she had been tempted to claim her wash over her.

  "You aren't buying the captain's story about entering from that side?" Guardian asked.

  Harriet cleared her throat pulling her attention back to present priorities. "I believe nothing is as it seems." Harriet turned from the screen and smiled at the holographic image of Guardian.

  "She's right about the time factor, but…" Montran, you're not thinking of trying to bust her setup out of pride are you? This is not a good time to get involved in an ego contest.

  "I don't believe she is hiding anything about that area. The life support systems monitor it," Guardian explained.

  "Okay. It would be a lot simpler to approach the supply room from this side then from the side where we would run into guards that are alert to visitors," she reasoned. "I can handle traps, even those set for permanency. With your suits ability to blend in it would be even easier, but I'm not willing to give away that secret yet." Well, that's one advantage in my favor. No one knows what I've been trained on for the last five years. Thank you Commander Neilson for your insistence I keep up my infantry skills, though, I didn't do so good on some. But, I think I've proven I can be trouble. She grinned. Just a little rusty, but I'm a quick learner.

  "Are you two going to be able to work together?" he asked doubtfully.

  He must have picked up on the captain's bios too. So, my sensitivity to others is picking up again. Must be the heat of the battle or something…something meaning this planet? For a moment, she pursed her lips remembering her increased sensitivity to those in the room and then how it lessened. Well, for whatever the cause of this increased sensitivity, it's fluctuating, so I guess it's here to stay. Should settle soon.

  She turned her attention back to the screen.

  "I think we can," she told Guardian thoughtfully. "I can't expect her to sudde
nly drop a façade she's used all these years for survival. It's annoying, but I've spent enough time with prickly personality types to be able to adjust to it. It just caught me off guard," she muttered as an afterthought.

  "Well, the two ships that have joined the other two, are bringing down supplies," Guardian announced.

  Shortly later, both watched the military movement that had picked up on one screen that was focused on one of the city's entrances.