Innocence Lost

by O. J. Lowe

  “Are you out of your mind, Rocastle?” That voice was rough, angry. Like the speaker had gargled sandpaper.

  Harvey cackled. “Not even close. I’m seeing things clearly for the first time. I know what I need. I know what you can do for me.”

  “We said nobody who’s going to be missed!”

  “And sweeping up street scum in hope is why you haven’t found anyone who matches the profile!” He sounded outraged, petulant even. She knew that tone all too well. It was the voice he used when he was determined to get his way and to hells with the consequences. “With a venture like this, you need some prime material. Not the shitty little people nobody else gives a crap about. You want to make a deluxe meal, you use premier ingredients and I bet the Mistress would agree with me.”

  “You’ve not heard the last of this, Rocastle. The Mistress is going to be furious with you despite what you seem to think. You broke her rules, she’s a real bossy bitch over stuff like that.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps I might get rewarded beyond my wildest dreams for doing what you fuckers couldn’t! You ever think about that? What’s more valued? People who say they can’t? Or people who just do it? I’ll let you think about that.” She heard him cackle with laughter. “And maybe I won’t repeat to her what you think of her. I’m sure she’s the sort who’ll laugh along with you over it.” The laughter stopped, the mirth in Harvey’s voice fading to be replaced with grim certainty. “Or maybe she’ll have you beaten to death. I’ve never seen it happen before, I get a little excited over the thought if I’m honest. Little dribble’s creeping out in me kecks, you know.”

  “You’re disgusting, Rocastle.”

  They’d stripped her, shaved her beautiful hair away until she was balder than an egg, strapped her down to the table, secured her wrists, neck and ankles. She felt cold and exposed, the table hard against her back. She didn’t know where she was, just that she wasn’t alone, two uniformed guards stood across the room from her. If she tilted her head, she could just about see them. They both had weapons, but not ready to use on her. They looked relaxed. Calm. They couldn’t see her being a threat and they were right. She gave a token struggle against her restraints, didn’t feel them give even an inch. They couldn’t even be bothered to give her their attention. For the first time in her life, she felt like she didn’t matter.

  That bothered her more than being captured if she was honest, she knew it was strange but the disconnect between them and her troubles was the most unsettling thing about it all. This wasn’t normal. There’d been a kidnapping attempt on her some years earlier, that had been entirely different to this. They’d tried, they’d not even gotten close to her. She’d thanked the Divines for incompetence, as well as the interference from Unisco. She realised she’d give anything for one of their agents to charge through the door right now, a blaster in hand and murder

  Then there’d been the doctor, he stepped across to her, a grin on his face. She wanted to spit, show some defiance. Nothing. The fight had gone out of her, she knew it even if she didn’t want to admit it. Her entire body felt relaxed, she wondered if she could feel the chemicals already flooding through her if she closed her eyes and just let her mind open up to all the possibilities ahead.

  “Now then, my dear,” the doctor said, running a gloved hand over her body. “Thall we thtart?”

  She wanted to beg and plead him to let her go, she knew it’d likely do little good, but she had to try. What would happen if she didn’t? Her mouth wouldn’t work, she’d already been warned she’d be gagged if she started screaming. Somehow, she doubted it was something they were bluffing over. Those who’d kidnap wouldn’t hesitate to make her life worse. No, more than that, she realised then, her life as she’d known it was over. She’d never go back. Either she’d die here, or she’d be whatever they made her.

  The pain. So much of it and unending. Being flayed was horrible. What they’d done to her while her skin was off, that was worse. They’d tried to keep her under as long as possible while doing it, they’d professed that they weren’t monsters after all. She didn’t believe them. She couldn’t. Anyone normal wouldn’t be able to do this to another human being. It could have been minutes. It could have been weeks.

  People had to be looking for her. They had to be. Sooner or later, they’d find her. They’d find her, and they’d save her. Unisco would be on it,

  Days ran together, she slept for weeks and was awake for months it felt, forced to stay conscious until she couldn’t tell which of her captors were real and which were figments of the twisted images running through her mind. Fire burned through her veins, iron through her muscles. Alien blood made her stomach twitch, her skin scald until she was ready to cry so hard her ducts would shatter. Then the chills would set in, she’d go from fire to ice and she wouldn’t be able to feel her extremities through the cold. Maybe she was dead, and this was punishment. Sometimes they’d pull a helmet over her head and bombard her with sights and images, try to make her feel things she’d never felt before and likely never would again. Some of it took, she knew that, others felt like they’d had no effect. That worried her, she wondered how much of it was her own opinion, how much of it was what they’d made her.

  She hadn’t led a bad life. Never intended to. Nobody was perfect though. Some things felt trivial at the time but later, they mattered more than anyone could realise.

  She’d always wondered about the woman long before she’d known her name, the doctor with the lisp had deferred to her, even Harvey had shown up and shown the same submissive streak, she’d never seen him act like that around a woman in all the time she thought she’d known him. She had to be in her forties, showing signs of her age, hints of grey creeping into the chocolate of her hair, and when she turned towards her, she saw a stone embedded in her wrist, the light winking off it, twinkling happily at her.

  “She’s awake?” she asked of the doctor who nodded at her. “Good. Good.” She turned to look at Harvey. “Untie her.”

  “Mistress?” he asked. “Are you sure that’s…?”

  “Do not ask me if you feel my opinion is wise,” she said quietly. “I’m still not happy with you. You know what my displeasure already cost you.” Out the corner of her eye, she could see Harvey walked with a limb, that bit of knowledge she found interesting, his step uneven compared to what it once had been, his footstep heavier than before. Were her senses improving? It certainly felt that way, she’d awoken to the scents of chemicals, a tang of body odour she could have done without experiencing. “Do not assume I’ll be any more lenient with you a second time.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh, she saw the look of hurt on Harvey’s face as he fiddled with the restraints, hurt replaced with anger and he slapped her, one of his fat hands cracking off her face with a sound akin to a whip and she winced, glared at him. Too late she realised any pain had been beyond her notice, the slap hadn’t hurt as much as he’d meant it to. Sure, her face stung but already it was fading.

  “All you got?” she asked, the words clumsy and uneven, her tongue felt alien in her mouth. “Bitch!”

  Harvey had reacted the way she’d expected him to, had spun on his heel and driven his fist hard into her mouth, she’d felt teeth shatter, blood dribble down her cheek. Still no pain, not as she’d expected. She touched the gap in her teeth with her tongue, some part of her still dismayed at the way he’d just ruined her smile, tried to fight the urge to react as she felt something hard forcing its way through the gum already. It didn’t feel as if her cut were bleeding any longer either.

  “Huh, guess it took,” Harvey said, looking back at the woman. “How about that.” She saw what he was going to do, the most miniscule twitches in his body and he went to hit her again. This time though, she’d already decided she wouldn’t let him, ripped her arm free of the restraints he’d already loosened, caught his wrist and started to squeeze, somewhat aware of the way her mouth was contorting into a manic grin. He tried to pull away, his eyes wide with fea
r, little moans of pain slipping from him, it only made her hold him tighter. She’d rip his arm off if she could, would enjoy beating him to death with it.

  “Let him go, Apex,” the woman said, and it was as like hearing the voice of Gilgarus, the notion of disobeying didn’t even pass through her head, she didn’t know if she could even think about it, just let go of Harvey as quickly as she’d grabbed him. Apex, huh? The name didn’t sound familiar, not back then. Now though, it felt like the only one she’d ever answer to, each time she found herself involuntarily responding to it was like a knife to the heart. The knife wouldn’t even kill her now, thanks to what the Mistress had done, made her a mockery of humanity, a good little flesh and blood endroid to do whatever she said.

  One day, she’d get it. One day, they all would.

  She’d been following them for days. The two of them she’d encountered outside the stadium. They were Unisco, she wanted to know what they knew. Taking them would have been easy. Stalking them was harder. They were both highly trained. In different ways though, observing them had told her that. The man was like a dog. Aware but trained to be aware. Confident if misguided. He didn’t quite know the threats he faced but he’d rush in regardless and he’d probably end up bitten for it.

  The woman though, she was different. If he was a dog, she was a lioness, an imperious presence who knew what she faced but didn’t care. She’d see the challenges, she wouldn’t be beaten by them. She’d be the trickier to deal with. How people acted when they thought they weren’t being observed said a lot about them.

  Finding this place hadn’t been tricky, she’d beaten the information out of a shopkeeper. He’d tried to put up a fight but only briefly. He might live if he got the treatment, had lapsed into unconsciousness after giving her the information. She’d gotten the rifle, had been watching the cabin for minutes now, setting herself. They’d put her through the same systems they put the clones and the angels through. All the combat training. None of the experience. None of it was real. It was all in her head. She believed she could do it, she’d been conditioned to do it, therefore she could.

  Her rifle was an old Femble, one of the projectile ones rather than an energy-based weapon. They were a lot harder to get hold of. Especially in these circumstances. The Burykian government weren’t wanting to let the population arm themselves in case Coppinger turned her attention to them. These things were easy to buy, most people who had them wanted rid of them. They still killed very effectively.

  She studied the two of them through the crosshairs on the scope, their impressions gave that it had been a productive trip. The man had a box under his arm. He looked thoughtful, her excited. The woman was going to be the one to die first. Everything about her gave off bad vibes. She couldn’t explain it, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.

  Line it up with her head, wait for her to stop, wait for the wind to die away and then pop her. She wouldn’t see it coming. Adjust, put the man down while he was trying to work out what had happened. Maybe his reactions would save him for a few moments more, but he was marked. It wasn’t reasonable to expect him to stand there and be hit. He’d duck down, find cover.

  In the next few seconds, two things happened. She lined up the sight on the woman’s head, saw the target turn to look in her direction. Her face lit up in a smile, she shook her head playfully. Before the shock could register, her summoner rang, and she dropped her hand down to silence it before it gave away her position. She wasn’t so far away enough that it would go unnoticed. Maybe, just maybe they’d mistake it for the call of a bird if it was a solitary trill.

  “Yes?” Her voice no longer sounded familiar to her. They cut her open, stitched the medical webbing to her muscles, given her transfusions, some of those had been on her throat and it hadn’t been the same since. Doctor Hota had explained all of this to her in very simple terms, he’d drunk in her despair. Finding herself a stranger could only be expected.

  “You have not returned to base,” the emotionless voice said. Not Rocastle. He didn’t do composure like that. He was like a fire. He had to take everything to extremes. “You have not been assigned a mission. Cease whatever you are doing, return to base immediately.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She was on the verge of telling him what she was about to do. Two dead Unisco agents had to be worth a delay.

  The memories flooded through her. They hadn’t given her an order to exterminate. She had no bounds to do so. She didn’t owe them anything. Not after what they’d done to her. Why should she volunteer to help push their agenda?

  Maybe, one day, Unisco might be able to help her break free of them. The lump at her chest felt heavy. More than anything, she wanted to tear it away and fling it into the forest. She feared what would happen if she did.

  Maybe. One day. For now, she’d play their game.

  “At once,” she said. She got to her feet, put the rifle away over her back. “I’ll report to you when I get back. My apologies. It won’t happen again.”

  “Best see that it doesn’t. We don’t want to have to teach you a lesson now, do we?” Only an implied threat but it chilled her blood. She might be strong, she might be almost invulnerable, but they knew how to hurt her.

  They’d created her after all. Nobody made a weapon they couldn’t control. Even loose cannons were eventually tied down, they might harm all around them but sooner rather than later, they’d be secured down again. She had no illusions the same would come to pass for her. They’d gotten her after all, they’d made her strong and unbreakable, at least in her body. In her mind though, she’d been shattered, she could feel the fragments of her psyche rattling every time they made her do another horrific thing against her will.

  Chapter Thirteen. Into the Green.

  “What qualities do we need in our team? Experts, man, experts in whatever we may face! We are to be the first scientific team to enter the place. Only the best should be involved. Or at least, the best we have available. Me. You. My assistant, Ms Aubemaya. Get Suchiga… Yes, I know he’ll not want to go but it’s our job to persuade him. His expertise will be vital. Brown, well, yes, he’s a weed but again, he’s our weed. Whomever Brendan brings as well, damn the man. He flutters back into our life and demands every consideration! Find a doctor as well, just to keep the bastards upstairs happy.”

  Alex Fazarn to Shane Bryce ahead of the expedition into the Green engulfing Vazara.

  Wilsin remembered.

  There’d been that moment before they’d entered the jungle when they’d studied it from a distance and he’d been impressed by the sheer majesty of it all. He’d never seen true jungle before. A lot of it had vanished from Vazara years since, cut down and built upon. The people back then hadn’t considered the impact of that. Small wonder that they were considered savages, a stereotype that had never faded with time.

  Brendan had pulled him aside, moved over to the back of one of the hover wagons they’d brought out. He didn’t look his normal self; the weather had been growing warmer and warmer the longer they’d been here and Wilsin couldn’t wait to get back to somewhere cooler. It hadn’t been this bad on Carcaradis Island, he’d stake a claim on that, or perhaps he hadn’t noticed it as much. King’s skin had been bronzed the colour of aged walnuts, his eyes hidden behind sunshades but still there was no mistaking the intensity through them.

  “David,” he’d said. “We aren’t in a good situation here.”

  An understatement, Wilsin had thought at the time. Regret had never set about him on a mission. Everything he did, he’d always done for the greater good. He’d tried to follow that path. You couldn’t work for Unisco without questioning your moral compass sometimes. All it took was the conviction to know that every decision was not an easy one. None could be taken lightly. Coming to Vazara under these circumstances weighed on him. They’d be shot as spies if they were caught. Him. Brendan. Everyone with them. They’d be guilty by association. That was a burden to bear. They couldn’t afford to be caught
out in a lie of their own making.

  “Okay, sir,” he said. “Uh, Brendan, sir.” Years of Unisco had ingrained a healthy respect for the chain of command into him. Adapting was tricky, not in public but in private. Brendan had insisted. A slip in private could just as easily happen where people could hear them and then the game would be up. “I hear you.”

  They’d seen Vazara on their way to the edge of the Green. Not the parts that the tourist videos showed. The real Vazara They didn’t focus on places like this, with good reason. They didn’t come for the squalid conditions and the poverty, to see the desperation in the eyes of people they considered lesser than them. It had never been good, it looked worse than ever now. Humanitarians would have wept had they seen some of the sights Wilsin had on their journeys through the kingdom. People came to Vazara for the sun, the small parts of luxury they could afford and the deference from the natives. Those were on the cities towards the outskirts of the kingdom. A slip, he realised. That had been the cities on the outskirts of the kingdom. Anyone who came here for a break now would be risking their lives. Mazoud had seen to that. Overnight he’d declared that foreign tourists were no longer welcome in his kingdom and that any Vazarans who’d left were invited to return to make their kingdom great.

  He’d branded them race traitors, those who hadn’t come back. Warned them if they hadn’t come back when asked, they best not return later. They weren’t wanted. Their betrayal outranked anything they might bring to the kingdom. The same had gone for those who’d worked for companies based in other kingdoms, the hotels and the transport divisions. They’d been rounded up, locked away, publicly mutilated. Mazoud had ordered they give their left hands for the kingdom, given they’d spent so long making sure the credits went somewhere other than Vazara.