System Seven

by Parks, Michael

“That is not my choice.” He set the wine down and pulled his sweater close. “I’m tired, nothing more. Focus on what’s important, Sean. Keep the bràthair on task, on their toes. I’ll hold my own and go if and when I need to.”

  The creak of flooring signaled Johan’s rising. He appeared from the hall looking worn.

  “Found her.” He sat at the couch and took up a bottle and glass. “I’ve trained two bràthair with a screen they can follow from as long as they stay quiet. Two at a time.”

  Cathbad didn’t approve. “Relying on your new techniques is dangerous. You can’t be sure they won’t find them.”

  Johan paused mid-pour. “It’s that or have them rounded up by riders. They’ve cordoned half-mile around the boat and are scanning miles further. Besides, it’s not that different than the folding they’ve been doing. Better, I think.”

  Sean shook his head. “Great. Maria’s reinforced and now she’s covered. She’s been made. Has to have been.”

  “Anything’s possible.” Johan set the bottle down and lifted his glass. “The riders around the boat are to be expected if he’s coming. And yes, it may also be a trap. They’ve got an AG out looking around. Anything near her ship will be suspect, in the water or air. I’ll go back and join the monitoring if you’re uncomfortable with it. It’s the best I can do. Otherwise, they may hide Bastion’s approach too well and we’ll miss the opportunity.”

  “There’s a few satellites that touch that area,” Sean said. “I’m checking what’s available.”

  “That’s fine but we need to monitor things up close right now. I trust Austin is ready to go?” Johan drank, painfully aware Cathbad was in bad shape and working hard to hide it. The old man would rather die part of the game than idle under treatment. He asked, “Friend, have you considered giving up that old shell in favor of a new one?”

  Sean answered for him. “Won’t do it, not his style. We’ve tried.”

  “You’re feeding that thing more than you can afford to give. You’re strong, but not that strong.”

  “So be it. You’ll help me to Gwynvyd.”

  Johan didn’t reply. If the old druid didn’t sleep soon, the damage would compound and the drain would kill him. He had given too much to expire before the first results of the Conflict came.

  Cathbad sighed, finally responding to their concern. He stood and asked Sean to keep on top of the satellite effort. He lumbered down the hall to the bedrooms to rest.

  Johan sat back, glass in hand. “He’s dying, alright.”

  “You’re not going to let him move on when the time comes, are you?”

  Again Johan didn’t reply.

  • • •

  The first shades of dawn revealed bulky clouds on the march. Winds from the still-dark north pressed the tips of waves into spray. The Dionysios kept speed despite heavier seas, the engines’ changing pitch an angry growl. Two guards stayed deck side with IR goggles scanning for anything the radar might miss. Three other guards took position on the bridge. Bastion’s riders stayed on, spread out in a wide circular swath without attempts to hide. Nothing had been seen of the druids or Gerrit. Or of Bastion.

  Maria stayed below deck and nibbled on cheese. The coup would occur in her other beloved space then, unless she’d already been made. His growing displeasure with her had been tempered only by allegiance to his obsession with her. If not for that lust, fixation, or whatever it had become, she probably would have long been deposed. To have it come down to an elimination round both scared and relieved her. Mastery of her hidden world was not without a constant effort. One way or another it would be over.

  The captain called down to announce the lights of Mykonos.

  The rest of the morning proved to be an exercise in rote. Her guards cleared the house and set the heat. A hot shower returned color to her face, now that of Despina Chara, former chief financial officer for Xene Global Shipping. Elias showed up at ten with groceries and started lunch.

  By noon the circle of Bastion’s riders had gone, leaving her own as sole guardians. Anti-climactic in one sense, the situation remained fluid. Bastion’s unpredictability would no doubt be a factor in the plan. She had to be ready for it and so did the druids.

  While eating she reviewed her encounter with Bastion. Had she successfully landed her lusty innuendo? Or had she misread him? Possible but unlikely. She’d used the most natural tact: to please him in exchange for continued status, an act of both desperation and submission. His references to replacing her had become more frequent and stinging of late, in exact response to her criticism of his plans. Status had not officially degraded but it seemed a matter of time, especially with Ganzai steering him. Pretense of a sexual remedy still made the most sense.

  The evening’s Council meeting would offer the opportunity to gauge him. If need be, the post-meeting lull would see a formal proposal for a nostalgic romp in the flesh. She minimally dispatched a message to Samantha, careful to preserve discretion. The priests had to be kept informed. Everything rode on their successful engagement of Bastion.

  Lily pad is the likely place

  The frog will chase

  The evening’s dream

  Will enhance the scheme

  The faithful will keep abreast

  Via the lady’s digest

  The salad was fresh, the dressing Elias’ own brand of magic. By the time she went on to the grilled lamb she knew the message had been posted.

  “This is simply yummy, Elias. You are a culinary magician.”

  The middle-aged man Friday flushed with charming modesty.

  “You are too kind, Ms. Chara.”

  • • •

  The muted din of pigs and chickens. A small window high in the dirt wall. Several straw beds on the floor. Morning air thick with incense, a ward against evil spirits but more practically against the aroma of a densely populated clan fortress. Maria’s heart shuddered in recognition. Fujian, late eighteen-fifties. Summertime in Bastion’s favorite part of China during the bloody clan wars of the last dynasty. She hated the memories, hated his perfect recollection, and hated returning.

  He knew this.

  She took stock of her avatar. A young Asian woman’s body, of family and not a servant judging by her clothing. She descended the steep stairs into the second floor living area and found it empty. Further down, to the ground floor kitchen with its brick stove and built-in tile cupboard. Firewood lay stacked to the side. This was one of Bastion’s masterpieces, the detail so sensory as to make one believe it real. Despite the depth and complexity, an exit still felt readily available.

  Outside, chickens pecked the narrow strip of earth that followed the bend of the fortress’ circular construction. The central buildings of the courtyard rose on expertly cut granite. Everything except the perimeter rooftops lay in morning shade.

  She followed a stone lane inward towards the temple where the meeting would take place. Lacking were the hundreds of people that would live here; far too much overhead for the purpose of a council meeting. Most of it was overdone already and that was concerning. The extra effort hinted at a special occasion.

  She found the doors to the temple closed so she pushed on them.

  Beyond them a gathering of Asians knelt before a raised platform with an altar. Candles flickered and incense wafted. She counted eleven of them with their backs to her.

  All of them early? Her guard rose. They continued their stance, unmoving and unreadable. She felt obligated to kneel as well – absurd, but there it was. It was his game and she didn’t want to stand out.

  She took up position and knelt, wondering why Bastion would not be prominent as usual. The answer came when a Chinese warlord appeared behind the altar. It was Bastion, sporting Manchu facial hair and makeup.

  I am the thirteenth.

  Immediately she checked the exit and found it barred. She closed her eyes. A group effort, then.

  Calm. Fiercely calm. Head down, secretly feeling for the gap.

  “Maria de Oro,
Sequence Three of Grecian Royalty. Stand!”

  She raised her head to meet his gaze. He had known. Or had found out, maybe thanks to the druids. In any case, it had come to this. She was too powerful with too many secrets. Bastion would send her on.

  When she stood, the others also stood and fanned out in a half moon to face her, their faces now their own. New to the group was burly Gerold Severin, the G1 administrator for Europe. He stared back without expression.

  Bastion came around the alter.

  “For almost two centuries you and I made good on this planet, Maria. Fifty years we spent in love. Always, we worked together. I supported your formal rise to Council, though you had been my thirteenth for years. And despite your weakening resolve to preserve our plans, I trusted you. I respected your differing opinions. I often followed your advice though I sometimes felt it contrary to our advancement.”

  He stepped off the platform and stood in front of her. “And this is how you reward me. Your desire for power is almost cliché.”

  “You’re becoming ill, Bastion. You will destroy the only world we have.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No, Maria, I am not ill and I will not destroy the world. However, I cannot say the same about your world.” He began to pace. “There is a beautiful young woman by the name of Ina Chen living in the Pearl River Delta region of southeastern China. She’s just been taken hostage by a crime lord. Her mind is sharp and she is already plotting escape. Unfortunately, the crime lord is going to gouge her eyes out and make her his sex slave.”

  “You will have a hard time keeping me in that mesh. I hope you’re all prepared for the fight.”

  Bastion walked the length of the gathered council. “My friends, your efforts to handle Maria will not be required, just as they are not right now. She will be placed in Ina Chen’s body and held there. Volgograd rangers will oversee her punishment, a painful, purely physical existence before being killed.” He looked at Maria, measuring reaction. “I’ve arranged for you to be collected by Eden, eventually.” His expression changed to reflect something like sincere regret had it not been so perverted by the pallor of revenge. “I wish you had been truthful with me, I really do. We would have talked it through.”

  The floor of reality shimmered, threading fear into Maria’s core. A horrible mind group approached, quick and sickening, full of evil and nail-strong intent. They were rangers but empowered in a strange way. Combined, they were more powerful. Which team had he sent for her?

  She addressed the council. “This can happen to you. Volgograd’s research will be your undoing. You’ll regret this. You all will.”

  The last she heard was Bastion saying, “Somehow I doubt–” before the rangers stole her every thought and replaced them with their own.

  • • •

  Atop the roof of a bank outside of Rome, two square panels on pan-tilt mounts carried data traffic between identical panels miles away at the apartment and at the farm where the bràthair worked from. The pan mounts were radio controlled, ready to be repositioned to scramble the telltale line of sight configurations.

  From the farm, shùil-equipped druids acted as bràthair and monitored Maria’s Greek estate as well as Samantha Sigler’s blog. Via the temporary wifi network, they passed imagery to those in the apartment. Sean ate breakfast and watched a laptop’s screen. He watched as Maria swam morning laps in the pool.

  Johan’s voice sounded from the bedrooms. He was rousing Cathbad to join him. They came down the hall together.

  “Something’s happened to her,” Johan said.

  “Who?”

  “Maria. I woke and felt it.” He started to pace. “She’s trapped.”

  Sean looked at the screen. “That’s not Maria?”

  “Can’t be. Not anymore.”

  Sean ordered the farm evacuated and the bank’s wifi panels repositioned. He turned to Johan.

  “Failure is not an option. She’s an incredible asset. We need to know for sure.”

  Johan parted the blinds and peered across the street at a villa with pale green walls and a terra cotta roof. From a second story balcony a woman shook a carpet clean with her face turned away from the dust. She finished, her expression one of self-contained, casual contentment; he remembered the feeling. Beyond the villa, olive trees ran in rows, dormant for the winter. It was the normal world, yet he felt like a visitor now.

  He let the blinds snap closed. “I’ll look for her. There’s no other way.”

  “Clare will help in this,” Cathbad said. “She has the strongest and most recent impressions of Maria. She will know how to find her.”

  • • •

  Two miles from Vatican City, Anki took in the hotel auditorium from the back row and sighed. Attendance to the sold-out investor exposition had been crippled by the world crisis. It was difficult sitting there listening to talk of investment devices, especially in a business suit. She hadn’t worn a skirt and heels since just after college.

  Several seats over on her right, a German broker kept peripheral watch, wild with hopes for a chance at banging her. To her left and a row forward, a prim female independent investor from Copenhagen absorbed the session’s presentation with impressive focus.

  For Anki, the panel of speakers could not have been more dry and tedious. No spontaneity. No sense of the small gathering’s mood. They worked through a PowerPoint slideshow with information that a week ago may have meant something. The chaos of the global markets had stolen their thunder and spirit. Only the host had any spark and that he tempered so as not to appear ridiculous compared to his panel.

  One of the slides for a resort property showed a poolside sunbather in a bikini. That intensified the German broker’s vibe, earning her a full-on glance. Ignoring him only twisted his spiraling obsession. She considered moving forward a few rows when her cell phone vibrated.

  “Ms. Renate, I’m sorry but you are needed at the office. A driver is waiting at the taxi queue.”

  She eyed the hormonal broker. He looked over instantly, keyed to the slightest brush of meta.

  “Thank you. I’ll be right out.”

  • • •

  Clare shook her head at the recording of Maria swimming.

  “Obviously a cover. This one knows she’s supposed to be someone important and is enjoying the role.”

  “Because she’s really not.”

  “Yes. She’s good for show, but that isn’t Maria.”

  Clare faded quickly, leaving her daughter at the forefront as a courtesy. Anki had grown more comfortable with the duality and letting her mother surface. The wine helped.

  Johan sighed. “So she’s lost then. Bastion must have her.”

  “It would seem so,” Cathbad said.

  “Damn it. What now?”

  Cathbad looked at the pair. “Anki, your mother spent time engaged with Maria. Join with Johan and go deep within her, see what you can find of Maria’s essence. Then use it to find her. We have to know if she can be grabbed.”

  Anki plopped on the bed and scooted to make room for Johan.

  He sat on the edge and studied her. “You’re nervous.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve never done this.”

  “We just have to find more about Marie. A little survey, is all.”

  He laid down beside her. Eventually their calm breathing filled the room. A car passed by. Voices from outside the pub next door carried over. He wouldn’t start until she was ready.

  “Do you think we’ll have to face Bastion?”

  He shrugged. “If we do, then it will be the time for it. First we have to get a good feeling for Maria.”

  She slid her hand into his. “I love you, Johan.” Saying it aloud was a validation, confirming all they’d felt together and while apart.

  He faced her. “I know. And you know I love you, Anki.”

  “I do.” She stayed in the cradle of his eyes, not wanting to leave. “We should start.”

  “I know.” He smiled. “But you aren’t ready
yet.”

  With that, she was.

  Familiar. Warm. Integrated. Intimate.

  Johan and Anki lingered in the bliss of the joined space, their first time so perfectly and lucidly connected. All comfort and ease, he molded with her as if he’d been there all along. Thoughts entwined and mixed, shaping a shared perspective from their duality.

  From the shade of surrounding thought, Clare emerged, a single light, small and subdued – used to being overlooked, careful not to shine; survival minded. She approached, gaining in size but dimming to compensate. Dozens of hair-thin probes unfurled, stretching outward, seeking communion. At contact, a flow began and they entered a new space defined by three instead of two.

  Anki faded to a point just behind him, shifted to become an observer. He pushed forward into Clare and affronted all convention to slip between the structures that shielded her core. Blinded by the rush of foreign assemblies of thought, Anki shuddered and shielded herself in Johan’s strength. Glimpses revealed molecular-scale representations of her mother’s memory, piercing and overriding in their proximity. A single unit’s intense loneliness stole her attention and nearly ripped her free. Johan pulled her in tighter in response.

  He navigated by intuition, shifting perception gradually until he encountered memories tinged with Maria’s feel. Those few already turned by Clare and Steffan lay exposed and familiar. The rest needed attention and interpretation. One after another Johan and Anki engaged them, untangling associations and repressed meaning until the granular experience of each memory lay bare.

  Clare was right. Taking without regard underlay everything Maria did; it was what every Comannda believed their right. Humans were in fact the feed nourishing their version of mankind’s Earth, their empire.

  So fundamental was the realization that it proved staggering, threatening to stall their focus and effort. Johan shifted twice to achieve enough clarity to proceed. They continued to scavenge through memories imprinted by Maria, sharing interpretation duty until they uncovered a complex knot unlike any before. Had he not been so neutrally tuned and Anki not so sensitive, it would have been missed as intended. He drew it in and together they probed it.