Taking Control

by L. V. Lane

“Sometimes I like you to remind me,” I said, trying to make light of it.

  His fingers tightened, one hand gripping my ass in a rough squeeze. I yelped. “You trying to manipulate me?” Leaning back, he inspected me, and I did not like the gleam in his eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ve already had your punishment.” He patted my ass gently. “But there’s always next time.”

  His lips pressed to mine one more time before he turned away and hit the intercom on a nearby console. “How are we tracking?”

  “Fifteen to drop,” a voice replied.

  “We’ll meet you in the launch room.”

  I felt like the ground had just opened up with those words—I was about to go to hell.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Eloise

  THE TINY, TEN-person shuttle disembarked from the ship and hurtled planet-side with bone-rattling g-force. The drop was worse even than I feared, and I’d had abysmal expectations.

  Logan sat beside me, his hand surrounding mine and I closed my awareness to everything but the feel of those strong fingers.

  As we hit the planet’s atmosphere, the vibration increased to a furious rattle that threatened to shake me and the shuttle apart.

  My stomach dropped as it swooped and dipped in the air currents, twisting and pitching first one way then the other, until, despite my grave terror at our arrival, I was relieved when we touched down. The team were out of their seats, yanking harnesses off, and readying weapons before I could do more than wrestle with my clip.

  I had never been part of such an operation before, but I took comfort from the team’s absolute focus. They were alert, determined and a strong sense of discipline rolled off them in heavy waves.

  They had seen this before, it was familiar to them, and they knew what to do.

  Their purpose was infectious. I had a job to do. It was vital that I follow their lead and focus on what must be done.

  Logan finished his weapons checks, slotting guns into holsters and snapping his visor down before turning to me. “You good?”

  I nodded.

  He tapped his knuckles on my helmet and pressed the switch to the side to flick my visor down. It covered half my face, leaving my nose and mouth exposed. It could act as a display but presently remained clear.

  “We’re up,” the team leader, Hudson, called from the shuttle entry. He wiped a hand over his short brown hair before slotting his helmet on.

  The internal lights turned off, casting the shuttle into darkness until the lowering ramp provided a crack of weak light that expanded.

  Outside it was damp and dark. A rough, narrow passage stretched out ahead, glistening in the poor illumination. I craned my neck as I stepped outside; the shuttle was nestled between the walls of two tall buildings—an alleyway. A short distance ahead it opened out onto a major road.

  The team swept the vicinity, their weapons trained in every direction. A chorus of Clear’s came through the helmet communicator. I turned to take a last lingering look at the perceived protection of the shuttle to see the ramp lifting. The outer walls projected an image of the alley taken from its other side. As the ramp closed, I struggled to identify more than a faint shimmering distortion as it silently lifted skyward.

  When I turned back, the team was moving out, and I followed on behind, while Logan and Dano, fell in at the rear.

  It wasn't raining, more of a fine drizzle struggling through the soaring skyscrapers.

  “Target locked,” Hudson said. He stood a few paces away, and his deep, no-nonsense voice was audible both outside and inside my helmet. We were all fitted with a helmet communicator, which could be switched off, on, or permanently on. During the pre-operation briefing, Hudson instructed me to speak only when necessary, his handsome face glowering at me as if he expected me to be trouble and wanted to nip that trouble in the bud. I’d nodded and squeaked out that I understood. The man was terrifying when he gave a command.

  I got the impression he only spoke in commands.

  A map popped up on my visor, superimposing over my view of the dark alley with a little dotted line indicating the route.

  It was three blocks to the diplomat’s former residence, which was still mostly intact according to reports. The diplomat and his family were long gone, but I needed something of theirs to channel my awareness and locate them. Searching their former home was a necessary risk. Without my tracking skills, it might take many weeks to find them. Given Uncorrupted patrols were combing the streets searching for the diplomat, just like we were, my skills could mean all the difference to the success of this operation…assuming the reports were accurate and their former residence had survived.

  The team moved with swift, careful strides, their feet landing softly against the wet tarmac ground.

  My breath caught in my throat as we rounded the corner.

  I had never visited this planet, but I had seen images of the city.

  Now, all that remained was an unrecognizable shell.

  Tall buildings, crumbling and wrecked, braced a broad street where rubble, shattered glass, twisted metal, chunks of masonry, and abandoned street vehicles lay. Bodies draped inside and outside, distorted and grotesque in the manner of their death and as contorted as the other dead litter that scattered the ground.

  Smaller refuse was strewn about: paper and plastic bags flapping wetly in the breeze, and torn fragments of clothing. In the distance, maybe a mile away, a bright light searched the street at an intersection.

  A battle walker.

  I froze, my body and mind locked up. Twice as tall as a man, it made a formidable weapon. The mechanical beast reminded me of a headless theropod, with double cannons replacing the stumpy front claws of a dinosaur. The smaller gun could take out a soldier with ease, the larger could cut through armored vehicles and decimate buildings—little could stand in its way.

  “It’s too far away to pick us up,” Logan said, turning to face me. “And heading away. We’ll be off this street before it has a chance to get near.” Hugging the walls of the buildings where possible, we dipped in and out of the shadows as we picked our way through the decimation.

  I felt a sudden shot of awareness. “There are people around the corner,” I said to Logan.

  He had hauled me into the shadow of a building before I could finish the last word; his body a wall around me. A flurry of movement ensued as the team assumed a defensive formation.

  Hudson swung back to face me, his head just visible over Logan’s shoulder. I couldn't see the scowl through his blackened visor, but I felt it. “What kind of people? Uncorrupted?” he demanded, his hushed tone carrying loud through the helmet communicator.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I shuddered as a dark, desperate stink hit me. Logan’s gloved fingers closed over my throat, the pressure light, controlling, and bringing an instant sense of calm. “Whoever they are, their intentions are not good.”

  Hudson nodded and signaled to the team who moved silently to the intersection. There, the first man stopped, back to the wall, before he pivoted to check.

  Pressing his back to the wall again, the man signaled with five fingers.

  We followed, ducking into a nearby doorway out of sight as Hudson gave the order, and the team disappeared from view.

  I could pinpoint the exact moment when the silent weapons snubbed the lives out; each death sent an echoing stab into my chest, but I did not dare block it out. The killing stopped. “There is one left,” I said, my voice trembling.

  A heartbeat later that life ended, too. “Gone,” I said. “All gone.”

  “Confirmed,” Hudson said. “A bunch of thugs praying on what’s left.”

  Logan tapped his knuckles on my helmet. The visor blocked much of his face, but his mouth was a firm line. “You did good, Eloise.”

  His praise warmed me. My mentor had told me everything would happen quite naturally once I was deployed. It was still a relief to find that skills only tested in training, had not failed me.

  With the dang
er removed, we continued through the destruction until we reached the diplomat's once prestigious residence. The grand entrance was an abomination of broken glass and warped metal. Two bodies lay on the steps, face down, dirty strands of long hair hiding their faces from view. Blackened burns scored the walls and steps.

  “Patrols have been through here,” Logan said. “They’ll have been searching for the diplomat.”

  The team entered ahead, and when the all clear was given, we followed in behind.

  “No signs of surveillance,” someone called.

  I flipped my visor up to see better. Head and weapon flashlights cast sporadic illumination over the ruination that was once a foyer. The flickering beams revealed overturned tables and chairs covered by a thin sheen of broken glass. Bodies large, and even small, littered the floor and my heartbeat surged sickly at seeing such loss.

  “Hey.” Logan’s knuckles tapped against my helmet. “You good?”

  I nodded and stared at my feet until I could compose myself. This was why I was here, to prevent this from happening to other worlds. The research in the diplomat’s keeping could save others from this fate.

  “Let’s move,” Hudson said. “I don’t buy the lack of surveillance. Let’s make this fast.”

  It was a long, arduous trek up the many flights of stairs. The building had no power, and even so, using the elevator would have been a risk. The diplomat’s suite showed signs of disturbance; a hurried exit or a later search by those seeking our targets.

  I felt the presence of the family immediately and worked my way through the shattered remains of a stylish residence to the bedroom. Clothes were always the greatest source of personal signature, but I was drawn to the unmade bed. I ran my fingers over the pillows detecting the echo of their essence. I closed my eyes as my palm pressed to the soft surface, letting it invade my consciousness.

  My mind spiraled out, round and round, in ever broader circles until it stopped.

  My eyes opened to find Logan standing in the doorway, studying me. His face appeared stark in the beam light, and although we were not touching, I felt his control like a soothing balm over a sore.

  “Anything?” Logan asked.

  “Yes, I have found them.” In my mind, they existed as a beacon, and I turned orientating myself to it and pointed. “A day, maybe two. It’s hard to judge,” I said. The closer I got to the signal the stronger it would become.

  Dano nudged past Logan, turned to align himself with my indication, and flipped his visor down. “North-east, roughly. We’ll fine-tune as we get closer.”

  Hudson stepped up beside Logan. “Can you see where they are?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “Out of the city. The buildings are smaller, sparser—less built up.”

  “Shuttle is risky. We’ll remote it in once we pick the diplomat and his family up,” Hudson said. “Won’t matter by then.”

  I frowned. “I feel like their hiding place is moving…swaying, maybe.”

  “What do we have one to two days from here in that direction?” Hudson asked Dano.

  Dano’s hands moved through a series of command gestures, pinching and swiping to the left. “Bingo,” he said. “We have a marina, Port Ortor. We can cover half the distance before daylight. Should be there before sun up the next day. She’s right, building cover gets sparse real quick in that direction.”

  Logan nudged his head at me. “What about the research information? Any chance they left it here.”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. Some Singulars could detect the presence of objects based on their importance to people. It left a signature of sorts—or so I'd been told. “I don’t have that skill.”

  “I thought I’d check,” Logan said. “They’re his ticket out, but people can make mistakes under pressure.”

  “Time to move out,” Hudson said.

  I gathered the pillowcase from the bed, and we returned down the many flights of stairs.

  “We’ve got movement in the lobby,” the front man called.

  Hudson turned to me. “Eloise?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not people.”

  His lips thinned. “Bots then…Other exits?” he called to Dano.

  “We’ve got movement in every direction,” Dano said. “Looks like they were waiting for us. They’re closing in, if we want out, we’re going to have to do it the hard way.”

  “Okay,” Hudson said. “You know the drill.”

  They drew their weapons, formed up in the stairwell beside the emergency door, then stormed into the foyer.

  A hail of gunfire tore up the reception. The deep boom-boom of the shotguns mixing with the rapid put-put-put and the buzz of an automatic. I was dragged into that cacophony by a firm hand around my own, then shoved down behind the reception desk by a firm grip on my head. “Stay here.”

  Terror struck me immobile even should I suffer an irrational urge to be defiant at this time. Then he rolled over the top of the desk straight into that madness. I was sure my heart stopped beating before it surged to a gallop.

  I was conflicted; the desire to obey warring with a desperate need to check that he was uninjured. I put my hands over my ears to dampen the onslaught so I could focus on the life signatures—his life signature.

  I found him in the chaos, and I clung to that awareness as the cacophony intensified and deafening explosions shook the ground, one after another.

  Pain lanced my chest. It felt like someone had gouged a hole in it using a blunt pick. I sucked a sharp breath in and looked down.

  Nothing?

  And then realization hit me—it wasn’t my pain, it was Logan’s.

  My vision tunneled. I could not stay, but I could not go either—because he told me not too, and although the agony was maddening, my limbs would not obey my commands.

  Silence fell. Was that was a good or bad sign?

  “If you poke your head up before the all clear, you’ll regret it,” Logan whisper-growled into the communicator.

  A few seconds later I heard a chorus of Clear’s, and he rounded the reception desk to glare down at me. Blood trickled from his temple, but I could not readily see another injury.

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “That you were about to defy me—again?” he said in a dangerously calm voice.

  My heartbeat would not settle, even seeing him. I was suddenly feeling very defiant about my need to check him thoroughly, and I didn't care if he stripped my armor from me and spanked my bottom raw.

  “You think this is a one-way street?” He pointed between us. “I know the way your brain works.” He pressed his palm to his temple for a few seconds before holding his hand up to me. “Barely bleeding…They warned me you would freak out the first time I got injured…And you used to get all antsy and needy whenever I did combat training, so yes, I knew you were about to earn yourself another correction.”

  My pussy spasmed in silent agreement, and again when I realized he had spoken on the open channel.

  He shook his head and smirked as if reading the direction of my thoughts, and offering his hand, hauled me to my feet.

  “Don’t have time for that right now, baby.” He winked. “But you’ll find I have no problem keeping count.” He rapped his knuckles against my helmet, and for some inexplicable reason that put a stupid grin on my face.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The dynamics were not created equally. The predominance of Betas did not concern the governing council. But the imbalance of Omega and Alpha did. I was directed to find ways to increase the Omega yield. Extensive clinical trials were undertaken on adults for whom no dynamic had shown.

  Doctor Lillian Brach

  Eloise

  WE TREKKED THROUGHOUT the day, dodging patrols but making good progress until the onset of dawn drove us to seek cover. It had rained the whole day, and although the armor protected me from the worst of the weather, I still felt soaked. We passed numerous condominiums that looked to be in a good state of repair and a perfect
place to rest. But Dano bypassed them all and declared a single-story gift shop to be the best place to hide during daylight…because it was his mother’s birthday next week and he said he needed to pick something up.

  Hudson glared at him, but he didn’t argue, so I guessed Dano was joking about his mother’s birthday, or it was a good choice regardless.

  Beyond the shopfront was a cramped, windowless storeroom with two exits and access to the roof, a tiny office, and a small kitchen and washroom.

  While the team set up monitoring sensors around the perimeter, I cleaned up in the tiny washroom. After, we ate under the soft glow of a torch.

  As soon as the food was finished, Logan hauled me off into the office. No one commented as we left, but my heart beat a staccato, and I wondered if I had done something wrong. Back at the diplomat’s residence, I hadn’t actually stood up—only thought about it. That wasn't the same thing, was it?

  “Are you going to punish me?” I asked as he rammed the stiff door into its frame with an ominous creak. It wouldn’t close, so he kicked the bottom corner until it snapped shut with a thud.

  The room was dark, just a faint glow coming from the crack around the door until he turned a small glow lamp on and placed it in the corner.

  My skin felt stretched thin and my tummy was in knots.

  “Do I need to?” he asked seriously, although I thought I saw his lips twitch. He took his helmet off and removed the communicator from the inner wall before clipping it around his ear.

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation.

  I wished I could shut my stupid mouth.

  His soft laughter brought warmth to my chest. He shucked his backpack off and leaned it against the wall, before placing his helmet, gloves, and weapons beside it.

  I liked some punishments better than others—the ones where I still got to come. I'd developed a particular type of endurance and was confident I could endure anything so long as he did not deny me again. “Please let me come.” It had been a long and stressful day, and we had walked for many miles, but my mind had still drifted frequently to that room on the orbiting ship where we fucked against the wall.