Prisoner of the Mind (Project Archon Book 1)

by Kal Spriggs

  Misha still seemed stunned by how well Halving had taken it. “Sir, SIGIL killed forty million people when they hit Italy. No one will ever forgive—”

  “No one ever really forgives anything, Misha,” Halving interrupted. He waved a hand impatiently. “If SIGIL operates through atrocities, then at least they have the stomach for it. Perhaps they even have a reason for it… though I find the destruction of so much cultural heritage as atrocious as the loss of life.” Who knew how many priceless works of art had been annihilated in that one attack?

  Misha just shook his head, “If you say so, sir. Either way, I find the implications extremely disturbing.”

  Halving nodded and his eyes went distant. “As do I. ESPSec is running a black operation, possibly aimed at SIGIL, and it looks like we’re the bait.” His face went grave, and his lips turned down. “I shall be very… unhappy with Colonel Givens if all our work has been a farce just to get the attention of SIGIL.”

  “Sir, shouldn’t we be more concerned that SIGIL might attack us?” Misha asked.

  Halving blinked slightly, he looked at Misha with a startled expression. In truth, his thoughts had taken him elsewhere, “Yes, of course. Hopefully the conclusion that SIGIL plans to attack is unwarranted. Preparation of a defense is called for in any case.” He leaned forward intently, “I want a full plan drawn up in the circumstance our dear friends at ESPSec betray us. I'd like primary and alternate evacuation routes for all our critical personnel and a full fallback facility set up so that we can be up and running with no substantial delay.”

  Misha nodded slowly, clearly taken aback by the change of subject. “I would think that SIGIL would be the primary threat—”

  “They’ve shown precious little signs of any significant psychic activity to date,” Halving shrugged. “I expect more in the way of a traditional terrorist or paramilitary attack. We can counter such threats through increased security and bringing in some additional muscle. Our facility has sufficient physical defenses against that sort of thing.” He had left most of perimeter security to Colonel Givens and the two military squads she had control over. He now wondered if that were a mistake. Halving would need to look into it.

  Halving waved a hand absently, “No, Misha, I want you and your response team beefed up, and any of our normal contractors brought in.” There were dozens of psychics and mercenaries that Halving had dealt with, many of them were freelancers. None of them would have any issues with working for – or against – Amalgamated Worlds. Cash is king, he thought, money buys us security and though it isn't common knowledge, there are ESPSec officers aplenty who can be bribed to look the other way... assuming other methods don't work.

  “You really think there is more of a threat of ESPSec turning on us thanfrom SIGIL?” Misha asked. She seemed stunned by the idea. Then again, Halving reminded himself, she did lose family in the fallout from the attack in Italy. He would have to remember that in the future.

  “I know they are both threats.” Halving said, his voice cold. “I want to be prepared for every eventuality. If SIGIL attacks, we'll have precautions in place in the form of your reaction team... and we will also have escape routes to utilize if ESPSec doesn't manage security.” Halving shook his head, “Misha, you know me, I'm not discounting any threat... but we both know that when the chips fall, ESPSec would throw us to the wolves if it suited them.”

  “Very well, sir. I’ll call in the reserves,” Misha said with a confident nod. “What should I do about Angel?”

  Halving cocked his head, “I’m not certain that I entirely trust her… but tell her to come in. I want her to monitor the female subject, given her abilities. That will free me up to monitor the real threats. Besides, I’d prefer to have Angel where I can see her than out there where she might stab us in the back.”

  Misha nodded, her face clearly showed her concern at the answer. The unvoiced disagreement didn’t surprise Halving at all. Misha might have helped Halving to locate the woman’s daughter to use as leverage, but that didn’t mean she fully trusted a psychic as powerful as Angel to stay blackmailed. They both have their ongoing rivalry, too, Halving thought with slight amusement. In his mind, Angel’s mental abilities far surpassed Misha’s, but he would never tell either woman that.

  Halving couldn’t see Angel as reliable, she was too good at manipulation and at playing off emotions and appearances. Even when she outwardly submitted, he sensed too much defiance in her and too much compassion in her towards the experimental subjects. She clearly could not accept her own recruitment to the winning team.

  Then again, Halving could not blame her for that. He did not find much satisfaction with his current place in the scheme of things. But things could change, he knew. That’s why I’m in charge, he reminded himself, I can think several moves ahead.

  “Alright Misha, that will be all then. Thank you for your assistance,” Halving said. His lieutenant nodded and stood. Halving watched her leave before he picked up the folder to look at the face of the man Colonel Givens had sacrificed for her career.

  He perused the short file and shook his head at the waste. Jonathan turned the next page and met the eyes of Colonel Given’s daughter. It was good that he hadn’t turned to that page with Misha still in the office. The sudden bark of laughter would have seemed far out of place with the otherwise grim news.

  Oh, he thought, Misha, if only you knew how much this changes things.

  ***

  Chapter 20

  I have no memories of friends. I can’t remember my first lover. The memories that the doctors wrote onto me are flat and fake, a generic background that feels like a cheap movie script. In some ways, I can thank them for that. Every friendship, every new bond is something to be treasured.

  --Memoirs of Shaden Mira

  Loved ones provide the best methods of control. Had I been given freedom to design the project, I would have select agents loyal to me to seduce and subvert the subjects before the experimentation began. With them coaching and guiding our subjects through, it would make keeping them ever so much easier. Friends and loved ones provide leverage that can always be manipulated.

  --Dr. Jonathan Halving, Project Archon Notes.

  Shaden's eyes went wide as something ice cold smashed him in the face. He waved a hand in panic and tried to sit up, but he gave up that effort with a pain-filled groan. It was a snowball. Someone had hit him in the face with a snowball.

  “See?” A cheerful woman's voice said, “I told you that would work.”

  “Yes,” Another voice said, “you did tell me that. You'll note I didn't disagree, I simply said I didn't recommend it.” The dry voice sounded almost familiar.

  Shaden turned his head and looked around. He was in an unfamiliar bedroom of some kind. Both the speakers stood at the foot of the bed. A green-eyed, cheerful redhead waved her hand, “Well, either way, he's awake, right?” She stepped forward and helped Shaden to sit up. “Hello there, I'm Moira.”

  Shaden shook his head, his whole body hurt and his brain felt sluggish. “I'm Shaden… Shaden Mira.”

  “Right,” Moira nodded. “Good to meet you and all that,” she waved a hand dismissively. But then she paused and took a breath, “Seriously, though, thank you, you saved my ass back there.”

  Shaden blinked at her in confusion for a long moment. Everything at the warehouse seemed muddled together. Finally, however, he remembered the van... and the red-haired woman whose panicked face he had only glimpsed briefly.

  The eyes, he thought, hard to forget those. She had the most green, penetrating eyes he had ever seen. “Yeah,” Shaden replied, “sorry, I almost didn't recognize you without the flamethrower.”

  Moira gave a snort and clapped him on the shoulder. Shaden nearly fell right over until someone else reached out a steadying arm. “See, someone understands my sense of style, Hedden.”

  “I didn't comment on your sense of style,” the dry voice said, “I merely questioned the use of such a bulky weapon, particularly
when there are a number of weapons that are far lighter and more effective.”

  “But not nearly so much fun,” Moira said with a dismissive sniff.

  “Of course,” Hedden said. “Now, perhaps it would suit your sense of fun and style to explain things to your father's guest?”

  Shaden wasn't so muddled that he missed the emphasis.

  “Yes, of course,” Moira said in a voice that almost sounded demure. She took a step back and then gave Shaden a slight, formal bow. “Shaden Mira, welcome to the house of my father, Thomas Kaid. For your services, he has made you his guest.”

  Shaden stared at her for a long moment, “Wait... did you say Thomas Kaid?”

  He didn't miss the gleam of amusement in her green eyes or her slight smirk as she answered, “Why, yes, I do believe I did.”

  “The colonial terrorist?” Shaden asked intently, “You know, the Butcher of Alpha Seven?”

  Moira's smirk vanished and her eyes narrowed. “Given your situation, you may want to watch what you call him.”

  “Given your introduction,” Hedden said with a slight sigh, “did you expect much of a different response?”

  Shaden didn't know what to think. Thomas Kaid was one of the founders of the Provisional Colonial Republic Army. He had orchestrated bombings of military barracks and garrisons and attacks on numerous military convoys. As far as Shaden knew, he was the number one most wanted terrorist on Amalgamated Worlds' watch lists.

  He glanced around and saw that they were in a spacious suite. He noticed paintings on the walls, real art, not the kind of junk that hotels used. Dark wood paneling lined those walls and the furniture all looked to be made of the same dark wood. The bed was almost ridiculously comfortable and piled high with thick blankets. Shaden felt very grateful for those blankets, because he didn't have on a stitch of clothing.

  “Uh, where are my clothes?” Shaden asked.

  Moira's scowl faded, “Oh, they were in terrible shape, I had them thrown away.”

  Shaden flushed, “You took my clothes?” He really didn't want to think about her stripping him naked, especially with nothing more than a few blankets between them.

  “I didn't say I ‘took’ them,” Moira said with a roll of her eyes, “I said I had them thrown away. They were trashed, anyway, and even if they weren't, you couldn't very well meet my father wearing those.” She waved one hand, “Hedden had one of father's tailors make you some proper clothing. She put a few outfits together in the couple days you’ve been resting.”

  “Okay,” Shaden said. He felt a little better at that. He looked at the prim and proper man who stood nearby. It must have been him or someone else who had stripped him then. “Um, thanks, I guess.”

  “It's the least we could do,” Hedden said. “Miss Moira has had quite a lot to say about your accomplishments. Not only did you fend off a squad of InSec, but also a powerful psychic... and then you stopped a bomb from killing Miss Moira. Quite the impressive resume.”

  Shaden flushed at that, “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

  “The blast threw you through the windshield of the van,” Moira said. “After I scavenged what I could from the rubble, I got you back here to my father's home. Hedden here patched you up and pulled a lot of glass out of you in the process, too.”

  Shaden nodded at Hedden and took a moment to study the man. Hedden was a tall and stoop-shouldered, with an oddly birdlike demeanor. He stared at Shaden with a detached, analytical look to his hooded eyes. “Yes, though you were in quite good shape for what you went through. A shame you weren't able to save young Master Bernard at the same time,” Hedden said. Shaden didn't miss an edge to his voice.

  “Well,” Moira interrupted, “I want to see how his new clothing fits.” She whipped open a wardrobe and pulled out several suits and brought them over to the bed. “Here, try these on.”

  “Wait,” Shaden asked, “that's all mine?” He shook his head, “For that matter, how could anyone measure me for a suit, I was unconscious!”

  “It was easy enough to do,” Moira said rolling her eyes, “I measured you by eye while I stripped you down. Now, get dressed, we haven't got all day!”

  ***

  After some further embarrassing discussion, Shaden managed to get some privacy to dress himself. He met Moira out in the hallway, who gave a critical sniff, “Well, I suppose it will do.”

  The tailored silk suit felt ridiculous. Still, Shaden wasn't about to pick any fights with the woman. He still felt too uncertain about his standing here... and he was only too well aware that a “guest” could equally mean prisoner or hostage.

  “Now,” Moira said as she led the way down the hall at a brisk pace, “Hedden has gone ahead to tell my father that you're awake and schedule time for him to meet you. In the meantime, I need to fill you in on some things.”

  “Oh?” Shaden asked. He was barely able to keep up with her pace and he didn't think he could keep up with her mentally in his current state.

  “Look,” Moira said, “that deal you barged in on, that was supposed to be my brother and I selling a weapons designer, Alex Agathan, to the Helix Corporation.”

  Shaden frowned at that, “Okay...” The name Agathan sounded familiar, somehow, but he couldn't say why.

  “What I didn't know was that the Helix Corporation is a front for the terrorist organization SIGIL... or that my brother planned to double-cross them to InSec for some kind of reward... and turn me over to them in the process.”

  “What?” Shaden shook his head, “I thought SIGIL was some kind of colonial...” he trailed off as she shot him a green-eyed glare.

  “Finish that sentence,” she growled. “I dare you.”

  Shaden just shook his head, “Sorry, go on.” As far as he knew, SIGIL was a splinter faction of ultra-violent colonial terrorists. They had dropped a freighter from orbit on Rome, destroying most of the former country of Italy in the process and killing millions in Europe. Their other actions had included car bombs, assassinations, and terrorist rampages.

  “So,” Moira said, “what Bernard didn't know was that SIGIL has somehow infiltrated InSec, or at least the local headquarters. Whatever my brother's dealings with them, he had some value alive, even after the attempted betrayal. SIGIL didn't want this weapon designer alive; they wanted him dead, for whatever reason... and the opportunity to kill me and link it back to my father, while punishing Bernard for the betrayal must have been too good for them to pass up.”

  Shaden's eyes went crossed as he tried to think his way through all that. He hadn't realized he'd stopped until Moira waved at him, “Hello, try to keep up, we haven't got all day.”

  Shaden hurried to catch up, his body painfully reminding him that he had been in not just one, but two big fights not so long ago. “Okay... so I stumbled into that. He frowned, “But how did your brother wind up...” He trailed off as he realized his role.

  She gave him a nod and in a low voice she confirmed his realization. “Yeah, you killed Bernard. You saved my life in the process, since they were going to have him kill me, but my father doesn't need to know that first part… and I don't plan to tell him as long as you work with me, okay?”

  I killed one of Thomas Kaid's children, Shaden thought with horror. The infamous terrorist had orchestrated the deaths of tens of thousands. Even among factions of the Provisional Colonial Republic Army some called him the Devil. I'm a dead man, he thought.

  “Now,” said the woman who held his life in her delicate hands, “My father has said he wants to meet with you. He'll probably thank you for saving my life, then ask if you want anything. Don't ask for any favors, right?”

  Shaden shook his head, “I wouldn't dream of it.”

  She gave him a sharp look, as if not sure whether or not she should take insult at his words. After a moment she nodded, “Best not to ask for favors from him… they always come with strings attached.”

  They came up to a set of doors and she paused outside them. “Okay, here go
es. Don't look so nervous, I'm sure this will go great!” She slapped him on the shoulder and opened the doors. She seemed so temperamental, so ready to take offense at anything he said. He wondered if her father would prove equally volatile.

  Shaden was about to meet the father of the woman whose life he had saved... by killing his son in the process. I'm really not sure how I feel about this, he admitted to himself.

  They stepped into a large banquet hall, where Shaden actually felt under-dressed. Men in tuxedos and women in ball gowns stood in discussion or danced on the floor. A full orchestra played music, the melody tantalizingly familiar and yet Shaden couldn't name it. Something else I've lost, he thought. For a moment, he almost let the notes sweep his attention away, but then Moira caught his hand and let him forward through the crowd.

  Her hand, oddly small in his grip, sent a strange tingle up his arm. The way that she had taken care of him, for that matter, the way she seemed to look after him now, left him feeling oddly uncertain. She got me out of that warehouse, he thought. She could have abandoned him there. For that matter, given what had happened, she had every reason to abandon him there. God knows, Shaden thought, if I found myself in some kind of confrontation with people so far out of my league, I would try to get out of it...

  Or had he?

  The thought rocked him. He had thrown himself into the conflict at the warehouse. In any sane expectation, he should have turned right around and fled. It felt like the right thing to do, Shaden thought. That in itself startled him, because it was the first time that he had acted on a sense of right and wrong that felt like his own reasoning. Everything until now had felt like a reaction to events around him. This time, in saving Moira's life, he had made the choice.