by P. S. Power
The only good part of the whole thing was that now, if anyone tried to curse her at all, she'd instantly start trying to break it. She couldn't help herself, which was the point. She'd throw everything she had into the correct breaking pattern and then do it as long as it took to stop the spell from working on her. Near the end Beth and Manly had been working together to put things on her that would have really killed her, in hours, if she'd failed to stop them. She hadn't though, which they assured her meant that even the most powerful ceremonial groups wouldn't easily take her out that way now.
So there was that.
She was sore though, if not in real pain. Her body had tried to fight against it all, stiffening, and twisting to get away, even if that had been impossible. Her arms and legs had locked out for hours practically, and her spine felt like it had been warped permanently in a few places from the effort. It hadn't though. She was in decent shape really, and a little bit of horrible pain wouldn't break her. It would just make her slightly uncomfortable. That was all.
A life time of surgeries had taught her that too. Who said nothing good could come of suffering? She stuck her head under the warm water, knowing that she might not get a chance to really get clean for a while. The trains here sounded a lot more practical than nice. Beth had suggested that they both be prepared for that part of things.
Gwen had lived a hard life in a lot of ways, growing up, but it had always been a clean and tidy one too. A lot of time spent in hospitals had made her comfortable with clean, as a rule. So, knowing that she might be a few days without a real shower was less then welcome news. She'd live. Starting out clean wasn't going to hurt, however.
That meant that half an hour later she had her clothing bag and her pack on her shoulder and was moving down the stairs toward the kitchen, hoping to get something to eat. She'd been right the day before, she hadn't given a moment's thought to hunger all night long, but now she could use something, if it was available. It was pretty early still, but the house was already awake, and there was the scent of coffee coming from the kitchen. She was on her way to grab some, her nose leading her, when Charles found her, and looked at her with more concern than a butler should ever really have to.
His job should be worrying about the silver being pilfered perhaps, or maybe that they would come up short on food, if unexpected guests arrived. Not wondering if the daughter of the house was in danger due to a serial killer. He was a good man that way though, and didn't try to blame her for going, which she'd half been afraid of, without knowing it. No, his concerns were more immediate, and blessedly, more helpful.
"People are setting up in the small side dining room, Miss Farris. Coffee is already on the table." There was no mention of her gear, but he looked at it and let his head come up in a fashion that would have been weird, if you didn't know he'd once been some kind of highly elite commando. It wasn't fear for her, but understanding that duty called. Dangerous stuff, but you went where ordered.
"Special Service business?" This was said as if he didn't already know. Not a lot that happened in and around Park Street went unnoticed by the man.
"Yeah. Those train murders? We've finally been asked in, since everyone else has decided that they can't do anything, even though their stupid foot dragging cost at least one girl her life. Possibly at least. Maybe we can't stop whoever is doing this either, but we should have been throwing everything at it to start with. Like I wouldn't work with the locals or Con-sev?" She sounded angry about it, which was part nerves but mainly the residual from the night before on top of no sleep for over a day now. "Not that my world was any better that way. Do you think people on all worlds are that dumb?"
The man, who wasn't as far as she knew, a sci-fi reader, still seemed to take her meaning well enough. After a moment he nodded.
"Very likely, if it's that way in two worlds. It might just be part of how we do things?" Then surprisingly, he changed the subject, by both turning to lead her to the small side dining room, which she was familiar enough with to find on her own, and by saying something that she hadn't really thought of before. Not exactly.
"Are you taking Darren Westmorland with you? I heard that there are rumors of strange failures in radiatives. He's from your world isn't he? It seems a natural fit." Politely he didn't mention the part where her brother was a social imbecile, which was nice of him.
Maybe that ran in the family too? She was no grand prize that way either, was she?
"I hadn't really thought about it. We should get a line in, in case we need backup. I'll ask after him, and let him know that you recommended him for the job. He'll get a kick out of it, if nothing else."
"Very good Miss." Then he moved to the side and stopped, so she could go right in to find Manly, Beth and to her surprise, Robert Vernor, all sipping at tiny cups of coffee. Black. There was cream on the table, but even Beth, who was a softy that way, took it straight today, trying to get as much caffeine into herself as possible. It was a good idea.
Putting her bags down next to the ones that were already there, she noticed that Beth had managed to find a pack that was really very close to identical to her own. Clearly made by the same people at least. She had a strange feeling that they were military gear that had come from the household staff directly. Several of them were ex-military after all. She nodded at it.
"Good, I'd like to do a gear and weapons check before we leave. How long do we have?"
Beth smothered a yawn and then waved at her, with twinkling but tired eyes.
"A bit under an hour. Good thinking though, since we should each know what the other has and might be able to find any mistakes that way. You should have some coffee first, so that you and Manly can talk." That was a strange thing to say, but she seemed happy enough about it, and Manly, helpfully, poured her a cup of very thick and slightly cinnamon scented coffee. It was Turkish in style, which wasn't a thing that she'd thought people could do at home.
Her mind took a while to catch up, the gears slowly clicking into place, with a bit of grinding due to the fog her thoughts were hidden in. Finally she got it, and nodded.
"I was thinking that we could use both positive and negative re-enforcement to establish the optimal use of kicks, punches and throws, as well as joint locks. I can work out a system of say, fifty moves that should do the trick. Possibly less. We'll teach them first, so there's a baseline to work from, like what you did with me last night, and then use the conditioning. There are some other factors that will help, like teaching a highly aggressive combat pattern, so our people will attack first and so on." She waited for the man across from her to tell her it was a stupid idea, but instead he took her now empty cup and refilled it. It really was a very small thing, even though she'd barely noticed downing the first one.
Then the man frowned.
"Positive reinforcement? You lost me there. Can you explain?"
She could, but only after another full cup of coffee. It didn't take long.
"You have the negative side down, punishing failure and using the threat of pain to goad people into greater action than they'd normally be able to manage on their own. If that's coupled with positive efforts, matching the other side, rewarding success and victory, then the effects will be increased. I sort of figured you already used that kind of thing in your advanced protocols?"
She was too tired to really care about the funny looks she was getting from the Westmorlands, but Robert nodded along, as if it made sense.
"Like with dog training? A bit of ham if the pooch sits, but a harsh word if they soil the rug?" He smiled, as if he were telling a bad and slightly off color joke, but Gwen sipped at her coffee and then nodded.
"Except that, if it can be done, we can ramp the pleasure up to a level that people will do almost anything to get at it. Pair the two things up and it should have very powerful effects. Strong enough that I'm hoping we can step the punishment part back and still get the same responses over all, in the same time frames." It seemed simple enough, but Manly stoo
d up, and started to walk out of the room. At the door he called back at least, so she knew he wasn't insulted, just quietly excited by the idea.
"I need to run some basic tests, and have some radiatives made. I'll be in touch." Then he left, digging a lead colored sphere out of his bag she was willing to bet.
Beth looked at her with a soft and rather pleased smile.
"Even if it doesn't work, that probably made his week. The idea of not hurting people is very central to the inner being of all the trainers. Cruel people can't do the job. It takes a person that really cares for others to not grow hard and end up breaking them."
Gwen started on her fourth cup of coffee and realized she was going to need some food, or she'd end up feeling sick all day on top of the tired and sore that was already going to come visit.
"It works. In fact, it works better than pain alone. It's a well known and highly studied fact where I come from. Anyway," She had nothing at all to say, but didn't have to, since several servants walked in, the men all in black suits and the women in deep black dresses, with white ruffles at the neck and sleeve. They still managed to look more like they were going to a funeral than some kind of French maid porn costume.
They had food though, which was wonderful. She didn't need much, but some toast or eggs would be good. Instead she was given a plate that Charles filled with a single poached quail egg on it. She nearly laughed, but waited for everyone to have their own first.
They almost always ate multi-course meals here. Very tiny portions on delicate little plates, but for some reason she'd thought that they'd just grab something and run out the door. She should have known better.
Trying to make herself sound appreciative as to the effort, she tried to explain.
"I'm afraid that we don't have time for a full meal, today. The train won't wait for us, after all."
The butler nodded, and so did everyone else, as if that was simply true, but Charles simply waited for her to eat her tiny egg, and had her next course in front of her the instant she put her fork down. The whole thing still took about twenty minutes, but it was far from the leisurely affair that they normally had at the house. None of the servers left the room at all, even.
She wiped her mouth carefully, and looked at Charles, then the woman that had helped Beth. Robert was still eating slowly, and was only on his third course, which was a small glass of fruit juice. Cherry. It was fresh squeezed, or mashed, however that worked, which meant very tart, this time of year.
"Thank you all. I know it's very rude of me to just jump up like this, but we need to run that gear check and then meet James out front. I'd rather be early and wait, then to be late and end up days behind on things." Especially since that could mean another death. Though it could have already been taking place, and they wouldn't know it yet. Beth hadn't picked anything up that way, but Westmorlands weren't good with death. It was a block that they all had for some reason. One of the major flaws in their system. They could kill, if commanded, or under attack, but even if their abilities were aligned for it, they just couldn't make themselves do things like find dead people. Not even under torture.
If anyone knew why that was, they hadn't told her about the reason yet.
Robert, partway through his meal or not, stood instantly, and waited for them to go to their bags, then gestured for Charles and the other man that was there, Carlisle, to take them, at least to the front room.
Charles actually shook his head slightly.
"Sir, if I might suggest that Special Service operatives might be carrying gear that they'd rather not be handled by others? Weapons and such?"
"Ah, too right, Winslow. Forgive me ladies. Even in uniform, I'm afraid my closed minded ways refuse to see my daughter as anything except the little girl I once knew. I-" He stopped dead, his mouth hanging open, shocked at his own slip.
Gwen wasn't his daughter. He wasn't wrong though, since she should remind him of that little girl, having her grown up body. Before he could speak again she picked up her clothing bag and then slipped her pack onto her right shoulder.
"It's a real point however, about the weapons. Not that I don't trust you two, but Beth and I need to be careful from now on, about things like that. I have enough things in here for four people, in a fight, if it comes up, and I don't want to lose them." She had some things on her too. Like her little red power conduit, which just knocked people back, and a knife in her left hand cargo pocket, with the sheath held in place by pins.
Straight ones, which was tricky to work out, since no one had invented the safety pin here yet. That was something she really needed to get on soon, she decided. That and decent running shoes. All exercise was done with heavy boots on here. At least the military kinds of things she'd seen.
Beth led them out, but stopped in the front room, unbuttoning her clothing bag in the front, and calling out what she had with her.
"Three shirts, uniform. One dress shirt. One dress, Westmorland Service travel. One night shirt, cotton. Under-things, three sets." Then she looked at Gwen, as if wondering what marvels she was bringing along with her.
It was slightly different.
"Three shirts, workman's blue. Two dress shirts, civilian. Two trousers, workman's. One nightgown, cotton. Under-things, five sets. Crins, military specification, two. Knives, eight inch fighting, point and leading edge style, two. Wire garrote, with handles, two. Extra toothbrush, hairbrush and emergency makeup, one kit." It was a thing that she'd put together herself, and it had taken time to find things that would fit in the little travel bag that hung at the very top of her slightly lumpy sack.
Her backpack was a bit less comfortable than Beth's however, and she hadn't brought any books or needlepoint projects to work on during their down time. She'd just have to be bored, since she wasn't adding anything else or leaving any of the weapons behind. Or the spare food. If they needed it, they were going to have it. If she was dumping anything, it would be...
Clothes. She just didn't have anything else to spare, not even if Beth laughed at her for being paranoid. She didn't, which was nice.
"That's probably more weapons than we'll need, but it's nice to have them along anyway, just in case..."
"Just in case the air rips open and unfathomable things start to come out?" Gwen knew that was part of it. Just being that close to the gate that Debussey had tried to open had changed her, she knew.
Her friend took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, over the course of half a minute, before speaking.
"That had occurred to me, yes. I still feel them, in my dreams, moving and shifting, trying to break out of their prison. It terrifies me more than I can say."
Making sure she had everything, going over it all one last time, just in case, Gwen didn't say anything until her pack was firmly on her back, and gone over closely. She checked it for comfort, and then unpacked it to make sure things were set correctly, in case they had to run at any point, and didn't have time for things like that.
Finally, when Beth had probably thought she just wasn't going to speak on the issue of the Elder Gods at all, she did, if obliquely.
"It's everyone that was there and lived, I think. In the end, those that died that day may be the lucky ones. I am a little surprised that Erin hasn't tried to haunt you yet. Biding her time, or just realizing that arch-nemesis or not, you were correct when it came down to it?"
It was actually a joke between them, after a fashion. Doctor Debussey seemed like the type not to take death just lying down. The words got her friend to smile a bit, and shoulder her own pack, but she didn't test it for comfort like Gwen had.
"Probably a bit of both. She'll show up eventually, with some plan or scheme to try and get her life back, or to steal a body. I've heard legends of ghosts managing that, but it would be easiest with her own children, and I doubt that Heather or Darren will be easy prey that way. You and Katherine would be too much as well, since it's already a bit crowded in there. My guess is that she's working on some method of doing
that even now. She always intended to have eternal life after all, and ran a program of body thieves herself, so I wouldn't put it past her."
It was, Gwen decided, really surreal, talking about a dead person as if being gone was just a mild hiccup in their plans. As if one day soon Erin would come waltzing through the front door, wearing a new body, and trying to shoot them. If so, that poor person whose life she stole would simply die however, which even a narcissist might have gotten by that point.
She waved to the door, meaning to go outside and wait. It was early, but not a bad day out already. The sky was blue and free of clouds, and there was just a hint of a breeze in the air. The world smelled fresh, like someone had been gardening already, during the cool part of the day. There was also no little white Lorrie pulling through the manned and guarded iron gate yet. They were early, but it was possible that James could be late too. People simply weren't that picky about time here. Except, possibly, the trains. Everyone had agreed that they'd be leaving on time at least.
There was flex time built into the travel schedule however, in case things happened and they got stuck along the way. James had two hours to get them to a place an hour away, and they probably wouldn't be on the first train until nearly eleven-thirty. They didn't even have to go through TSA checkpoints, or pat downs, not that anyone would have let that happen here. The whole land would revolt first, rather than let a lady be handled roughly like that. At least the proper portions of the populous would. The lower classes included in that. She'd met working people, and while a few had been coarse, or crude and some even criminal, most of them were pretty stand-up people, when someone needed help, within their own rules.