by Drew Briney
SHIFTING REALITIES
JI ANNA AWAKENED LAYING ON A BLANKET, HANDS TIED TOGETHER, bound to a tree, and uncovered apart from her paper-thin, lacy nightgown. Vaya Sage watched her become aware of her surroundings, grow goosebumps as fast as shaken sodas release bubbles. Her hands jerked as she apparently tried to rub her arms to make them go away.
Ji Anna didn’t exactly fit Vaya Sage’s definition of a knockout but she had a pleasant face and a compelling figure. Customarily, she dressed quite conservatively so Vaya Sage had guessed she was overweight in the past. Observing her now, he could tell otherwise. Her cheeks undoubtedly contributed to his previous misperception. Perhaps overly round, her visage was framed by a playful bob cut that did little besides make her appear overweight and too young to get into a bar without ID. Attractive nearly-amber eyes stood out as her most redeeming facial feature.
Vaya Sage didn’t move, sat stoically as he contemplated how to direct the upcoming conversation. He’d been pondering that very topic for a few hours now but he hadn’t really made any progress. Should he start with an accusation and put her on the defensive? That approach came naturally. Should he expose his confusion? That was the least intuitive approach but it might be the most likely approach to regain trust and obtain useful information. Threats in interrogations were typically ineffective but they were useful in other situations. This could be one of them. He could start by showing her Midi Ella’s corpse.
He threw a stick into the small campfire and looked into the distance where he’d lain Midi Ella. He estimated the bacteria had rendered her visibly unidentifiable by now. By morning, the bacteria would have consumed enough of her body that no forensic expert would venture to come within ten feet of her corpse. Bacteria didn’t care if flesh was alive or dead so the threat of contamination was a dreadful risk.
Vaya Sage returned his gaze to Ji Anna. He registered no emotion as he watched her face recoil in fear as the reality of her bondage sunk in. Nor did he feel any emotion when her expression waxed relieved and grateful to find him sitting not far away or when it morphed a third time to show bewilderment. That was his clue. Now he knew how to approach the situation.
“What’s your name?”
Ji Anna scowled with confusion and drew in a deep breath with mouth slightly agape as she struggled to process what was happening.
“Vaya Sage, you—”
“How do you know my name?”
“Uhhh.”
He doubted her eloquence would surface any time soon, pressed the question to bolster his shammed ignorance. “What. Is. Your. Name?”
She hesitated, looked around the growing dark of the evening. “Ji Anna Fen—”
“And how do you know my name?” he interjected.
“You’re part of our movement, a group of political insurgents.”
“You lie,” he fumed, feigning anger, “you’ve been hunting me.”
There it was.
Vaya Sage doubted anyone could falsely pretend to be as shocked and confused as Ji Anna looked now, at least not without practice or anticipation. But her response only drew out more questions he hadn’t contemplated. He hadn’t doubted the reality of his question. Ji Anna had sent two hit men with a ZN5 unit and, possibly, Midi Ella.
Ji Anna lay speechless, shaking her head and looking as pensive as any philosopher ever did. “How could I be hunting you,” she asked with unmasked sincerity, tugging at her bonds with palpable discomfort and conspicuously trying to adjust her night gown without any hands. “You’re our only hit man.”
The last three words hit Vaya Sage like a semi truck. His gut coiled in knots as a memory surfaced. Monta Vy interviewed him, laughed over things only ex-military would understand. They’d discussed weapon preferences, ideologies, political intrigues, loyalty to country and principles of freedom. The middle-aged man was missing a few toes from hostilities he’d seen as a young man. He’d been looking for someone young and able to work on the ground, a sniper with military experience to help with the insurgency. Vaya Sage boasted a markedly heftier background in combat than Monta Vy could have hoped for and every other credential he’d asked for as well. He searched his memory but he didn’t recall seeing Monta Vy in the conference room. It didn’t matter. His mind reeled relentlessly.
Ji Anna stared at Vaya Sage with what appeared to be concern, compassion. “What happened to you?”
He looked toward Midi Ella to avoid making eye contact with Ji Anna. What had happened? He tightened his jaw, moved it back and forth as he contemplated how to play his cards. He was in more need of answers than he cared to admit. He decided to begin with undeniable facts.
“Just over a week ago, you sent two men into a bar in south town. They shot memory granules at patrons and then began taking shots with a ZN5 unit. I didn’t stick around but I retrieved the ZN5 unit and one of their holo-units exposing your involvement in the assassination of Mahal Ashbaz and his children.” He unzipped his bag, exposed the unmistakable sleek black design.
If Ji Anna was trying to pretend to be in awe, she was doing a fine job. “Vaya Sage,” she said, her voice soft and convincing. “You know we could never afford a portable ZN5 unit.”
“And yet, here it is,” he answered.
Ji Anna looked pensive for nearly a full minute before responding. “Do you have my purse?”
“Of course, I already did a brain scan and removed privacy settings. No more secrets.”
Instead of responding angrily, Ji Anna surprised Vaya Sage. “Perfect.” She sighed, looked relieved. “Did you look up the article on the world database?”
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s not there. I saw Mahal Ashbaz—” Her words trailed as she thought over details. “Three days ago. He couldn’t have been assassinated over a week ago.”
Vaya Sage snapped his head, stared at Ji Anna with such intensity that she winced, closed her eyes, and looked away.
It couldn’t be.
Without hesitation, he reached for her holo-unit, pulled up the world database, and punched in a time limited search on Mahal Ashbaz. Nothing showed up for the last month. Apparently his travel plans hadn’t made the news. That could be expected. But chances of an assassination not showing up on the world database were infinitesimally small … unless Ji Anna had blocked them from her settings. He reviewed those carefully, determined they hadn’t been tampered with.
To be certain, he searched the rest of Ji Anna’s holo-unit with similar results. He realized she could have used global settings on her holo-unit to block any results concerning the assassination. Grumbling, Vaya Sage pulled his own holo-unit out of his pocket and searched the world database to double check rather than sort through Ji Anna’s global settings. But the results were the same. The article had been a fake.
But the ZN5 unit …
Vaya Sage shook his head, stared intently at Ji Anna, whose eyes were still shut. She looked surprisingly peaceful. He wondered if she was praying and rolled his eyes. She was superstitious like that, was probably petitioning her maker for help. He sighed, began considering possibilities.
All of the hits had been remarkably easy, which made sense if they had been political insurgents, not assassins. Few had been packing. That also fit her story - only a few had been ex-military. At least some of the hits had been memory implants. The ZN5 was not a memory implant, neither was Midi Ella. The article was fake. Was the order on innocents a falsified memory?
Vaya Sage moved to all fours, crawled to Ji Anna and lay next to her, his face nearly touching hers, and moved hair out of her face. She cringed but only slightly. She looked like a woman scared half to death but trying to remain stoic. He let his forefinger fall from her hair to trace down her neck and shoulder. She shivered and goosebumps resurfaced.
He grunted with gravel in his voice and jumped to his feet. Ji Anna flinched with her whole body.
She’s no assassin, he concluded. Nor was she a ruthless killer. He shook his head, deliberated over what line o
f questioning to pursue next when a flash of memories from earlier in the day resurfaced. He hated to ask but he had to. “Who’s Midi Ella?”
Something in his tone of voice must have given his malaise away. Ji Anna subtly gasped, looked at Vaya Sage with concern. When she spoke, it sounded as if she’d swallowed a lump in her throat that forced a whisper. “What did you do to her?”
“You answer first.”
“She’s my half-sister … and your ex. You broke her heart when you joined the insurgency. You left her to protect her but she never accepted that. She knew you still loved her and she believed in your cause.” Ji Anna paused, took a deep breath. “Please tell me she’s safe.”
A wave of terror fell over Vaya Sage unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Dread. Grief. Horror. None of these began to convey the emotions deluging his soul. Facing away from Ji Anna, he fell to his knees, nearly heaving and breathing laboriously. Summoning great self control, he trained his mind in a different direction, refused to allow room for any emotions. But some resurfaced, persisted, taunted him at every turn. He knew he needed to move the conversation elsewhere. He wasn’t going to hold up. He cleared his throat, swallowed.
“You said I was the only assassin.” His voice retained the gravel. It sounded unnatural to his own ears but that’s what it took to hold himself together.
“Yes.” Her answer came swiftly, without pretext. She breathed in quickly as if ready to return to her previous question but Vaya Sage would have nothing of it.
A dozen hits he’d made before meeting Treiliki flashed through his mind. He wondered if they were real. “Give me names.”
“Various corrupt government officials. Men and women using power to destroy our freedoms …”
“Names,” he all but shouted in frustration. “I want names.”
“Jenna Paltalay, Haydn Preyim, Gri Rinto.” Ji Anna paused, looked pensive. “Ashen Lei, Benton Ayva …”
“Okay.” Vaya Sage forced himself to breath steadily. It all felt right. Nothing messy there. Ji Anna was the daughter of a powerful governor in Washington who’d been slowly building a group of allies from once-red-states bent on retaining some semblance of autonomy. Her vision of restoring the freedoms of America had resounded strongly in his heart. Once a sniper in the Marines, Vaya Sage had offered to help Ji Anna and the insurgency take out the bad guys. If there ever was such a thing. After a sloppy hit, he’d been worried for Midi Ella …
He grunted again, cleared his throat, sniffed.
“Who’s Treiliki?”
Vaya Sage tried to discern the look on Ji Anna’s face but it seemed one of great conflict. Concern, fear, grief, frustration - it all seemed to be right there on the surface.
Already prone on the ground, she looked at nearby grasses as if they might somehow know the answer. Was she despondent? She sighed. “You never believed me before. Why ask me now?”
Vaya Sage nearly shouted at Ji Anna, demanding an answer but uncertainty kept him from feigning a threatening environment upon the young woman any longer. His heart told him they were on the same side. Resurfacing memories told him she was telling the truth. And while contrary memories suggested otherwise, he continually found reasons to doubt their veracity. He raised himself from his knees and returned to her side.
She closed her eyes again, seemed determined not to wince or be afraid as he grabbed her hands.
Deftly, he pulled the same blade he’d used to kill Midi Ella from its sheath and cut through Ji Anna’s bonds, releasing her hands both from the tree and themselves. He looked at the twine binding her ankles and considered releasing them as well but decided against it for now. He walked a few paces away.
“Who’s Treiliki?” he asked again, deliberately and slowly separating the words and trying to govern both his emotions and his gruffness to reasonable levels.
“Treiliki is part of an elite community of monks. Covered up by various governments for centuries, they live in deep areas of forest—”
“Cut to the chase,” Vaya Sage interrupted. “Who is she?” Despite a deliberate effort to be less intimidating, each word came out forceful, deliberate.
Ji Anna sighed. “She’s a mage,” she said, adding nothing more but silence.
“Holy hell,” Vaya Sage answered, rolling his eyes and kicking a low branch jutting out from a nearby tree. It broke with little protest, clung onto the tree with whatever remained intact. “You don’t believe that crap. No one believes in … Who is she really?” He turned and looked intently into Ji Anna’s eyes, hoping she’d quit playing and talk straight with him. He’d been on the verge of trusting her until now. And the last thing he needed was more uncertainty, more distrust.
She held his gaze without flinching. It was written all over her face. Her answer wasn’t going to change.
Vaya Sage scoffed, walked away.
TREILIKI
VAYA SAGE SET HIS MAGMA RIFLE OVER THE EDGE OF THE PARAPET, peered through the scope, and waited for Treiliki to walk by an open window to her apartment. He took a deep breath, scrunched his nose. Why anyone in Treiliki’s position would choose to live in the smoggy part of town adjoining the industrial sector was beyond him. It reeked like old school vehicle exhaust as best as he could remember it.
He sat on an abandoned crate, leaned over the weapon as he covered himself with a thin camo-throw. Designed after cephalopods, camo-throws were an assassin’s best friend when stealth outweighed comfort. A mere three stories higher than Treiliki’s apartment, it was the only viable choice today. While others preferred invisibility cloaks, he found them too glitchy and noisy to be his first choice. He’d be drenched in sweat in a couple of hours but he knew best results require sacrifices. Ji Anna was already hiding underneath hers but it must have unnerved her to observe his slowly adorn the colors and textures of the parapet where he’d attached one corner because she started talking again.
“Don’t shoot her,” Ji Anna reminded him, “unless she’s alone.”
“I remember,” Vaya Sage grumbled, more to pacify her than anything else. Ji Anna’s voodoo-esque paranoia had worn on his nerves as he’d listened to her stories all morning: Treiliki can control minds, make you do things you don’t want to do. Treiliki can levitate objects. Treiliki can transfer her consciousness to others so you can never kill her unless you take her by surprise - and even then, you have to exercise great care if someone else is around. They were great stories - effective street lore to prevent rivals from executing you. If anyone believed you. Vaya Sage was too cynical for any of that. He’d rather call a spade a spade. Bedtime stories. That was all.
He felt like cramming an age old adage down Ji Anna’s throat: superior technology often looks like magic. Ji Anna had seen enough in her life to know better than to believe in magic but somehow, Treiliki had left such a strong impression upon her that reason was no longer a tool worth employing. Everyone has lies they like to believe, he reminded himself. Maybe believing Treiliki was an elite, clandestine mage helped Ji Anna cope with the failing progress of her insurgency, the vast level of corruption that deluded the country. Maybe Treiliki’s very presence created one of those comforting lies that makes difficulties more tolerable.
Vaya Sage wasn’t certain he wanted to kill Treiliki anyway. He had unanswered question to appease and the possibility that he could access his own brain files to restore erased memories was tantalizing to say the least. Clearly, she had superior technologies. Access to those technologies could fetch a hefty payday when he was finished using them.
And he had the perfect plan.
“I know you think a long range shot addresses the element of surprise but—”
“Shhh,” he interrupted, moving underneath the cloak extra to make it appear he was busy concentrating on something important. In reality, he just didn’t want to listen any more. People like Ji Anna reminded him why he was a recluse. Too much talking. Other people enjoyed her sociality - there was no doubt about that. She had charisma. But Vaya Sage didn’t trus
t her thinking. Clearly, she’d profit from more thinking and less talking but he wouldn’t be the one teaching her that lesson so he’d settled for the next best lesson: shushing.
The moment Treiliki entered his field of vision, Vaya Sage knew he had a problem. “Holy—”
“What do you see?”
“Shhh.”
Two images of Treiliki registered on Vaya Sage’s scope. Lady Luck had to be the most unfaithful trollop he’d ever run across. He released an odd sound, some unholy cross between a grunt and a low hiss, as he began an internal debate over which image was real and which image was a false projection. Or, if Treiliki had technology he didn’t, perhaps neither was original. Perhaps both images were the result of light bending … He swore underneath his breath. So much for a perfect plan. He didn’t have a machine gun version of a magma-rifle that shot drugged darts instead of live rounds. That’s what he’d need if neither image was original.
Unless he wanted to sacrifice ever learning the truth about his past by killing her outright.
He trained his eye carefully on the left image to see if there were any perceptible glitches as Treiliki moved from one area of the apartment to another. He perceived nothing as she sat down, placed a steaming beverage on the coffee table next to her.
That gave him an idea.
Vaya Sage turned on the heat vision overlay, adjusted it for bright daylight, and grinned as the right image nearly merged with the heat vision overlay. He estimated they were at least a centimeter inconsistent. From his current position, he estimated that full centimeter discrepancy could result in a non-lethal shot even with the scope carefully trained on the heart or brain.
But that wouldn’t matter today. As he wiped the first appearance of perspiration from his forehead, he debated whether he should take a shot right then or wait for a better opportunity.
That’s when Treiliki surprised him a second time.