Whispers in the Code Page 7
She’s beautiful, like an elf from one of the rebels’ comic books.
I hook my fingers through the chain-link fence. She turns, her black hair flowing against the soft breeze. There’s just the hint of blush in her cheeks. Her hips sway as she moves, the transparent, gossamer dress revealing the smooth curves of her lithe form. She cocks her head and presses herself against the fence, her breath purring through white, pearly fangs. I reach my hand through the metal loops and brush her hair behind her pointed ears. “Hello,” I whisper. She links her clawed fingers over mine and runs her tongue along my hand. A shiver of pleasure crawls through my spine. If I could be inside the cage with her…
“Chiharu, stop that at once!”
The beastie flees and I stumble from the fence. Several meters away, she pouts. I blink. What in the Community happened? My hand is slobbery. I wipe my fingers against the side of my pants.
“Sorry about that, sir.” The officer’s face goes bright red, though he fails to hide his grin. “It won’t happen again.”
I twist the efficiency charm between my fingers and cast a furtive look to the amused creature. “What… what kind of beast is she?”
“Persuasion.” The officer glances toward the beastie, but she’s turned her attention to an attractive male in the cage across from her. “We use them as bait for the foot soldiers the OA sends against us.”
My chest burns with embarrassment. Lady Black is known for keeping the company of such beasts. So do other leaders who don’t want to worry about offspring.
“I see. Let’s continue, shall we?”
“Of course.” He chuckles as he murmurs “amateur” under his breath, and then moves on to the next set of creatures.
When we finally return to the makeshift command station, I sit in a metal chair and stare at the lazy ceiling fan. My forehead throbs. I need some sort of mental defense against beasts like Chiharu, or any persuasion power. Otherwise I’m a liability to the entire Camaraderie—and to Val.
The officer offers me a glass of water. “Are you all right?”
I take it, gladly sipping the refreshing drink through chunks of ice. “I’m fine. I’m thinking of how we can improve this station.”
The officer’s eyes widen, and he takes a seat beside me. “Thank you, sir.”
I lick my lips. “Didn’t Lady Winters do anything to help?”
“She was interested in the beasts, of course, but she didn’t do much to improve our work. Forgive me, sir, I don’t mean to demean her processes, but—”
I hold up my hand, wishing I had something for the headache. Maybe I’m not as okay as I thought. “Don’t worry. I understand.” I pause. “Is your medic available?”
He removes a radio from his belt and pages the healer. She appears beside me in a moment’s blink. Before I have a chance to tell her what’s wrong, the headache is gone.
“Better?” she asks.
I open my mouth to speak, then stop. That was fast. “Much.” I scoot the chair around to face her, and grimace as the metal legs grate against the rough concrete. “Do you heal beasts in battle?”
“Experienced ones, yes. Unfortunately, the beasts we send in for distraction, the ones who take the most damage, are usually too far gone by the time the mechs are finished with them.”
“What if we could suspend their lives temporarily? Or heal them as they go down?” I ask.
The corners of her lips turn to a frown. “If we were a larger battalion, I’m sure that would help, but we don’t have the manpower.”
I reach into the database, plucking information from their recent attacks and strategies, and details about the armies who might eventually make their way here. This is one of several infantries. Overall, the beasts have been an effective nuisance, slowly picking off the bigger mechs like a leech weakening its host. But this infantry won’t be able to take out mechs by themselves. If I could get them another beastmaster, one who could train the novice beasts to be deadly and take down mechs, they could focus on ambush rather than direct assault.
I note the important things on my tablet, including the research I’ll need to back it, and send my notes to the waiting Legion Spore. Commander Rick can read them later.
By the time I’ve returned to reality from my use of techno sight, the healer sits with a glass of water in hand, softly chatting with the officer. I sit up and they both snap to attention. “Thank you for your time.” I smile and stand. “I think I have what information I need, and I will present it to the commander for his analysis.”
The healer’s jaw drops, though she quickly snaps it shut and bows her head. A strand of black hair falls across her tan face. “Thank you, Master Zaytsev.”
The officer enthusiastically shakes my hand. “We appreciate it. May your endeavors be efficient.”
I leave the enclosures behind and head to the outer fence. The computers’ rush of code fades behind me, letting something smaller pass through my senses. My skin crawls. The translated code isn’t English. I link it to the translator on my tablet, and it comes back as Japanese.
The Oriental Alliance is nearby.
My heart thumps loudly as I lock out the OA scout’s tablet and reach to the Legion Spore through techno sight.
Yes, Master Zaytsev?
I relay the coordinates and connect to its eyes. We focus on a small cluster of trees. A woman with the OA’s red dragonfly symbol on her shoulder stares at the sky. Her face is pale with fright. She’s seen us. We suspend her life, forcing her body into an unconscious, perpetual sleep. Her body goes slack.
Bring her on board for questioning, Commander Rick orders.
Yes, Commander.
We form a portal underneath the woman and drop her onto a metal walkway within our hull. Tentacles grow from the floor to bind her arms and legs. Even if she could wake, she cannot escape. Now that the scout is harmless, we follow her transmitter’s intended stream of data until we’ve erased everything she might have sent. No one must know we exist. But the source reveals maps, locations, and rosters. We download information we aren’t meant to have. It is ours. The scout could join us, as well. She has powers: speed, beast mastery, and increased perception. We could include her into our consciousness. If not that, nutrition. Our food tanks will empty if we do not hunt. We could teleport her to our tentacles and she wouldn’t feel anything in her comatose state. Her flesh would dissolve into proteins and nucleotides. She would—
Master Zaytsev. Commander Rick’s voice is firm.
I gag, hunching in the grass outside the fence, then vomit. Blades of grass prick my hands. My head spins, and I feel like he’s pried open my mind like a clam shell in order to free me from the Legion Spore. I sever my connection and thank the Community that the airship only teleported the scout inside and didn’t actually eat her. The Legion Spore left an all too vivid image of how it devours its prey.
For a moment the idea of eating the scout actually seemed appealing.
I wipe my mouth on my sleeve, completely aware of how pathetic I must look, lying in the grass like this. The medic kneels beside me and calms my churning stomach with her life-spirit powers. “Take it easy,” she whispers. I bury my face between my knees and groan. I feel better, but the repulsive image remains. “What happened?”
My lips pucker. How much should I tell her? They aren’t even aware of the Legion Spore yet. “I sensed spy technology. I shut it down, but the rest is classified.”
“Understood.” She helps me to my feet, allowing me time to brush off leaves and pollen from my behind. “Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head and steady myself against her. “No, thank you. But I need to contact the commander. Can I use your radio?” The device is in my hands before I realize she has it out. I thank her and turn the knobs, finding the established connection without using techno sight. I’m not ready to reach out again until I have a nice mental block in place against the Legion Spore. I don’t like being it.
The radio crackles. “I read you.”
“Requesting a portal to these coordinates.” Hesitantly, I send our coordinates over the radio, careful to keep my power in check. No need to sense the Legion Spore accidently. Like Stuart said, right now my powers are still overly sensitive.
A portal forms in front of me. The healer retreats. I take a deep breath, and then step into the swirling violet mass. In seconds, I’m in the Legion Spore’s command room with Commander Rick standing before me. He crosses his arms. “What happened?” he demands. His white eyebrows furrow across his wrinkles. “Why didn’t you use your powers?”
I clutch my tablet in my hands. The vessel is too warm. The whispers of the Legion Spore flit at the edge of my consciousness. I can barely breathe. But I look outside the window… I’ve never been so glad to see outside the window of a flying ship before. Broad leaves rustle in a wind I wish I could feel, and a monkey swings into view from the trees.
“Timothy?”
I flinch as he emphasizes my name, not even the respectful title. “I linked with the Legion Spore so I could remove the threat. But I didn’t expect it to… take control.” My stomach churns. I hate admitting I wasn’t in control of my own mind. That once I’d linked to the vessel, we were one.
The commander leans his arm against the command chair’s armrest. “Timothy, m’boy, being a leader means you must remain strong both mentally and physically. This is a matter of international and personal security.” He sighs and removes his pistol from its holster.
I freeze. He wouldn’t shoot me, would he? This wasn’t that big of a mistake. My breath comes out panicked, but he simply removes a handkerchief from his tan shirt pocket and proceeds to polish the barrel.
“No matter what your situation, you should know every way in and out. You are an intelligent young man; your powers dictate this. You may not have the boosted willpower of a life-spirit elemental, but your enhanced intelligence is your defense.” He pauses, wiping away a bit of grit from the gun. The skin around his eyes crinkles as he smiles. “Sometimes the best defense is merely knowing that someone is trying to manipulate you.”
My thoughts flit to the persuasion beast, to how quickly I’d gone to the fence.
The commander chuckles. “Yes, m’boy. That would be an instance where knowing the beast’s tactics prove useful. Consider this: now that you know what a persuasion beast looks like, you have a stronger chance of reasoning why you shouldn’t be attracted to them. Your intelligence will win, provided you let it. Many do not.” He sits back in the seat. I glance through the acrylic glass window. I wish I could prevent the Legion Spore from taking control every time we join minds, and I wish I could protect myself from being persuaded.
“In due time, Master Zaytsev. Once we return, I’ll have Lady Black instruct you in the art of mental blocks.” Commander Rick raises his chin proudly.
A cold sweat breaks out along the back of my neck. Lady Black? But what if I fail? I’d betray Val!
I shake my head. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, sir.”
“Lady Black is skilled in persuasion,” the commander insists, “but she has no telepathy or life-spirit power to prevent her from being controlled herself. Only once has she truly failed such a task, and that instance has been dealt with. She will teach you.”
My heart sinks. “Yes, sir.”
“Good man. Now, let’s get on with training.”
He contacts the officer I spoke with earlier, informing him of the training exercise and giving him a heads up about the Legion Spore. For the next several hours, Commander Rick shows me different beast formations, how to attack, and when to withdraw. He commands the Legion Spore himself, instructing me to make changes to the code as necessary. Then, finally, it’s my turn.
I reluctantly tie my mind into the vessel’s code, but I keep my distance from its intelligence matrix. Only once do I find myself in the Legion Spore’s consciousness. Commander Rick pulls me out within moments of its happening, and then chastises me for dropping my guard. But I soon have the hang of routing commands through the Legion Spore and using its beast mastery to control the armies. The beasts only attack predetermined objects or wait in ambush, but the process shows me what I need to know: by using the Legion Spore, I have a whole host of powers at my disposal.
“Enough of this,” Commander Rick says, breaking me from my trance. Outside, the sky is dark with thick, navy clouds. The Legion Spore’s internal clock suggests we’re long past dinner. “You captured a prisoner,” he continues. “Let us interrogate her before the day is over.”
I’ve been avoiding the subject ever since the Legion Spore wanted to eat her.
Commander Rick and I climb to the lower floor. The OA scout lays unconscious with long, slick tentacles binding her to the leathery wall. “Master Zaytsev, have the Legion Spore link you telepathically to her mind.”
I flinch, but give the silent command.
I float at the edge of memory. Her life is suspended, so her thoughts are silent.
“Are you familiar with hub interrogation tactics?” he asks. The look he gives me is similar to the distant look Lady Winters gave me whenever she read my mind. He doesn’t need my response; he’s searching for himself.
“I understand the basic principles.”
“Good. Let’s see what you can do.” He turns back to the woman in the camouflage uniform. Her short, black hair falls across her face, one strand trapped listlessly between her lips. My chest constricts. I’m glad she doesn’t know what’s happening. I’ve never actually interrogated anyone before. That was Lady Winters’ job—and I still can’t forget the screams she elicited several doors from my room.
“What do you want to know?” I ask.
“Anything of use. Plans, weapons… where she came from, and why she was here.” He purses his lips and his mustache twitches.
“Yes, sir.” I take a deep breath. “Do we have anything to block her powers?”
The commander nods. “The Legion Spore. Normally we would use the injection method, but it’s too dangerous to carry adominogen around here.”
I understand why. The Legion Spore holds itself together using powers. A Benjamin’s shield—a device which blocks powers, or an injection of adominogen—like the one I received after killing Lady Winters, would cause the vessel to fall apart. I shiver. It’s not a pleasant thought to have while standing several thousand meters above the Earth.
“Legion Spore,” I instruct, “suspend the prisoner’s powers, then bring her to a semi-conscious state.”
Yes, Master Zaytsev.
The woman’s thoughts stir in my mind via the Legion Spore and techno sight. Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn’t come to. I let out a sigh I didn’t know I was holding. I don’t want her to wake to this.
“She is a prisoner of war,” Commander Rick reminds me. “Do what is necessary to obtain the information.”
I wring my hands. I’m not comfortable with this arrangement, but while I’m here, it’s my job to make sure the Legion Spore functions properly—including running an interrogation, if need be. I focus on her thoughts as if they were programming, and I’m surprised at the resemblance. Maybe it’s because I’m using techno sight to read her, but her thoughts clear for me. Fear, confusion… and a struggle to wake. There’s a splash of water in her mind, and she takes a sharp breath. She thinks she’s drowning.
Picture a boat, offer her a hand, the commander advises.
I do, and it’s as if I’m looking at a picture projected on translucent glass. The woman’s dream-self takes my hand. She gasps, leaning against the railing of what I realize now is the boat I rode on with the rebels while we were in Japan. My image, my thoughts, are transposed onto hers. Her eyes widen. The image explodes into rapid words and Japanese characters I can’t read.
Legion Spore—translate.
The words reform and her
voice repeats the same story over and over. Something about the death of a serpent which yields a sword to the victor. I search it in EYEnet’s database. It’s a myth, I realize, and she’s using it to distract herself from revealing her secrets.
Some targets use familiar stories, Commander Rick agrees. Others play games in their minds, or sing songs. Are you familiar with how to break such walls?
I nod absently. Those techniques must be why the commander was so fond of singing ballads whenever Lady Winters was present. Problem is, I’m not sure where to start.
Listen to the story. Subtly derail it.
A memory flickers in my mind—one I’ve tried to forget—of how Lady Winters would shift from image to image of torturous scenes before I had any clue that I was no longer focused on reality.
I listen again to the captive’s tale. I’m not sure how the serpent will help me, but the warrior I can use. I shift the woman’s image of an ancient warrior to a modern day OA soldier. The serpent writhes in the ocean, changing into an ambiguous form, and then reforms into the Legion Spore, eight distinct tentacles thrashing along the tops of trees.
Again I check the database. The original tale had a serpent with eight heads and eight tails, and the victor slew the creature by getting it drunk. Not exactly conducive to my trying to get information. Unless—if she thinks she’s won, maybe she’ll relax.
I push the scene further, and the soldier sets up eight computer terminals, meant to attract the monster’s attention. I continue coaxing the scene, suggesting that when the Legion Spore wraps its tentacles around each of the terminals, they explode. The monster collapses, and she emerges triumphant.
Where would she go afterward? Who would she tell? I push the thoughts into her mind. She removes a sword—no, a tablet with secret information—from the creature’s body, then appears in front of a base surrounded by a towering city of lights with distinct skyscrapers—Tokyo.