Paige lowered her eyes, a little embarrassed. “I’m just a glorified secretary,” she admitted.
Carl frowned. “No, you’re not. You’re an interplanetary businesswoman. And it sounds like you’re also the glue that holds that team together. And even though you can’t tell me what it is the team does, it sounds like it’s pretty high-powered and intense at times.” He watched her, observing how self-conscious she was under the surface of her easy ways and entertaining conversation.
“You know what I think?” he offered.
Paige leaned on the table, pushing her half empty mocha out of the way. “What do you think, Carl?” she grinned a little bashfully.
He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I think that you’ve forgotten to upgrade the picture you have of yourself,” he told her.
Paige frowned. “On my profile?” she asked, thinking how old the picture was she was using.
He shook his head. “Nah-ah. I’m talking about the pictures you have inside your mind,” he explained, tapping his own temple. “Your self-perception.” He paused, taking a last swig of his beer. “I think you seriously underestimate what you’re doing, and what you’re capable of,” he added.
Paige tilted her head, considering his words. Slowly, she started nodding her head. “You know what?” she said. “I think you may be right.” A relaxed smile spread slowly across her lips, lighting up her face.
Carl put his glass down on the table. “I know I am,” he added confidently, looking deeply into her eyes.
Paige flushed; stunned both by the revelation, and that someone was actually seeing her.
“I hope you’ll allow me to take you out again sometime very soon?” Carl ventured.
Paige’s eyes widened. “Of course!” she almost laughed. “I’d really like that, Carl. You’re fascinating and fun and… Yes. I’d like that.”
They finished their drinks and parted ways outside the restaurant. All the way back to the base, Paige played and replayed the highlights of the evening’s conversations.
Gaitune-67? she thought. Try Cloud-frikkin-9!
Chom-X9, Giles's prison cell
There was a clunk at the door. Giles lifted his head, and looked over his shoulder as he lay on his rack.
He heard the familiar sound of the keypad.
Beep, beep beep… Beep.
Over the last several weeks, he’d contemplated the different keystroke combinations it could have been. Of course, all that would become irrelevant if it wasn’t even a human digit code. It came down to a combination on the array that was easy to reach in the spaced repetition of the beeps.
He sighed, sitting up as the door slid open.
An ugly Zhyn guard, with a face chiseled by years of resentment, stepped into the cell with him. His friend put a foot in the doorway to prevent the door from sliding back.
“You’re up, pretty boy,” he said, holding out the cuffs and neck brace.
Giles shuffled off the bunk, over the metal ledge that dug into his thighs as he moved. He stood up, straightening himself out, ready for his manacles.
He eyed the neck brace. “Is that really necessary?” he asked, more as a test of the dynamic than wanting rid of it. Though it was uncomfortable. And threatening - knowing he could be shocked at any moment.
The guard didn’t answer. He just moved forward and clipped the round frame around his neck like a dog collar. Then he roughly turned Giles around to cuff his hands.
Giles kept his temperament neutral. He knew when to push and when to conserve his energy.
The guard grabbed his ill-fitting shirt, and tugged him towards the door.
“Where are we going today, boys?” Giles asked congenially.
The second guard, who was waiting by the door, responded. “Boss wants to see you up top,” he told him simply.
Giles nodded. “Probably wants my opinion on his next move,” he said nonchalantly, watching for any reactions out of the corner of his eye.
The ugly guard pushed him forward, and followed him out the door, fake laughing. “And why would he want your opinion?” he scoffed.
Giles stopped in his tracks and turned to face the Zhyn. “Why would he keep inviting me up there to talk with him? What do you think we do for all those hours?” He held the guard’s stare, planting the seed of doubt in his tiny brain. Then, a moment before he thought he might be pushing it, he relented and turned on his heels, walking with an air of civility after the second guard.
Point to Kurns, he thought smugly to himself. Oh, yes. I may be the one in physical chains, but at least I’m not chained by my personality and fears.
* * *
There was a beep at the door, and Shaa called for them to enter. Giles was pushed through first, followed by the two meatheads.
“Good day to you, Lord High Marshall Shaa,” Giles started, more for the benefit of the guards than for his relationship with Shaa.
Shaa grunted, and signaled to the seats he had set out. The guards pushed Giles over to them, and he managed to stumble a little ahead and sit of his own volition.
Giles nodded to the guards as if dismissing them, and then turned his attention to Shaa. “So what would you like to discuss today?” he asked.
Shaa waved the guards to leave, and they clunked out of the room, exchanging questioning looks about the dynamic they had just witnessed. Giles crossed his legs casually, leaning back in the hard wooden chair.
Shaa wandered over to sit near him, in a more comfortable, ergonomically enhanced chair. “It looks like there is an opportunity to invade the Kroll system.”
Giles looked serious all of a sudden. “The Kroll System? What use would that be to you?”
Shaa puffed his chest a little. “Well, it would be a coup in that it’s Federation-controlled space. And it would be fairly easy to take with the forces I’ve amassed already.”
Giles rubbed his chin. “Hmm. I’m… I’m not sure what advantage it would be to you, though.”
Shaa looked curious. “How do you mean?” he asked gruffly.
Giles pretended to look casually thoughtful. “Well, it will take resources to go at it, right? You’d have to commit troops and ships.”
“Of course,” Shaa confirmed.
Giles continued, shifting in his seat to try and get a little more comfortable. “And those troops and ships will be there, having to defend that area from the Federation taking it back. You’d have no one to guard here, if you commit those.”
Shaa leaned up a little. “But no one knows we’re here.”
Giles pulled back on his arrogance to respond. “I found you, didn’t I?” He carefully balanced his tone.
Shaa wasn’t offended. “Yes, but you’re clever,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
Giles smiled bashfully, and then turned his expression to one more serious. “And the Federation has lots of clever people… which means you need to be smart. Much smarter than them.”
Shaa Harrumphed and sat up, perching on the edge of his seat. “Of course you’re trying to stop me - ”
Giles relaxed his shoulders a little more, trying to show he had no stake in the game. “No, no. I mean, if you want to do it, then great. I’m behind you. But… let me ask you this. What is your end game?”
Shaa’s face lit with passion as he pumped one fist into the palm of his other hand. “I want the Federation to suffer. I want the Zhyn Empire to be free again. I want to return the power to those who deserve it.”
Giles nodded, pretending to listen carefully, his therapist face on. He was aware that he was just getting the official propaganda that the commander normally trotted out to his people. “Great,” Giles ventured. “So what strategic advantage does it give you to control the Kroll space?”
The Zhyn fell silent; he was feeling stupid, but searching for a way to hide it. To regain his posture. His face crumpled up, and Giles could see the anger boiling up around his straining neck. Shaa muttered something un
der his breath as he rose from his chair and paced across his office, but Giles couldn’t make it out.
Giles waited, counting in his head. One Jah-Dune. Two Jah-Dune. Three Jah-Dune. Then he spoke.
“I mean, I can see why it’s an exciting opportunity,” he began sympathetically.
He paused, pretending to think. “Although… how did you come by this information; the intel that led you down this path of thought?”
Shaa turned back to Giles, a look of frustrated confusion on his face. “I… I… My people told me that they were - ”
Giles looked down into his lap, somewhat constrained by the cuffs holding his wrists behind him.
“What?” Shaa asks.
Giles looked up, an innocent but serious look in his eye. “Nothing…” he said, deliberately hesitating.
Shaa scowled. “What?” he said more forcefully.
Giles frowned to himself. “It’s… It’s probably nothing. I’m just being paranoid.”
Shaa took a step closer, his scowl not letting up.
Giles relented. “Okay, it’s just a thought that occurred to me. What if the Federation wanted you to think that area would be worth attacking?”
Shaa waited.
Giles continued. “Well, they might choose a place that was of little strategic advantage, lure you out there with the rumors it was lightly guarded, and then set a trap. Or, at the very least, have you overcommitted there, not guarding your base, so they can swoop in and…” He let the thought carry itself.
Shaa seemed to get the picture. He nodded, relieved that he was clever enough to have seen it coming. “Yes! Those sneaky assholes. But I’m too smart for them. I won’t be drawn into -”
Giles’s expression was still solemn.
Shaa noticed. “There’s something else?”
Giles lowered an eyebrow, turning his head awkwardly. “Well… I’m just wondering. Who specifically gave you this information?”
Shaa waved one hand dismissively. “Why, Davon, of course.”
“Davon,” Giles repeated deliberately. “Daaaaaa-von,” he said again, drawing the name out quietly, luring Shaa in.
Shaa took the bait.
“Why? What are you thinking?” he asked, his frown turning to an expression of mistrust and curiosity.
Giles used his therapist voice, and kept his tone flat. “You tell Davon everything?”
Shaa nodded once, decisively. “Yes, he’s my - wait a minute. You don’t suspect that Davon is a traitor, do you?”
Giles shook his head dismissively. “No no. I’m sure he’s as loyal as the day you met. He’s never given you any reason to doubt him, I’m sure.” Giles looked in the direction of the windows, able to see only a glimpse of the panorama from where he was situated.
“How did you get on with that other issue we discussed?” he asked, changing the subject, knowing that his mere suggestion would work its way like a worm into Shaa’s paranoid psychosis.
Chapter 15
Chom-X9, Giles’s Prison Cell
It was the middle of the night. Well, that’s what Giles assumed, based on the fact that he was fast asleep when it happened.
At first, he couldn’t be sure. There was a bang in his dream, but then as he came back to the reality of his metal cell, it echoed in his mind as if it might have come from this world.
He listened, waiting for another sign that he wasn’t just dreaming.
He often dreamed of being rescued - of all of his isolation and discomfort finally being over. He dreamed of seeing Arlene, or the General’s team, bust through the door to his cell, and reclaim him into the comfort of civilization. And books.
Oh, how he missed his -
BANG.
Bash, bash… Bash.
SLAM.
A sound like the slamming of a door rang through the cell. But it wasn’t his door. It must be next door, the cell next to him.
He heard voices. He recognized the tone of the guards; the low, gruff grunting they made as they barked their orders at their subordinates.
Then there was a cry. A lighter-sounding voice. Still Zhyn, but it was someone who didn’t have any control. It sounded like pleading. Begging. Reasoning.
And then the guards’ footsteps walking away down the corridor.
Giles was up on his feet, listening intently. He put his ear to the wall on the side he thought the noise was coming from. It didn’t help. He stood back and waited.
Then there was a banging on what was probably the next door, and someone calling for help.
Giles moved quietly across the cold floor in his dirty, bare feet. “Hello?” he called through the door.
The banging stopped.
“Hello?” he called again.
There was a sniffling. “Hello?” the voice responded. “Are you a prisoner here, too?”
Giles’s heart leapt. The only people he had spoken to over the last several weeks of captivity were the guards and Shaa. “Yes. Yes I am,” he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically for an outsider to understand. “Who are you?”
The voice responded a little cautiously. “My name is Anton d’Zyll. I came here to join the cause. But for some reason they won’t have me. They’re calling me a traitor.”
Giles tilted his head in a half-shrug. “Well, technically, if you’re here, you are,” he pointed out, amusing even himself.
Anton was quiet. Giles could just about make out his breathing. He visualized him looking around his cell, trying to fathom how on earth he had gotten here. It was exactly what Giles had gone through.
How did I get here?
What events led to this point?
How could I have been so stupid?
Am I being punished by one of the gods or spiritual overlords I’ve offended in my travels?
He’d been through it all before realizing, after a few weeks, the ‘why’ wasn’t important. He was here. This was it. This was his reality right now.
This is what he had to work with.
He waited, allowing the new prisoner to acclimatize. And then, after a few moments of consideration, he padded back over to his bed and lay down. Waiting.
Gaitune-67, Operations Room, 43 days after dropping off Giles
Molly strode into the operations room, allowing the lights to come on automatically as a result of her movement. This was a ritual she’d been doing several times a week for over a month; ever since the celebratory pizza dinner after the Chaakwa case.
She carried with her a lemon tea - a sad and constant reminder of her sabbatical from mocha. She made her way to her usual console, and placed the antigrav mug on the ledge where she didn’t need to wave her hands. She prodded a few keys, and then sat back to wait.
“Greetings of the day, Gaitune!” A woman’s voice chirped through her earpiece before the holoscreen opened up.
“Greetings upon you, Arlene. How goes it over there?” Molly was pleased with herself for engaging in social chitchat. She’d been forcing herself to start and finish with something personable, and noticed that people actually bothered to respond in kind. She still felt it was superfluous, but Joel had assured her it was appreciated.
Arlene’s image opened up in front of her. “Oh, it’s going okay. Giles is in good spirits today. He was given an extra meal by the guard. I think he’s made a friend.”
Molly felt a wave of sadness flood through her chest. It was her fault he was in there, no matter what Arlene told her. Molly picked up her mug and took a sip of the tea. “Any sign of him getting out soon?” she asked.
It was the same question she had been asking on and off for the last forty something days.
Arlene bobbed her head while moving it side to side ever so slightly at the same time. Molly could read her. She was being optimistic, but didn’t really believe they were any closer. “He’s making progress,” she told Molly. “It seems that they’re still having semi-regular chats.”
Molly frowned. “
What have they been talking about this week?”
Arlene became vague. “Oh, you know. Military strategy. How Shaa can tell if he should trust his men… Mostly Giles is just an impartial sounding board.”
Molly shook her head as she listened. “And you sit through all this?” she asked.
Arlene nodded. “Oh yeah. Have to. It’s all part of what we do. Although most of it is drivel, it gives us insight into how to manipulate him.”
Molly sighed. “And so what are we looking for? I mean, to what end? Let’s face it. It’s not ever going to get to the point where Giles is going to be able to say, ‘Hey, be a good chap and let my people come and pick me up,’ is it?”
Arlene looked like she had been jarred out of her routine answers. “Well, no.”
Molly raised her shoulders and then dropped them again. “So, what, then?”
Arlene sat back a little in her console chair over on the ArchAngel. “We’ll just stay alert for an opening,” she explained. “It’s all we can do.”
Molly wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. “It’s been a month and half he’s been in that hellhole. We need to do more than look for an opening. I’ve got the team working on other options, but we need Giles to find something we can use.”
Arlene nodded. “Well, he’s gathering intel all the time, and ADAM is compiling a plan of the facility as Giles can reach different areas.”
Molly frowned again. “Is there nothing we can do in terms of hacking the system to get access to the whole schematics of the place?”
Arlene glanced ahead of her, looking beyond the camera. “I’m not sure. I’m assuming that ADAM is doing everything he can.”
Molly sat forward on her invisible console chair cum sofa. “Well, I’m a fan of AIs, as you know, but maybe there is something else we can do. Can you have a word with ADAM, and see if he can send us over whatever he has right now? Oz and I will take a look. It may be that it will help us with what we’re working on at this end,” she explained, careful not to infer that she thought that the world’s oldest and most evolved AI wasn’t up to the task.
The Ascension Myth Box Set Page 126
