You should show this to your commanding officers, I suggest. They’ll be pleased.
She weaves through the halls, appearing in front of a door to her superior’s office. Inside, maps rotate on a giant holographic screen of planned attack points. She presents the tablet, her commander proud.
The image fades as she drifts into unconsciousness, and my vision wavers as I find myself back in the murky halls of the living airship. I look to Commander Rick. “Anything else?” I ask. That wasn’t so bad. Almost pleasant, though I doubt most interrogations have such an ending.
Commander Rick shakes his head approvingly and I remove my mind from the scouts’ mind. She slumps against the fleshy wall. “Have the Legion Spore remove her spirit,” he says, “then dispose of the corpse.”
My throat constricts. I know that it isn’t practical to keep her around, but there’s still something unsettling about the idea of having just been in the mind of someone about to die. “Dispose?”
“The Legion Spore needs nutrients and, this way, there will be no evidence for the Oriental Alliance to find,” Commander Rick explains.
What he leaves unspoken sends shivers down my neck. “You want it” —I swallow hard— “to eat her?”
Commander Rick glances at me, and his cocked eyebrows indicates that he understands I’m not ready to give that command. I know he’s right. The process is efficient, but the idea doesn’t settle in my stomach.
Legion Spore, remove her spirit, he sends.
Her head lolls. I detect one less presence of life through the vessel’s scanners.
Legion Spore—consume the remaining body for sustaining nutrients. Keep the technology, which may be useful in further investigations.
Dozens of tiny, translucent tendrils extend from the ivory floor, wrapping around her body. They flatten against her arms and chest and her skin dissolves, revealing the muscle and bone beneath. The body melts away. I force myself to watch, despite the terror creeping through every pore of my skin.
Within a minute, she’s gone.
The tentacles reintegrate with the wall. Commander Rick picks up the remaining tablet and I turn away, clutching my light bulb charm.
A sense of intrigue pulls at the edge of my mind, like the Legion Spore is hoping I’ll share its interest in the nutrients of human flesh. But there’s something wrong about the Legion Spore’s curious desire to consume the body. I clench my fist, the charm digging into my palm. Jenna would never approve. Sure, the method is plenty efficient, but—
“Does Lady Salazar know about your obsession regarding your former ally?” Commander Rick asks.
“What?” I stare at him, perplexed.
“Your former ally—Miss Nickleson. Does Lady Salazar know about your obsession?”
I bite my lip. I hadn’t realized how often I consider what Jenna might say. “I’m not obsessed. It’s just… aside from joining the rebellion, Jenna is the most Community-oriented person I know,” I say quietly.
The commander raises his chin, listening. “Go on.”
“If it weren’t for Lady Winters’ brutality and mockery of efficiency, Jenna might have been more sympathetic to our cause. She idolized Lady Winters before she found out what the lady was really like.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t think she’s the rebel everyone thinks she is. She despises how callously they kill humans and beasts—and the threat they pose to the Community. The only reason she protests beastie creation is because she doesn’t see it as safe or secure.”
The commander inclines his head. “Why do you let yourself be distracted by what an enemy thinks of our techniques?”
I lower my eyes. I don’t think our philosophies are so different. Even though I’m repulsed that the Legion Spore would eat humans, it is more logical than discarding the body, or burning it. If Jenna were in my place, she might not fault the technique.
But Commander Rick is right. She’s not here; she’s with the rebels. For all I know, Jenna probably wants to strangle me after I chose to stay with Val… though I never did understand why she was so angry we got together. Jenna has her best friend, Lance. She has always had him, though she didn’t seem to notice until Val came around.
The commander chuckles. “Master Zaytsev, you are still thinking like a young man who has just entered a university: new opportunities, the prospect of a career, and the chance you might meet your future partner.” He smiles gently, but heat fans through my face. “As a leader, you needn’t concern yourself with such trivial matters. You have your entire career before you, and a partner who loves you.”
My jaw drops. I never expected him to tell me what he could see in her mind.
“Master Zaytsev, I don’t have to look into Lady Salazar’s mind to see that she cares. She argued adamantly to keep you alive, even against Lady Winters. No small feat. At one point the arguments became so heated that I wondered if I was about to witness the shortest Camaraderie council leadership in our history. Thankfully, Lady Salazar remains with us to this day.”
I close my mouth quickly. He motions me to the command room and sits in the chair, resting his chin against the bone of his knuckles. I stand before him, feet together, back straight. I wish I felt more confident.
“You will be challenged by much of what we do,” he continues. “In the Community, your tasks were simple: program basic systems, keep everything running smoothly… This job is not so simple. We call ourselves the Camaraderie of Evil because we are willing to take steps others wouldn’t dare consider. That’s the only way we can accomplish security and efficiency. I don’t personally believe we are evil, but the name stuck around from our earlier days, and they were… an interesting bunch.” A thoughtful smile quirks on his lips and he clasps his hands on his knee. Despite the relaxed position, he still carries an imposing presence.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“The Community is everything we promise. It is safe, secure, and efficient. Everyone has a secure job, with no fear of being mugged on the street or killed because of needless terrorism. They have food, shelter, and companionship. We rule the Community carefully, and the system works.” He pauses as he gathers his thoughts. “However, there is a price. When the Camaraderie was first formed, Lord Black determined that superpowers posed a threat to his utopian ideals. Those with powers must be controlled or eliminated. Those who do not contribute cannot be allowed to siphon off others.” Commander Rick sets his jaw and my chest clenches tight. I know this already, but to hear it directly from the eldest council member is another thing entirely.
“Thus, through Sanjorez’s and Benjamin’s work with the pendants, the Camaraderie learned how to make beasts. Beasts can be controlled. They can fight. They are more efficient than eliminating each individual person that opposes us. No one would contest using elementals and power users in Special Forces. But our enemies would argue that our actions are morally wrong.”
Like Jenna.
The commander smirks. “Like Miss Nickleson, yes. But I have seen her mind. She seeks truth in answers. In her eyes, to have been lied to about the state of the world was a crime. It is not the action of transformation she sees as wrong, so much as it is that we withheld that information from her.” He presses a knuckle to his chin and gazes out at the dark sky. “I believe it is similar to how you are unaccustomed to making decisions which impact the wellbeing of others, and why you have a hard time understanding the art of war.”
I shift uncomfortably as the commander stands.
“You will do well, m’boy. You will adjust.”
I nod, but I still have a sinking feeling in the back of my throat. To be efficient, truly efficient, I’m going to have to make choices I’d rather not make.
He places a hand on my shoulder and smiles. “You will make a fine leader, Master Zaytsev.” Legion Spore, create a portal to the base. A portal opens for him and he leaves me alone with the vessel for the night. After everything that’s happened, I really just want to settle dow
n with Val, hold her in my arms, and get a long night’s sleep.
I stagger from the chair and through the hall, and then make my way down the ladder. There’s no one here but me, no one I have to impress. A humid breeze drifts along the short walkway. I step into my room and glance at the kitchenette. I should probably eat something. I fish through the refrigerator until I find an unmarked box of frozen burritos. I unwrap one before mentally instructing the Legion Spore to microwave it. A minute later, steaming burrito in hand, I plop onto the bed. The sheets rustle, crackly and stiff. The burrito is decent, but the lack of hot sauce reminds me of the rebels’ cooking. Even with meager supplies, they had some way of making everything taste good. I sigh. Their best cook—my mentor—is dead now. In a way, his death is my fault. If I hadn’t stolen the car, he wouldn’t have tried to retrieve it.
I finish the burrito, and then exchange my uniform for a simple pair of boxers. I crawl under the sheets. “Legion Spore—” My voice sounds hollow. “Connect me with Val.” I feel its circuits working, the networks sprawling across towers and hubs in search for a connection.
We apologize, Master Zaytsev, but Lady Salazar does not appear to be available. Would you like us to leave her a message?
I close my eyes. “Yes, please. Record my voice, then relay the message to her tablet.” I pause, thinking of what I want to say. “This is Tim. I couldn’t get a hold of you but, well, I just wanted to say I love you, and I miss you, and…” My voice catches in my throat. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept alone. “I’ll see you when I get back.” I smile a little, but my chest feels loose, as if there’s nothing here to hold me in place. “End recording and transmit.”
Yes, Master Zaytsev. Is there anything else we can do for you?
I nuzzle the flat pillow under my neck. Uncomfortable, but I’m sure it’s made for simplistic support. “No. It’s bedtime, now.”
Would you like us to read you a bedtime story?
“What?”
You like this one, remember? You like the story of ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf.’
I sit up. The Legion Spore’s voice is different. It’s still clipped, not quite oriented, but its inflections are not the same as the artificial voice I heard all afternoon. “Bedtime story?” I don’t remember programming it to read bedtime stories—unless Benjamin has an unspoken interest in oral literature.
Once upon a time, there was a foolish little boy who stood guard over the shepherd’s sheep. The shepherd told him, ‘If you ever see a wolf, son, with large gold eyes and strong sharp teeth, you must immediately call for help.’ The little boy listened closely, for he was mischievous, and full of play.
The hairs rise on my arms. This doesn’t sound like the AI at all. “Legion Spore—acknowledge me.”
The shepherd knew of the little boy’s tricks, so he gave him a stern warning. ‘You must never cry wolf if there is none, for when the townspeople come running, they will be angry if you have disturbed them for nothing. Promise me, son, that you will be honest, and call for help only if there is danger.’ The little boy agreed with every bit of passion he could muster, and the shepherd went on his way. Do you know what happens next?
I shiver. Yes, I know the fable, but this isn’t right. “Legion Spore, I do not want to hear a story.”
The first night, the little boy did as he was told. But it was all very tedious, and staring at sheep was certainly the most boring task he had ever done.
“Legion Spore!” I push the covers aside and throw my legs over the edge of the bed. I pause. The floor is no longer made of ivory. It’s returned to the basic metal grate, while the walls have lost their leatheriness, now just a soft, fleshy musculature.
So the next night, the little boy did the most exciting thing he could imagine. He cried wolf.
I reach to the vessel with my mind, but the Legion Spore has erected some kind of firewall. I launch myself out of bed. This isn’t good. If the Legion Spore isn’t responding, I can’t command it.
All the townspeople came running. But when they got there, the little boy laughed. ‘You should see your faces!’ he cried. The only creatures in the field were the sheep and their lambs.
I scramble up the ladder, my sweaty fingers clutching the rungs. My fingers slip, but I quickly catch myself. Once on the next floor, I search out the controls on the central command point.
I’m locked out.
The townspeople retreated in anger, and the shepherd gave the boy a fierce reprimanding. ‘You should not fool people,’ he warned, ‘for they may not believe you the next time you call for help.’ The little boy apologized, and the shepherd went back to his work. The next night, the little boy paced all the grounds, and there was no wolf to be found. He soon grew bored.
I step away from the console, numb. What if we’re attacked? What if the vessel loses flight capabilities? We’ll careen into the trees and die, with no armor plating to shield us. I race into the command room. We hover over the trees, silent, lifeless.
So the boy cried wolf. The townspeople came. The shepherd shook his head and sent the foolish child home to bed. The next night passed, and the boy trekked all over the grounds, looking for any sign of predatory life. Then he saw it—the flash of gold. The sharp teeth shining in the glow of his lantern.
The wolf had come for its meal.
The Legion Spore’s voices seethe with anger. Goosebumps crawl on my arms. “Legion Spore,” I plead, but it ignores me.
The foolish child cried wolf once more, but no one came.
The sensation of being watched tickles my powers, and I crane my head to the ceiling. Two golden, wolf-like eyes stare at me, endless and hungry.
My body goes numb. If the Legion Spore isn’t functioning right, what if it tries to eat me? The image of the prisoner’s body decomposing into nutrients roots itself in my mind.
The next day, the townspeople found their sheep untouched. But all that remained of the boy was his bones. The end. How do you like that bedtime story? We know it’s your favorite.
The voices drawl, overlapping but out of sync as they growl. I envision the wolf licking its lips in anticipation. My body shakes uncontrollably. The eyes don’t blink.
“Very nice,” I say. I can’t keep my voice steady.
You like when we tell stories, don’t you? You’ve always liked our stories. Always liked—
The voices stop. The eyes recede into the ship’s hull.
I take quick, shallow breaths. “Legion Spore?”
Yes, Master Zaytsev?
I breathe a sigh of relief. The voice is normal. The hull has returned to its usual leathery self. “Do your records indicate any unusual activity?”
There is silence as the vessel searches its database. Yes, Master Zaytsev. We have no record of the past four minutes.
I wrap my fingers around the efficiency charm. “Thank you. I’ll investigate the cause immediately.”
But I know what the cause is—a glitch. One of Commander Rick’s “ghosts.”
I return to the command chair, my head swimming. The sky is clouded, but clusters of stars peek through. I need sleep, but the glitch must be resolved. I tap into the vessel’s command code, and the search begins.
Thick jungle leaves slap my arms and legs. The hot air broods in a silence that’s insane, even for the vague reality of a dream. Here, I’m a scout for the OA. No birds chirp, no predatory creatures murmur their growls. I should sense them with my beast mastery power, but they’re hiding.
I dig my boots into the ground, sliding against mud and fallen debris, and pull the radio from my belt. I need help from Command. I’m supposed to maintain radio silence, but something’s wrong. One by one, the leaves spin and flare into open sky. A hideous monster floats above the jungle like a pinkish-brown, mutated jellyfish. My heart pounds as I thumb the radio button. Whatever that thing is, the Oriental Alliance must be told. “Command?”
Static. The radio dies. I frantically thumb
the button, my palms sweaty. I glance at the sky as one of those long, twisted tentacles reaches through the swirling trees. My feet root in place. I can’t run—I gasp and drop the radio. The tentacle wraps around me, burning through the camouflage uniform and into my skin. I scream as the kaiju lifts me into the air—
I start in my chair and take a gasping breath. My blood thrums. A pink ray of light casts the Legion Spore’s bone-covered command center in a soft, early morning glow. I must’ve fallen asleep while working on the glitch.
Still shaking, I fumble my way downstairs and make a selection from a dozen different teas and hot drinks. Chamomile. Earl Grey. Black. Vanilla. Ginger and honey. The list goes on, but I finally choose a hazelnut coffee with milk. There’s not many coffee choices—just black, hazelnut, and vanilla, which surprises me given Lady Winters’ fondness for the drink. The liquid sloshes from the cup and scalds my hand. No matter. I’ll have the Legion Spore heal it if the burn is too bad.
I sit on the bed. Last night’s “story time” glitch was rooted so deep in the Legion Spore’s code that it took forever to find the inefficient thing, and when I finally did, there was no logical reason for its presence. Nothing. I wiped that line of code and made a separate notation elsewhere of what that line contained.
Once I finish my coffee, I take a quick shower. The steam relaxes my muscles, despite the eerie carvings of beasts in the ivory wall, haunting me through the stream of hot water. Afterward, I don the fiber optic uniform Val gave me and then return to my post.
There’s no message from the commander, but Val left a smiley face note on my tablet. I grin and trace the edge of the heart-shaped locket she gave me. Tomorrow I’ll be back.
Pleasantries complete, I use the Legion Spore’s radiation power to project a shimmering list of people who were part of its making. For now, I ignore the ones who were turned into beasts. They don’t have memories from before their transformation, and it’s the ones with memories who are most likely to form “ghosts.”
Whispers in the Code Page 8
