Whispers in the Code

by Stephanie Flint

  “No fear, Master Zaytsev. A few glitches we can handle. You dealt with yesterday’s issues, and I’ll order that the Legion Spore stays outside the primary battlefield. Hubs have their difficulties, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Besides, the vessel seems to like you.”

  I wring my hands under the tablecloth. “I didn’t know it had a preference.”

  “Neither did we.” The commander chuckles and shares a knowing glance with Lady Black. My jaw clenches involuntarily.

  “Still, the vessel responds well to your commands,” Commander Rick continues. I shove the image of the nightmare from my mind. “Thereby, I am assigning you command over the vessel during its first official mission.”

  “What?” I stare at him. He can’t seriously mean battle. I’m no more trained in fighting than I was when I first came here. I can shoot a pistol, but that’s about it.

  He sips his tea. “Believe me, you’re the best fit for this job. Before having your powers enhanced, you bested my most experienced techno sight agent, and he would have been the primary choice for the job with Lady Winters gone, if he hadn’t been demoted.”

  A nervous laugh escapes my lips. Demoted. He’s probably in the Legion Spore.

  “Now that your powers are increased,” Commander Rick adds, not denying my concerns, “you are by far the most effective tool for keeping the Legion Spore on track. Three days from now, we will launch a full-scale invasion against the Oriental Alliance. Our first target will be the training base you visited when you were with the rebels. Lady Salazar briefed us on the general layout of the place and what we can expect. You, m’boy, will instruct the Legion Spore to shut down all power to their base and render their technology ineffective.”

  “Using techno sight or radiation powers?” I ask. “The Legion Spore could do a massive EMP, but that would take out our ships, too. It might hurt the Legion Spore.”

  “Agreed… an electromagnetic wave would be too far-reaching.” Commander Rick swishes the liquid of his glass thoughtfully. “Use techno sight. Afterwards, you will stand by for orders. I will be on our flagship, commanding the overall mission, so I will provide instruction as necessary.”

  I nod slowly. “Yes, sir. Thank you for your confidence.” I don’t feel nearly as confident as him, though. I squeeze Val’s hand under the table as he launches into a spiel about battle strategy. She pumps her fist in mine, reassuring me. Hopefully I can do this. But first, I have to do everything I can to focus on the commander. The hour drags as he goes on about tactics that don’t really affect the Legion Spore, especially since we’re supposed to hang back once the power is down. But everyone listens politely.

  At the end of the commander’s spiel, Lady Black taps her stirring spoon on the edge of her glass. “While you and Master Zaytsev are engaging the Oriental Alliance, Lady Salazar and I will attend to our own mission. We have some work to do in the North American Community.” She smiles, lounging in her chair, one hand propped delicately on the armrest. A twisted knot of resentment forms in my throat. “Lady Salazar?”

  Val lifts her chin proudly. I lick my lips, worried. How long will she be gone? It seems we just got back together.

  “Since you two have the Legion Spore,” Val says, looking directly at me and grinning, “Lady Black thought it would be a good idea to give me experience with collecting intelligence. She’s been training me ever since I joined the council, and she thinks I’m ready for the real world.”

  My chest constricts. It makes sense that’s she’s been training to be a spy, considering how we met, but the thought sends pangs of jealously running through me. I don’t really want to think about what she might have done before we met.

  What she might still do.

  I force a smile for her sake. “What will you be doing?”

  She flips her dark hair away from her eyes. “Depends. We’ll be in the Community, so Lady Black will go as herself, and I’ll be going as the newest Head of Ecology.” She cocks her head playfully, and her pointed teeth pull on her bottom lip. “I’ll use insight to figure out who we need to talk to, and then I’ll communicate everything to Lady Black using this handy telepathy charm Benjamin made for us.”

  She holds up a small lightning bolt charm made with blue apatite. It’s fitting, with her powers, though I’m not sure it quite conveys “Head of Ecology.”

  Then again, Lady Winters had an elaborate flower charm that had nothing to do with being the Head of Efficiency, so I guess no one will question it. They’ll probably just think it’s some new fad the leaders have.

  “…and Lady Black can persuade them to talk,” Val finishes, though I missed part of her explanation.

  “Correct,” Lady Black agrees with a coy smile. The commander tugs at his mustache, unconcerned. “Her task is relatively simple, and will give us a chance to get her feet wet on more sensitive missions.”

  “Why North America?” I ask.

  Lady Black rests her knuckles against her cheek. “We have reports suggesting that there may be unrest there. Nothing major, but if the source is politically backed, we need to remove the parties in question.”

  The pressure on my chest lightens and I smile to show support. At least the mission should be simple, like she said, and it sounds like Val won’t be doing the main interrogations. I don’t have to worry about her… seducing… anyone.

  Commander Rick thumps his knuckles against the table. “Very well. I believe our meeting is adjourned.”

  We stand, but before Benjamin can exit, I catch his attention. Now that the meeting is over, I have questions. He flaps his hand at me, murmuring about the properties of various minerals and stones. Yes-yes—what is it?

  “When I was researching the time stones, I ran across an article about a Catonian artifact written by Victoria Calroe—” The spirit flinches and curses under his breath. I mentally add “dragon’s breath” to my list of unexpected curses that I’ve heard from the Camaraderie leaders. “The article mentioned that you determined the artifact was Catonian. What makes it Catonian?”

  Benjamin removes his ghostly spectacles from the tip of his nose and pockets them in his apron. Other than the original relic looking like a cat, I can’t really say. I just know.

  “How?”

  He runs a hand through his spiky hair and it falls back into place, vaguely mimicking the properties of real hair. Look, Short Circuit, the thing about fourthwalling—glorified insight—is that you get answers to your questions, but they might not be what you expect. See… ask me a question. Anything.

  “What should I ask?”

  Forty-two.

  “What?” I stare at him, confused. “What does ‘forty-two’ have to do with anything?”

  That’s exactly my point. You can ask a question, but if the powers that be don’t think you’re ready for the answer, or if you don’t ask the right question, or if you don’t roll high enough… He extracts a set of oddly-shaped metal dice from his pocket. They clink against each other, more real than he is. Then your question remains unanswered, cryptically answered, or incorrectly answered. Best I can ascertain is that those artifacts—you were talking about the cat idol, correct?

  I nod.

  That artifact was Catonian. That’s all that came to my head, every time I asked, no matter how I asked.

  “And the time stones are Catonian, too?”

  Very much so. They appear to have the same properties. Same use of spirits, same use of stones, though which stones, I can’t say. Wrong power set. He shrugs, puts his dice away, then holds the contraption he’s been working on up to his eye. He’s been working on that thing since I met him, but I don’t think he’s any closer to knowing what it is.

  “Thanks for the information,” I say sincerely. He juts his chin and scruffy goatee, then disappears from the room as if he knows I have no other questions for him.

  Unfortunately, that means it’s time for me to meet with Lady Black.

  The hub creates a
portal directly from the Cuban base to the hall outside of Lady Black’s personal chambers, which is good, because Commander Rick’s airship is huge. The hall of the CFS Reliance stretches the length of the vessel before curving at the stern, and every facet of that hall is meticulously crafted. Lights hang from the ceiling via ornate, brass lamps. The lamps softly tick, their clockwork automation setting the time of day to yellow, flickering LEDs. The floor is inlaid with red and black carpet, woven with a dizzying pattern of loops and quadrilaterals. If I look closely enough, crossing my eyes to keep the hall from swaying, I can see a resemblance to the Elizabeth pendants worked into the design. The walls are bronze. They reflect a distorted image of myself. I quickly look away, careful not to look too close at my reflection. I don’t want another reminder of this morning’s dream. But when I don’t look directly at the wall, flickering shadows reveal etchings in the bronze, more scenes from a Victorian era. A carriage pulled by horses, a gentleman offering a lady a handkerchief—

  An etching down the hall shows a woman commanding a pack of hounds using beast mastery, one hand across her brow, the other reached toward the animals. The dogs leap beside decorated soldiers with fire and water springing from their hands. They’re facing what appears, in all its oddity, to be mechs. But powers didn’t come around until the 1950s, so this scene must be a stylized portrait of the fight between the Camaraderie and the Oriental Alliance.

  “Fascinating, aren’t they?”

  I turn. Lady Black stands just outside her door, one hand propped against the frame. “When I was a child,” she says, “I used to spend hours looking at impressions like these.”

  “They’re… very imaginative.”

  She looks to the pictures. Her silky black hair falls across her dark, forest green dress. Like me, she’s changed outfits since the meeting. Her dress is made from shimmering, graceful satin. Unlike her usual attire, this dress completely covers her neck and shoulders, fastened by a simple, black lace choker. A matching green sash, trimmed with black ribbon, cascades over her arms, held in place at the crook of her elbows.

  “Imaginative. I suppose you could say that.” She rights herself, waving her fingers over her head. “Come in.”

  My chest tightens. Val hasn’t gone into much description about Lady Black’s training methods, and I’m not sure what Commander Rick might have asked her to cover.

  Or uncover.

  I cringe, but Lady Black doesn’t notice. She’s not a telepath.

  The lady’s chambers aren’t much different than the hall. Basked in flickering lamplight, the velvet, crimson upholstery is complimented with smooth, stained black wood. There’s a fireplace of glowing pink marble in the wall. I’ve never actually considered anyone having a fireplace on an airship, but it’s the Camaraderie, so why not?

  Lady Black glides to a bar beside the fireplace, removes two champagne glasses, and uncaps a swanlike decanter. She pours one glass, the amber liquid sloshing expertly below the rim. She holds up the flask. “Drink?”

  I shake my head abruptly. “No thanks.”

  Lady Black removes a small pitcher from a beverage cooler beneath the bar—which, when opened, seems out of place in the otherwise estate-like room—and pours ice water into the glass. She hands the glass to me.

  The ice chinks loudly in my shaky hands.

  She spares it a glance. “My dear Master Zaytsev, you don’t have to be so nervous. I don’t bite.” I stiffen as she brushes her fingers along the pendant on my chest, then takes a moment to straighten it. “Please, have a seat.” She gestures to one of two giant, plush armchairs.

  I sit on the edge, steadying my glass between both hands while she lounges against the cushions, her legs crossed with one foot pointing a moderately high heel in the air. She taps her chin and sizes me up, gathering her thoughts about whatever she plans to say next. She opens her mouth to speak, but I’m distracted by a flurry of movement behind her.

  “My… lady?” My eyes widen.

  She leans over the arm of the chair and sighs. “Beasts,” she murmurs. She claps her hands, and the two creatures behind her freeze. I shift uncomfortably. Judging by their ethereal beauty, they’re both persuasion beasts. One is a female with dark skin, and the other is a male with a coppery tan. Both have the standard cat-eyes and slightly pointed ears.

  Lady Black clears her throat, and the two beasties lope to us to stand on either side of her chair. I sink into my seat, woefully inadequate compared to either of them. Both are slender, with lean muscles. The female wears a sheer, sky blue fabric across her chest and waist. The gossamer robes flutter around her knees. The male has a loose silk jacket that ties at his waist, but it opens in a “V” that reveals most of his chiseled chest.

  I lower my eyes to my glass as heat flares in my cheeks. I sip the water. Maybe she won’t notice my embarrassment.

  A clear laugh rings out and the lady’s eyes twinkle. She seems young. Early thirties, maybe?

  “What’s the matter, Master Zaytsev? Never seen a persuasion beast before?”

  My cheeks grow warmer. “Well, I have, but—”

  She nudges the male. “Go on,” she whispers. “See if he’ll play.”

  “If I’ll—what?”

  Before I have a chance to imagine what she might have in mind, the beast is at my side, holding a crude instrument in his hands. He drops it unceremoniously in my lap, then stares at me. Puppy-dog eyes, for all their golden, feline slits.

  “Uh—what is it?” I hold up the instrument. It’s shaped from an old tissue box, with four wires strung through and across what might have once been the stem of a champagne glass.

  The lady rests her cheek against her knuckles as she runs her free hand through the female beast’s glossy hair. The beast flops at the lady’s feet, attentive. “I came here one night and found him working on this. He had an interest in music before his transformation. His memories are gone, but his original skills remain.”

  I nod, gaping at the instrument. My skin feels clammy. I’m not sure whether my stage fright is caused by the three stares I’m receiving or the strange, near-human nature of the beast. Tentatively, I pluck a string. A harsh plunk resounds through the box. I cringe, but the beast grins and looks between me, the box, and me again. When I stop playing, he pouts.

  I quickly resume playing the horrid instrument, if only to please him.

  “Well done,” Lady Black says, and I jerk to awareness as the beast snatches a gingersnap from her hand with his teeth before dashing around the corner and out of sight. “Take this, please?” She gently pries the crude instrument from my hands and passes it to the waiting female. The beast takes it, and then disappears, hardly making a sound as she treads on the balls of her bare feet. I gape at Lady Black, who also offers me a cookie.

  “What just—what just happened?”

  She quirks a smile. “Persuasion beasts are not always used for sexual purposes, Master Zaytsev. They can be quite convincing when they want the unsuspecting stranger to entertain them.”

  “I—”

  Her smile broadens. “Take the cookie. I’ll explain.”

  I take it, then wonder if she used her powers. “How—”

  “Simply be glad you have never encountered a child who developed enhanced charisma at an early age. I hear they are quite adorable, and very hard to deny.” The skin crinkles at the edge of her eyes, the first signs of age.

  “You?” I nibble at the cookie and sip the water. Most of the ice has melted. How long was I playing that handmade instrument?

  Lady Black chuckles, neither answering nor denying my question. “Persuasion is an elusive technique, best used on the unaware.”

  “So… how do you detect it?” I wiggle back in the chair.

  She sits the drink on the table and then lays her hands on her knee. “You can’t, unless you’re a telepath. Or the instigator is doing a poor job. You must simply be on guard, and be aware of when you are asked to act agains
t your better judgment. A trick of the charismatic is to make you think you want exactly what they are persuading you to do.”

  I nod slowly. “How do you block it?”

  She strokes the edge of the chair, her eyes distant. I resist turning in my chair to see what she’s looking at.

  “Depends. Logical reasoning is one method—reminding yourself to distinguish need from desire. But sometimes, the trick is to set yourself a mental haven to which you may retreat. This is most important against telepathy. The target creates a simulation so strong they need only focus on their haven, and their focus cannot be broken. Some tell riddles. Others sing repetitive, obnoxious songs, and yet others create a world in their mind, which only they can visit.”

  I frown. “What method do you use?”

  She draws a strand of hair between her thumb and index finger. “I have multiple techniques, each suited for a different situation. With Lady Winters, I found that the world method worked best. When I was a child, I often heard nursery rhymes and old tales. I elaborated on that world and created a boundary. I know each story by heart, and I know how each story ends. Even if a telepath were to twist that image, something inside me always knows the boundaries. It becomes that much harder to convince me of the lie.”

  Like the OA scout… except Lady Black probably had more training if she was able to thwart Lady Winters.

  “Commander Rick, however, projects songs with his thoughts,” she continues. “You could tell when he was blocking Lady Winters by when you heard ballads playing softly in your head.” She taps her forehead. “He still sings them now that she’s dead, but for enjoyment.”

  I force a smile. “What would you suggest for me?”

  “Only you can decide that. Since your primary power is techno sight, you might consider something to do with programming or computers. Perhaps a game you can play. Have you ever tried playing solitaire in your head? Imagine remembering all the combinations and suites while someone is trying to gain access to some deep, dark secret.” The lady lowers her chin, flashing an alluring smile, and I quickly turn my thoughts to the card game. It’s not as hard as she makes it out to be, but then, I have enhanced intelligence in my favor.