by L A Warren
New Terra Histories by Malita s’Lissa s’vlor
At some point, I think I was crazy. Perhaps there were several times where I danced back and forth across the line between sanity and insanity. It’s difficult to know if there was a line at all.
Tender Training was an odd thing. While it had been bad the first time, the second time broke me. It transformed me.
I lost something the second time around—a piece of my humanity disappeared—but I believe I gained more than I lost.
Would I do it again?
Now that’s a difficult question.
I learned several things as a result of my training with the Tenders. First, we could never make it back to Earth. Second, there was nowhere to run. And third, and this was the most important lesson, I had to find a different solution. For that, I needed to redefine the problem.
Not once did it occur to me I might fail. My grandfather didn’t raise me to lose. He taught me to persevere until winning was the only option left.
I still didn’t know what to do, but I kept moving forward. That was the secret to success. Keep moving forward.
One small step at a time. As long as I did something, no matter how small the step, the solution would reveal itself.
Sounds easy, right?
It was anything but easy!
I never formed a plan. It wasn’t like one step led to the next. I had no idea how to defeat the Vendel. I just came to it in stages and by a great deal of luck.
To this day, I still don’t understand how I was never caught sneaking off the Confinement Deck. Either I was truly lucky, or I had a better command of the WOR-skill than I thought.
Chapter Twenty
Gambit, Day 224
Gregor took Elise to Command and Control. He guided her through the rings of consoles and past the hanging holographs. He wrapped his hand around hers, maintaining a firm grip, while he pulled her along.
They paused at the railing where she had met him after waking from the devastating effects of the Activator. The Vector selected her from the billions on Earth and consigned her to become a Vendel slave. Activation turned on her genetic code and remade her into a weapon. What kind of weapon remained a mystery, and what she was to fight against remained even more unclear. She was nothing more than a tool, one that had failed its masters.
Tender Training broke her the first time, shattering her mind, and gave rise to the voices in her head. The second round? Something shifted inside of her, and she was still trying to sort out what that meant.
Not once did she waiver from her goal: free herself and her fellow captives and find a way home. She would never stop fighting Gregor or the Tender Conclave, but to escape and seek her freedom, she needed to learn everything they had to teach her about her new abilities.
It was time to stop fighting.
It was time to learn.
Gregor led her down a ramp and into the pit below. Five women reclined in body-hugging chairs. Technicians in yellow jumpsuits hovered over them. A strange feeling overcame her; an odd kinship filtered through her mind. She knew these women, even if she’d never met them before.
Strange.
They wore dresses similar to hers. A single armband encircled their left arms, not five like hers. None wore a collar. They were WOR of the First Rank. She felt the smooth metal of the collar around her neck and brushed against the bands of Rank wrapped around her upper arm. Someday, she would be free of them.
The six chairs faced toward the front of the pit. A display screen, similar to the one in Gregor’s personal quarters, filled the wall and arched over her head. In the centermost position, a single seat remained vacant. Gregor ushered her there.
The five women opened their eyes and nodded, but none of them spoke. Intense concentration lined their faces and pinched at their eyes. Rigid fingers gripped the edges of their chairs.
“Opés,” Gregor made a sweeping gesture encompassing the five women, “these are the First Rank WOR assigned to the oversight of the Gambit’s WOR-drive. They help the technicians focus the drive and navigate us through WOR-space.” He indicated the empty chair.
She sat, unwilling to show any hesitation. Her status following a second round of Tender Training remained uncertain. Until she understood where she and Gregor stood, she would obey and learn. She had so much to learn.
He helped her settle in the seat and then stood behind her, out of her line of sight. “The screen in front of you should look familiar.”
A whirling mass of color and light twisted in a vortex of motion, overlying a gray shimmer.
“Is that WOR-space?”
“Not exactly. It’s a portion of the three-dimensional bubble of space that the WOR wrap around the fleet. The colors and light you see is the activated WOR-drive. The WOR fold the fifth and sixth-dimensions through the center of the Gambit’s torus.”
Built like a torus, the Gambit resembled an impossibly large doughnut.
“What you see is the three-dimensional representation of those folded dimensions. Only WOR see it as it really is. With training, you will too. The display on the screen is for the technicians’ benefit.” He patted her head like she was an obedient pet. “What I want you to do is observe the WOR. See if you can follow what they do.”
“What am I supposed to see?”
“The engines of the Gambit force us into these additional dimensions, but we can’t survive in there. The WOR serve two purposes: two of them fold space around the fleet to maintain a three-dimensional space which we call WOR-space—it maintains our integrity as we travel the alternate dimensions; and the other two WOR guide the output of the drive down the center of the torus.”
“But, there are six chairs?”
“One WOR pulls us through the dimensions to our destination. The final WOR is for emergencies.”
“Emergencies? If that’s the case, why is the sixth seat vacant?”
“Because you’re here to train. Don’t worry about emergencies.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand any of this. How does this move us through space?”
“The WOR-drive doesn’t move us anywhere. It connects us to our destination in two-dimensions, a line with infinite length and infinitesimal diameter. We exist everywhere along that line at once. The WOR pull us along the probability curve of that infinite length until we reach our target exit point.”
“We’ve been traveling for months. If what you’re saying is true we could travel anywhere instantaneously. Why is it taking so long?”
“WOR can’t envision infinite probabilities. Instead, they look down the length of the line and pull us along bit by bit. In a sense, we crawl down its length.”
“And this takes time?”
“Yes. Using the WOR-drive, we achieve supraluminal velocities, but we’re still limited by time.”
“This links your empire?” She was beginning to understand a complex problem, and realized her escape plans might truly be impossible.
“Exactly. Travel is finite, not limited by space, but rather by time. It will take another sun-cycle before we arrive at Malbra.”
“What is it you expect me to do?”
She glanced at him, remembering a little of his conversation with High Tender Marcus. Gregor had wanted to try something unconventional to break through her block in learning the WOR-skill. This had to be a piece of that.
“You’ve used your WOR-skill enough to feel what they do. You and I will walk through the focusing exercises. Hopefully, you’ll be able to view WOR-space and the WOR-drive as the First Rank WOR see it. Just like in the park, try not to think about it. Just relax and let the WOR-skill take over.”
He has to be kidding.
“Are you ready to try? I wish you to please me.”
The man was certifiably insane. He really thought she could do this. That she would do it out of a compulsive desire to please?
That is what he believes Tender Training did to you, Malice hissed. Play the long game. We must win!
“Yes, Gregor.” She suppressed the shiver his words caused. Pleasing him, as much as she hated to admit it, had been ingrained in her through High Tender Marcus’s triple bout of Tender Training. She wanted to succeed…for him.
It made her sick to her stomach.
Gregor talked her through the stupid focusing exercises. For a long time, she let his voice lull her into a deep meditation, but the space in front of her did not change. What was supposed to happen remained unclear.
Her sisters crawled out of the dark recesses of her mind. Malice, Shriek, and Whimper looked on with rapt attention, even the silent one, who refused to reveal herself, came out to watch. They were no help. Their running commentary only served to distract Elise from whatever hell it was Gregor expected.
By the end of the second hour, after she had accomplished nothing, she let her irritation get the better of her. “I can’t do it.” She tucked her head in her hands and rocked.
Gregor rubbed her shoulders. “It will come, opés.”
Opés! She hated that word, but his touch was something else. Intoxicating, it was a drug she craved.
“I’m sorry,” she said, on the verge of tears.
He breathed a sigh. “It’s okay, opés. I had hoped you would sense something, but we shouldn’t give up so easily. It’s either this or WOR-skill training with the Master Tender, and that has not been going so well.” He gave a throaty chuckle, but underneath she sensed a bit of strain in his tone. “I’m hoping some unconventional training might work for a truly unconventional WOR.”
Her shoulders tensed.
He swept her hair to the side and leaned down. His warm breath caressed the side of her neck. “I have faith in you, opés. Please, relax. You and I are no longer fighting. Remember?” His thumb circled her earlobe and sent delicious shivers down her neck.
She closed her eyes and pushed back against the rising tide of desire surging in her veins. Why did her body respond so easily to the simplest of his touches?
Vendel biotech, the silent sister whispered. You cannot resist his touch, because your response to him is engineered.
I’m not speaking to you until you tell me who you are! Elise cast about in the dark, but the mystery sister fled.
Biotech? Does that explain it then?
Gregor startled her out of her inner conversation with a kiss pressed to the spot behind her ear. “Where do you go, opés, when you stare like that?”
The urge to cackle like Malice nearly overwhelmed her. I’m speaking to my other selves, you bastard. I’m crazy, bonkers, certifiably insane! And you did this to me!
“We will take a break.”
“I’m sorry, Gregor.” Liquid warmth spread from the site where his lips brushed against her skin. “I really am trying.” Except, how could she try to do something she had no idea how to do?
“Opés, stay here,” he said. “I must attend to some matters. Sit back and relax. I’ll return and we’ll try again.”
“Yes, Gregor.”
Saying his name was an obligatory response, and it grated on her. Each and every time she said his name, it made her hate him even more. She should be thankful for that requirement, because the more he touched her, the harder it was to hate him.
Two girls came in to replace two of the WOR. They settled into their reclined seats and wore masks of tension before their heads even hit the headrests. Their eyes pinched and their fingers curled around the armrests.
Elise got out of the chair and walked around the pit. She followed Gregor’s movements as he exited the pit. She didn’t need to see him to know where he went. His presence vibrated her blood, at least when he was close.
Her wandering brought her to stand before the huge viewscreen with the shimmering gray background.
So, this is WOR-space.
Doesn’t look like much, Malice said. Kind of dull.
I don’t like it. Shriek sniffed with disdain. It feels funny.
Only because we can’t see it. Grumpy as always, Malice looked to pick a fight.
Shh! Elise stared at the dull shimmer.
She knew WOR-space intimately, at least from the cockpit of her jump-jet. Where were the silver rings of the jump-jet circuit? She traced out an imaginary course in her mind.
Her little dragonfly craft zipped and looped, accelerating through the course. Wild bonus rings danced in her mind’s eye, elusive and challenging, taunting her to take a chance. In her imagination, she attacked each one, caught it, and dove through to the next.
Was it crazy to think a simple jump-jet circuit win would aid her escape? There was nothing else, and even if it did nothing, it was her only way to defy Gregor. She needed that tiny victory. Maybe someday, tiny would become something unstoppable.
A spinning vortex of colored light crept into her peripheral vision. Between one breath and the next, before she realized what was happing, the vortex exploded into painful awareness. Lines of color converged, folded, shifted and danced through the dimensions.
The latticework of lines reminded her of a long funnel, like a twisting tornado rotating with contained fury. The colored lines converged and wove themselves into tight cords, stretching and thinning until they were barely a thread. Her vision spun and exploded outward. Her consciousness separated and left her body behind, until she floated within a tunnel, supported by the lattice of woven light. From within, she saw infinity.
A familiar presence approached and she felt, rather than heard, Gregor as he stepped to within a few paces.
“How do you feel, opés? Are you ready to try again?”
Elise ripped her mind from the light and the infinite vision and settled back into her body. She swayed as her mind and body reunited. Dragging her gaze from the silver screen, she focused on silver eyes and a dancing tattoo.
She blinked. “Yes, Gregor.”
They spent the rest of the day in the pit, and she managed to keep her discovery of the WOR-drive a secret, letting her sisters take it in, each in their own peculiar way.
Gregor bombarded her with questions. She answered them all.
Yes, she thought she might have seen something.
No, she couldn’t describe it.
Yes, she was relaxed.
No, he couldn’t help to get her more comfortable.
There was also Gregor you’re distracting me! when he had rubbed her arms and brushed his fingers alongside her breasts.
She had seen the WOR-drive in action and peeked at infinity. At least she believed the infinite tunnel is what the WOR pulled them down.
At the end of the day, Gregor grudgingly walked Elise back to the Fifth deck.
“Don’t feel bad, opés. We can’t expect progress on the first day, but you think you felt something?” The eagerness in his tone made her want to give him some kind of hope.
“Maybe.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.
“Well, that’s better than nothing. We try again tomorrow.”
Her roommates popped to their feet and bowed their heads when she and Gregor entered her quarters on the Fifth Rank Training Deck.
Elise managed to say goodnight without too many unwanted kisses.
Questioning glances from her friends led to a very brief recounting of her day. Elise directed a knowing glance to Alice. She had a full evening ahead of her in a jump-jet.
Without another word, she feigned exhaustion and excused herself for the night.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gambit, Day 234
The rest of the cycle, ten Earth days, passed in a similar fashion. Elise followed Gregor around during her day as he took her to each Conclave and introduced her to the resident First Rank WOR. She spent her mornings and afternoons watching, learning, and hiding her growing knowledge from Gregor.
He had not yet shown concern over her lack of progress and she decided she would have to give him something soon before he became desperate for results.
Elise spent her days learning the WOR
-skill and every other night with Jeena and Dove, preparing for the Gambit jump-jet circuit. The other nights she fell into an exhausted sleep and tried to find rest. When her exhaustion became too much, Shriek and Whimper took control of her body, allowing her to find respite in the darkness of her mind. She hid there, going over everything she had learned and trying to make sense of it.
Her only solace came from the cockpit of Jeena’s jump-jet and the races she flew. Her dreams consisted of the silver rings and complex lines of force and folding of multiple dimensions. Her consciousness expanded as it grew into new potentials, avenues of thought and explorations previously unknown, but still terrifyingly foreign.
There was a sense she should be able to do more, perceive more, feel more, but a crucial piece of a complex puzzle continued to remain elusive. Something blocked her efforts to understand, and the harder she tried to force her learning, the faster her limited control of the WOR-skill slipped out of her grasp.
Additionally, the more she learned, the more paranoid she became about being discovered during her nightly forays. She finally sat Jeena down to discuss her growing concern.
“Wilma mentioned that some pilots fly veiled.” Elise rocked on the hard bench seat, wringing her fingers with unease.
Jenna gave a dismissive wave. “Sure, why?”
“I was wondering if I should as well.”
“Why would you?”
Elise pursed her lips. “I’m worried I’ll be recognized.”
“Very few veil themselves. It’s assumed they have status, but the veils give the illusion of equality.”
“Then, why do it?”
Jeena shrugged. “I guess if you don’t know the actual lord you’re flying against then you’re not technically competing against your Sector lord…”
“But others veil themselves. Wilma mentioned others.”
Jeena thought about it for a moment. “True, I guess it depends. Previous Imperial finalists might do it so as not to intimidate their competition. Conclave Masters for obvious reasons. Low and High Judicators have been known to do so, but they rarely have the time for jump-jets. Lords for sure.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, who would willingly beat a lord…”
