Chrysalis Corporation

by T. A. Venedicktov

  “Don’t stand out. Nothing new. For the next few sims, we’re boring, got it?” Damion opened his eyes and looked at him. “And I need to call you something else.”

  “I understood your order, Fighter. It was the first part I did not.” 47 finished his meal and stood, then walked toward his capsule, sat on the edge, and eased down. “Nor do I understand your aversion to calling me by the number assigned to me.”

  “47 doesn’t sound right, and if we’re going to be a team for the next few years, you need something unique, because you’re nothing but. Just give me time to think on it.” Damion knew 47 had to mean more than birthing tanks or dates of conception or what the hell else. He had to mean something more to Damion than a numbered tool.

  “As you wish. Do you need anything more from me?”

  “Unless you know how to get the knots out of my upper back, then no, you can plug in and do whatever it is you do.” Damion turned onto his side. “I’m exhausted—too tired to undress. Wake me up an hour before sims, and I’ll sort it out then.”

  “I have been trained in the techniques of massage.” 47 turned to look at him over his shoulder. “If it would please you, I will attempt to ease your discomfort.”

  Damion questioned if he should allow 47 full access to his body, and it set an alarm off in his head. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “I am incapable of lying to you,” 47 replied honestly as he turned his back toward Damion once more. “But I can sense your apprehension. You still believe that I might terminate you.”

  Damion was still a bit apprehensive, but it had only been one day since he was assigned a Core. Well, a day and a half. Either way, he wasn’t completely positive that 47 didn’t want to kill him. Damion had survived their first taste of combat together, unlike 47’s previous Fighters—but that didn’t mean he’d make it past the second.

  “I shall wake you an hour before sims as you ordered,” 47 stated as he ran his hands over the sides of the capsule almost lovingly.

  “Thanks.” Damion rolled onto his back once again. He knew he wouldn’t have to wait long to feel the pull of exhaustion due to the new, intense physical and mental activities in his life.

  As he fell asleep, his thoughts were of what to call his new partner.

  Chapter Five

  Tuesday March 29, 454 MC

  1333 GMT

  Core 47

  47 ONLY used Damion to help him walk along the hallways back to their room because of minor dizziness. 47 had used the Impulse Barrier against another assault from Arkin in the sims. Arkin’s new Core was unable to modify the Hephaestus against the Barrier. How Arkin continued to be chosen by Cores so quickly, 47 did not know. While Damion was vehemently against the use of the Pulse, 47 had needed to test it out again since he had installed the new energy drain into the Ares. The purpose of it was to supply the Impulse Barrier with the energy it needed to work without draining him.

  Unfortunately he hadn’t installed a large enough conduit and they had needed to stun more enemies this time around, since Arkin slipped an ally into the battle with him. So the energy drain had run out and the Pulse had looked for its next source, which was 47. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as previously, and 47 was merely weakened instead of downright exhausted.

  “Damn it,” Damion spat.

  47 knew Damion didn’t like the Pulse—well, Damion liked not dying but didn’t like the attention it drew, and they were both becoming exhausted from Arkin’s attacks. It was also becoming a stress factor within the Alpha ranks. The Commander would have to address the attacks soon—it just wouldn’t be today. After this round of sims, they were supposed to be given assignments or wait until the first rebel raid or uprising to go back out.

  “How bad are you?” Damion asked.

  “I am merely having an imbalance of equilibrium at the moment. I shall be acceptable in about seven minutes’ time.”

  “Right.” Damion looked over his left shoulder at the other Zodiacs being dragged in by maintenance haulers. They were all without power and their Cores more than likely stunned. “Let’s get the hell out of here before the Commander appears again.”

  Damion walked a bit faster. Most of the people they passed didn’t even pay attention to them since they had to drag in a few downed Fighters, and some Cores needed assistance. 47 suspected Damion had an easy goal: their quarters.

  47 was silent as he contemplated the Impulse Barrier. He needed to install a larger energy supply for it to drain from. He looked back and saw Arkin’s new Core, 108, being pulled from the ship. The dark-skinned Core’s body was rigid, his gray eyes open in a sightless stare. He was still alive but… 47 looked at Arkin, supported by his comrades as he glared at his disabled Core in disgust.

  47 turned away, allowing Damion to help him onto an elevator. Once the doors closed, he had a confession for him. “I have… reservations about using the Impulse Barrier against other Zodiac ships.”

  “Why?”

  47 tripped, then straightened out as the world spun for a moment. “Arkin will terminate 108, blaming it on the Barrier. I am doing harm to the other Cores.”

  “No others need to die because of that bastard. There has to be a way to stop him.” 47 was relieved that Damion had held back his usual derogatory diatribe. “Why does he get chosen? The other Cores have to know that he’s been through so many.”

  “He is one of the better Fighters. Not as exceptional as you, but good. The Commander wants him to remain an Alpha. While most of the time Cores choose their Fighters, sometimes they are forced to pair with the ones the Corporation wants on the field. The Creators want me to use the Impulse Barrier and Arkin is an Alpha willing to attack us with no reservations. They did the same with me, except the other Cores have no way of fighting back. So they die.”

  47 closed his eyes to try to push back some of the dizziness. It helped until they had to exit the elevator and start walking toward their quarters.

  “Screw the Commander.” Damion looked happy to see the door to their room. “Lie down for an hour or two and then try and find 108. Maybe they’ll take him to Medical before releasing him to Arkin.”

  “As you order.” Once Damion sat him on the edge of his capsule, 47 slid down into it. He wouldn’t rest yet. He pushed in the code to activate the capsule and gasped as the jacks entered his body, sagging into the embrace of the system. Following the circuits throughout the Zeus like the pathways of an underworld, 47 emerged in the Medical Bay. He searched each pod before coming to 108’s and slipping into the feed. He sent out an inquisitive pulse toward the unconscious Core.

  There was mute surprise at first and then acknowledgment.

  While Cores might be bonded to Fighters and forced to fight one another, they had no negative feelings toward one another. They were a silent community, helping and watching over one another through the system when they could and when it wouldn’t go against any order given. It was the only way to help each other since they couldn’t do so out of the system.

  47 asked 108 if he was okay, and 108 reported that he was acceptable. He inquired about Arkin, and 47 felt something he had never experienced before—fear. Overwhelming fear. Emotions shouldn’t transfer over the cold circuits, but the burst of energy that pierced 47’s mind was enough. He pushed 108 back toward calm and then further into sleep. He wanted to keep 108 there, in the Med Bay, for as long as possible. But he knew that Arkin would take his Core, whether or not he was unconscious, as soon as possible. After saying farewell, 47 quickly made his way back to his own mind and awoke with a gasp.

  “You okay?” Damion had changed out of his flight suit and into jeans and a plain black T-shirt. “Did you find him?”

  47 sat up, the cables falling slack. Tired of having the standard-length cables, which tended to pull at him, he had made the ones in his capsule longer. He blinked blearily at his Fighter, swallowing as he tried to get moisture back in his mouth.

  “Affirmative. He is in the Medical Bay. I pushed hi
m into a deeper sleep and sent a message from the medic terminal stating a flux in 108’s Norepinephrine levels to try and delay Arkin’s collection of him, but I do not believe it will work. And 108 is… scared. He believes that Arkin will claim him whether he is conscious or not.”

  “47, think.” Damion leaned down so they were almost face-to-face. “What would keep a Core from being claimed by his Fighter? Other than being near death. Coma? Poison?”

  “A Core is a possession, not a person. If a Fighter is insistent enough, nothing can keep him from claiming his Core except the Commander or the Creators.” 47’s gaze met Damion’s unwaveringly. “The medics assume that a Fighter would know his Core best and therefore would do the best for his Core’s recovery. The medics fear the Creators’ ire if they interfere with their experiments. How far a Core is pushed despite the repression of emotions to stimulate those emotions, even fear, is an ongoing experiment. It allows the Creators to refine their development techniques.”

  “Except this bastard wants to find one to be better than you, and there isn’t one.” Damion closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Hack into the medical computers. I don’t care what you come up with, but make up something that would make Arkin unable to pick 108 up for at least an hour. I want you to stay here and keep plugged in while I go talk to Juni. Hopefully this won’t get us tried for treason.”

  47 was silent for a moment as he thought, and then a faint twitch of his lips betrayed a very quick smile. “Delanor space seed. 108 may have gotten it on him while exiting the Hephaestus. It would be fathomable it attached to the inside of one of his ports as it attaches to the outside of the craft. If the scanners sensed a sudden outbreak, the computer would close down the Medical Bay for quarantine. Will that be acceptable?”

  Damion spoke with a large grin “You’re a genius. I heard about one outbreak while in training. Bay scanners missed it because it was tucked into a pilot’s helmet somehow. I’m just glad it’s fake and we don’t have to worry about gigantic hives and respiratory failure.” He ruffled the top of 47’s head. “I’m going to see how anxious Juni is to get his own Core. Remember, you stay here and lock that door after I leave in case Arkin comes looking for you or me.”

  “I will observe Arkin and proceed to warn you if he or any of his associates approaches,” 47 promised, pleased that his Fighter was happy with him. He sank back down into a supine position, launching himself into the circuits again.

  Damion

  DAMION DIDN’T waste any time getting down to the lower decks. This would piss Arkin off more and delay him getting another Core, but he couldn’t stand by and watch it happen again. The other Alphas’ Cores were used, some badly, but only Arkin was getting away with multiple counts of manslaughter. Damion would need to investigate if these actions were solely contained to Zeus or if they were found on the other flagship, Hera. He prayed it was only this Commander and group of Fighters that treated such amazing people with indignity.

  He found Juni in the exercise room. Damion gripped the front of Juni’s shirt and pulled him roughly off the workbench where he was doing sit-ups, then led him to the side of the room. “You want a Core?”

  “What?” Juni’s blue eyes widened in surprise at both the question and the near manic expression on his best friend’s face.

  “Look, Arkin’s been killing Cores. I’m not sure how many they have on this ship, but right now there is one that he’ll probably kill within the next twelve hours. They may have a supply of Cores on this ship but I’m tired of sitting here doing nothing,” Damion explained in a low, hushed tone, making sure no one could hear him.

  “Um, I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about here, buddy.” Juni frowned, and Damion could tell that he wasn’t sure if Damion was telling the truth or had gone completely off the deep end. “Is this even legit?”

  “Probably not.” Damion shook his head and then dragged Juni by the upper arm out of the workout room and away from others. “Look. You’ll be saving a life, and I’m not making that fucking part up. Plus, we get to piss off Arkin.”

  “If I get dishonorably discharged, I’m kicking your ass.” Juni yanked his arm free from his friend’s bruising grip and followed Damion.

  “That’s it?” Juni’s quick agreement surprised Damion.

  “You’re either crazy, drunk, or I’m just insane enough to trust you. We’ll figure out which one it is in a few minutes.”

  “Just be quiet, follow me, and don’t make a sound.”

  Damion knew a few other people in the corridor would start to notice they didn’t belong within the area, so he used his Alpha-status badge to purloin the Elite elevators to Medical. He trusted 47 to gain him access even if Medical was now in fake quarantine.

  Once Damion and Juni were in the elevator, 47 spoke through the speaker system. “I apologize if I am being ‘creepy’ again, but deemed it necessary to report. Medical is fully sealed under quarantine. No one is present except for 108. The other Cores were already claimed by their Fighters since they were not as affected. Arkin has been confined to his room, also under quarantine. I have impressed your plan onto 108 and implemented the beginning of the bonding process between him and Juni. He was never fully bonded with Arkin, and he agreed quickly.”

  “Bonded, huh? Isn’t this supposed to be done after we’re chosen?” Juni looked at Damion in obvious confusion.

  “By the power invested in me and my incredibly talented Core, you’ve been chosen. Think of it as making a best friend in about five seconds.” Damion had no other way to describe it, since Fighters didn’t go through the bonding process in the same manner as Cores. All Damion knew was that 47 had initiated the bonding while Damion was sleeping on the night 47 chose him. But Damion had trusted the strange man ever since, even finding himself liking and enjoying 47’s company more and more over the week that he’d known him.

  “Is he broken? Why the fuck are we going into a quarantined area?”

  Juni was beginning to panic.

  “It’s fake, the quarantine—47 can do that. But no, 108 is fine for being a Core. No one will think anything other than 108 is a bit of a fickle ass. He’s lucky, because Arkin is good but not as good as us, and this time Arkin got real damn close to blowing us into space vapor—something he’s never been able to do with his other Core. I think 108 will be even more exceptional once he’s out of Arkin’s control.” Damion tried to sound excited for Juni, but really he wanted 108 out of Arkin’s hands.

  “Won’t Arkin get a new one in a few weeks?” Juni asked as the elevator doors opened onto the Medical corridor.

  “Shhh.” Damion waved his hand to shut Juni up and looked around. He wasn’t going to take any chances. Happy that the hallway was empty, he ran. He followed the green, open doorways to find the Core Diagnostic section in the Med Bay where 108 would be kept, knowing 47 wouldn’t allow him to get lost.

  Once Damion and Juni were inside, the doors closed behind them and the lights turned red. 47’s voice came over the comm system.

  “I have stopped all the sensors from indicating a disturbance, but I will not be able to hold it for long before someone recognizes a loop. I’m bringing 108 out of stasis now.”

  A few seconds later, 108’s eyes fluttered open. They were steel gray, a color only found in the eyes of those Saturn-born. The rest of him—the dark tan skin, ebony hair, and fine bone structure—were also traits from the same planet. Those eyes met first Damion’s and then Juni’s.

  “He will not be able to communicate for approximately two hours due to the stun from the Impulse Barrier. I have already changed records to show that 108 has chosen Fighter Juni.”

  “Why did I have to come?” Juni asked, looking down at the rather skinny young man in the pod.

  “Here.” Damion went across the Diagnostic room and dragged a chair over to the side of 108’s pod. “Sit.”

  He pushed on Juni’s shoulders and Juni had no choice but to sit down quickly. Then Damion took his hand and put
it on 108’s. “Let him bond to your electromagnetic waves and a bunch of other stuff I don’t get, so that there is no chance in hell that Arkin can dispute this.”

  “Okay, sure. Damion, you sound like a crazy man.” Juni frowned but kept his hand on the Core’s. “Arkin wanted you dead before. Now he’s going to want me dead too.”

  “When we’re done with this, we’re going to go have a nice chat with Arkin,” Damion said in a dark voice as he walked over to one of the computer stations. “47, give us a four-minute head start before the system comes back up, but keep Arkin locked in his room. Then I want you to secure a path for us to the air locks down by the trash collectors on the seventh floor starboard area. Just in case we need them in an emergency.”

  “As you order,” 47 confirmed. “You have approximately eleven minutes before I can no longer hold the systems.” A diagram of the areas Damion had spoken of appeared on the medical screen in front of him, an arrowed path appearing on the map. “This is the route you will need to take so that I can keep you secure.”

  108’s gaze seemed to be riveted on Juni’s. Hearing 47’s voice, his steel gaze flickered to the monitor and then back to Juni.

  “Forgive my interruption, but 108 is still… afraid. He is worried that Fighter Mathis will treat him just as Arkin did. For all my attempts to tell him otherwise, I deduce that he only might start believing it if you told him the truth.”

  “Juni, hurry things up, tell the Core that you’re not a raping, abusive asshole.” Damion looked over at his friend, sighing with impatience.

  “You serious? Wait, never mind, you and your creepy Core go ahead and keep plotting your crazy schemes.” Juni shook his head and stood back up so he could look down at the Core. He kept hold of 108’s hand. “Is my arm supposed to buzz?”

  “Juni!” Damion hissed.

  “Eh, hey, I’m Juni. Juni Mathis. I’ve never hit anyone in my life—well, not in the way Arkin hit people, only the people in bars who try to steal my date. I don’t really have much interest either in other guys. No offense. I sort of dig the tits-and-ass type to keep my interest.”