Chrysalis Corporation

by T. A. Venedicktov

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Damion spat through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing in anger. “He isn’t replaceable! He isn’t a machine! Just because you gave up, doesn’t mean I’m going to!”

  “And I’m just wondering how you think that isn’t love?” Collins said with a small sad grin around the mouth of his bottle. “For the record, I didn’t give up. I never had the opportunity to do anything other than let it happen. I was unconscious when he was taken, and anything else would have been suicide anyway and that wouldn’t have helped him either.”

  Damion took a swig of his drink, trying to wash away the bad taste in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if it was his anger or his fear that had him choked up at the moment. It may have even been Collins’s words making him feel confused and panicked. “I just want my Core back.”

  “Understandable. And they’ll return him—this time. But the question is, what will you do when they do?” Collins focused intently on Damion.

  Damion pulled the beer away from his lips and gave him an incredulous look. “What do you mean? Even if they numb him up, he will still be my Core.”

  Collins rolled his eyes in exasperation. “That isn’t what I meant. I’ve given you examples of everything they do. After your Core comes back, are you going to follow their rules or attempt to get the Core who you know and appreciate back and therefore face the possibility of losing him permanently?”

  “I don’t have a choice.” Damion dry washed his face. “I can’t tell you what I have planned. I just met you. I don’t know if I can trust you.” More than he had already, anyway.

  “Very true. And good call. I just wanted to get you thinking about other options.” Collins finished off his beer and tossed it in the trash.

  “I grew up on Mars. I know you can’t trust anyone in uniform.” Damion sat back down and wondered why they would even let a man who had a Core taken away guard him. A grand plan to show Damion how powerless he was in the face of the Corporation’s power. “The next few hours are going to suck.”

  Collins laughed, a short bark that sounded husky from disuse. “Both very true points. Got a pack of cards?”

  “I packed a deck when I was shipped out, but I haven’t used it in a few weeks. Juni sucks at poker and my Core just counts the cards.” Damion went back to his duffel to look inside, wanting to bolt. Wanting to track Requiem down and make sure he wasn’t being hurt. But he couldn’t do any of that, and he needed more than one beer to take his tension away.

  Collins stood up and grabbed the table, putting it between their chairs. “No offense, but if they happen to check on us and don’t see my ass planted in front of the door, they’ll pull me, and I can assure you Miles don’t give a shit about you or your Core. I’ll do what I can to pull the full shift instead of splitting it with the asshole.” He reached into his uniform jacket and pulled out a flask, setting it on the table. “Here, you need this more than I do right now. Mostly because I don’t suck at poker and you’re going to need it to soothe your pride.”

  “Big talk from an infantryman.” Damion sat down and put the deck on the table. “You want to use real credits or ration vouchers?”

  Collins turned his chair back around to a proper position and sat down once again. “We’ll start off with the vouchers. I hoard my money like a dragon hoards gold, and I’m rather reluctant to give it up. You wanna deal first or shall I?”

  “Aren’t you a little old to believe in dragons? Next you’ll say there are aliens hiding behind the sun.” Damion opened the deck and began to fold the cards while looking at the flask.

  “What? You didn’t get that memo? Well, aren’t you in the fucking dark ages?” Collins used a pinky finger to push the flask toward Damion. “Go again. Take a swig right now. I promise it ain’t poisoned. Well, not in the literal sense. Shit will take the hair off your balls, but it won’t outright kill you.”

  Damion took the flask and tipped it back, letting the liquid hit his tongue. It was smooth at first, but then his entire throat felt as if it had been set on fire. Goddamn Uranian whiskey was easy to pick out because it took all of Damion’s strength not to cough up the acid eroding his throat. “Not bad.” He couldn’t hide the wheeze.

  He put the flask down and began to deal the cards, unable to say another word for the next few minutes. He was almost scared to take a drag from his smoke in case his entire body lit on fire from the inside out.

  “You’re tougher than I thought. You can still talk,” Collins teased blandly, looking at his cards.

  For the remaining time, they played cards, drank, and generally tried to keep Damion’s mind off what was happening to Requiem. Collins managed to keep the whole shift, despite the regretful growls from Miles, who had been looking forward to goading Damion to do something stupid—that was what Collins told him, and Damion knew it was possible.

  Eventually Damion had to lie down, his head swirling from the strong liquor, while Collins dozed with his back against the door.

  The ten long hours passed and began to creep into the eleventh before Collins started to frown at the clock in the room. It was only then that the door beeped, asking for the unlock code. Collins stood up, straightening his uniform, before passing his card over the panel to unlock the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Damion

  “LOOK ALIVE, Fighter.”

  Damion rolled off the bed and stood up straight, keeping his mouth shut, even though he wanted to tell the man to go to hell. He tried to look past Collins, hoping to see Requiem.

  Requiem was brought in by two men. They were not the same men who had taken him away. They held him up on either side by his arms. His head was bowed and his toes dragged heavily even as he attempted to walk. Damp hair plastered his head, shaping paler than usual skin, which was saying something. The lieutenant followed behind, his lips pursed in a frown as he kept sharp eyes on Damion. He flicked his chin to Collins and then the door.

  “Remember what I said,” Collins shot a look full of pity at Damion as he saluted the lieutenant and then left. The two others took Requiem to the capsule, lifting him roughly into the pod before letting him slump back. His ice blue eyes were glazed and only half-open as the men left him and went out the door.

  Damion rushed to Requiem’s side and pulled him forward into a sitting position. “What did they do? Are you okay?”

  Requiem blinked blearily at Damion. His arms were limp at his sides, and a bruise colored the bend of one arm with a trickle of blood still trailing down. His skin was chilled and damp, and the pads of his fingers appeared wrinkled, signifying he had been submerged for a long time.

  “I am acceptable, but weary” was all Requiem said, his voice monotone, cold, and husky as if it had been misused at length.

  “Fuck.” Damion picked him up carefully and carried him to the bed. “You look like shit. Have you even eaten in the last few hours? I bet you haven’t.”

  Requiem had wilted. It was obvious he didn’t have control over his muscles yet.

  “My stomach was emptied for the procedure, so no, I have not. I am not in need of sustenance at this time. If you wish me to, I will consume my rations.”

  “You’re back to talking like a machine.” Damion sighed as he wrapped Requiem up in all the blankets he owned and leaned him back against the pillows. “I’ll get you some water. If you haven’t had anything in your stomach for a while, you might get sick if we push it.”

  “As you wish,” Requiem replied. “I would also be quite acceptable in my capsule if you do not prefer me in your sleeping space.” His voice was weary and his eyes still half-open. He looked content to remain on the surface of the bed.

  “You really are acting different.” Damion hated both himself and Collins for being right. “You know I want you with me. Don’t you remember what we were doing here less than a day ago?”

  Requiem blinked very slowly, and Damion could almost see the gears working in his mind. “I do apologize, but I do not have much recollecti
on for a segment of time ranging for approximately two weeks. I have retained some pieces, but a significant portion is not present.”

  “What?” Damion’s voice rose. “How can they do that?”

  Requiem blinked again through soggy strands of hair, his head tilting slightly in the familiar birdlike motion, except jerkily this time, like an unoiled robot. “How can who do what, sir?”

  Damion punched the air above and in front of him, fighting off the very men in his mind who had done this to them. The moment his fists stopped moving, he screamed, his voice cracking in the process, “Take away your memories!”

  “I am not privileged to that information,” Requiem said, starting to tremble despite the layers of blankets around him.

  “It can’t be permanent. Maybe it’s a side effect?” Damion asked Requiem, struggling to keep hope alive inside himself.

  “I am concluding that you mean a side effect of my procedure. I do not know.”

  Requiem wasn’t able to keep his head up anymore and let it fall back against the wood of the recessed bookshelf with a low thunk.

  “Requiem….” Damion sighed and pulled him more centrally onto the bed and tucked him in tightly. Once finished, he sat on the edge, hands folded and dangling between his knees, thinking and trying to control his urge to find the person responsible and commit homicide.

  Then it dawned on him.

  He was the one responsible for everything going on at the moment. He was the one who pushed Requiem to eat real food instead of his rations, and he was the one who initiated sex that Requiem actually enjoyed.

  It was his fault.

  Requiem finally seemed to stop shivering, and perhaps it wasn’t just because of the blankets but because of Damion’s presence. Requiem watched him through hooded eyes for a few moments.

  “You do not seem completely acceptable, and I hypothesize that it is because I do not have the knowledge you require. Is there anything that I might do to assist you?”

  Damion sighed, rubbing his face as he tried to hide his despair. “Just go to sleep. I can only pray you remember everything when you wake up.”

  “I have displeased you. I apologize.”

  Requiem’s mechanical tone was softer in repentance. Slowly, and with obvious effort, he sat up and struggled out of the blankets before moving off the bed and shakily walking toward his pod. Despite Damion’s insistence that he wanted Requiem to sleep in the bed, Requiem seemed almost compelled not to. His eyes glazed again as he wobbled across the room.

  “Where in Hades are you going?” Damion asked, more than a little pissed off as he watched his Core—or the person who used to be his Core, because the man in front of him was just a shell.

  With visible effort to keep himself on his feet, Requiem turned around to look at Damion. “You ordered me to go to sleep. I am required to use my capsule to do so.”

  “No, you don’t. You’ve slept in my bed for almost a month. Now get back into bed and sleep.” Damion tried to control his temper, to remind himself that it wasn’t Requiem’s fault that he was like this. Damion couldn’t take his fury out on the exhausted man. So he added a “Please.”

  Requiem merely stood there for a moment, beginning to tremble. He looked to be fighting an internal battle that had him panting with effort. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, as he fought the compulsions placed upon him. Slowly, carefully, shakily, he took a step back toward the bed.

  “Stubborn fool, even brainwashing you doesn’t change that,” Damion said fondly as he stood and picked up Requiem once again, dropping him back into bed with a little less finesse than usual. He began to wrap Requiem in the blankets, cocooning him in soft warmth. “Stay.”

  Requiem was still breathing heavily. The sweat on his body was just making him shudder, and his skin looked feverish as he watched Damion with heavy-lidded, exhausted eyes. “Was ordered by you to stay. Was ordered by the Creators to jack in. I will admit I do not know what to do.”

  “You’re supposed to listen to me. You’re my Core.” Damion looked at Requiem straight on, his stern expression allowing no resistance to his orders. “Let me deal with those assholes. They’ve had you jacked in for hours already.”

  Suddenly Requiem’s pale hand was out from under the blankets, fingers held gently against Damion’s lips. He was fighting another internal battle, and it showed in his eyes, his teeth chattering as he spoke. “I r-request that you do not s-speak of anything that you wish not to be repeated back to the Creators.”

  “I can’t even trust you not to tell them everything now?” Damion’s voice was filled with hatred, and then immediately it changed to overwhelming sorrow. “Where did you go? Are you even still in there?” He spoke in a soft, broken voice as he finally realized that Collins had been telling him the complete truth—Requiem was different. More 47 than Requiem now.

  Requiem’s gaze met Damion’s tortured one. “I do not know how to properly answer that question” was all he could reply verbally. However, tears gathered and slipped down his cheeks. Just a few before they ceased, seemingly never noticed by Requiem. His mind and what he could say, what he could remember, were wrapped in chains, binding who he truly was.

  “I’m sorry. Just get some rest.” Damion gently brushed the wet cheek with a slightly trembling hand. “I’m sure you’ve been through hell.”

  “There is no need for you to apologize. It is my lack of information that is at fault.” Requiem slipped farther into the blankets, letting the warmth wrap around him, dragging him toward the abyss. “As you order.”

  “As I order,” Damion mumbled as he watched his Core—his lover—slip into oblivion.

  What the hell was he going to do? Everything they had just gone through was wiped. Everything. A part of him still felt the need to lash out.

  His pondering was interrupted by an insistent banging on the door to his quarters. “Damion! You in there? Fuck, man, answer the damn door!” a familiar voice demanded, tinged with fear and worry.

  Damion went to the door and flung it open. “Stop screaming! Gods, you’re worse than a yowling cat.”

  “Well, if you had seen Security guarding your best friend’s door for most of the day, you’d be howling like a cat too,” Juni spat uncharacteristically, quickly walking into the room past Damion and then whirling around to meet him eye to eye. “What in the gods’ names happened?”

  “They took him.” Damion quickly closed the door and waved a hand toward the occupied bed. “They took him, wiped him clean, and now, now he’s back to the way it was when we first met. He doesn’t remember anything.”

  Juni’s gaze took in the sleeping figure in the bed before looking back to Damion with a stunned expression.

  “Fuck. I mean… shit…. Shit.” Juni couldn’t manage to articulate more than that, running his fingers through his hair. “What do you mean by anything? You mean everything or…? And why did they take him? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I don’t know. They just showed up.” Damion sat down on the foot of the bed almost bonelessly, looking at the ground without truly seeing it. “All I can think of is that when he jacked in last night they somehow found out. They said they knew he had a dream. Knew he hadn’t been taking his full ration of supplements.”

  Grabbing a chair, Juni dragged it to sit in front of him. “He dreamed? 108 hasn’t done that and he hasn’t been taking the supplements as frequently either. Although he also jacked in last night.” Juni was quiet for a moment before shrugging slightly. “I know it’s a pain in the ass, but can you just start from the beginning again? He’s bound to remember something eventually.”

  Damion pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, which were burning with the threat of tears. “From the beginning? Fuck, Juni, it took months for me just to….”

  Juni didn’t push him to complete that sentence. “So what are you going to do? What are your other options?” he asked quietly, trying not to disturb Requiem’s sleep. “I know if it was 108, I’d be goin’
fuckin’ insane right now, trying to figure this shit out.”

  “I fucking don’t know, okay?” Damion’s hands clenched over his forehead. “I’ve been warned that if it fucking happens again, I’ll be dishonorably discharged. They’ll take him and plug him into the main system!”

  Juni looked at him with his mouth open wide for a moment before it shut with a click of his teeth. Cursing under his breath, he stood and began pacing. “And if you find a way to take him away, they’ll just find you both.” He was silently saying Damion was damned either way. “Well fuck, D. You’re the smarter one out of the both of us, and if we can’t figure this out, we’re screwed.” He turned to Damion before he could protest. “And yes, I meant both of us. I’m not letting you deal with this shit alone. Not only are you my best friend, but eventually they’ll come after 108 and I just…. That can’t happen. I’m sorry, Damion.”

  “If they haven’t picked up 108 yet, maybe there is something he’s doing differently when he goes into the capsule, and maybe that can help us.” Damion was thinking out loud, reaching for anything that might help his situation. “But you can’t get involved. I’m sure they’re already watching you and him closer now as well, since we’re known to hang together.”

  “I’ll talk to 108, see what he can tell me, but the hell with just abandoning you and 47! I don’t care if they know we hang out together. I’m not going to just desert you guys, and I know 108 will feel the same,” Juni insisted.

  “We can’t trust him.” Damion looked toward his sleeping Core. “Requiem… he said that everything I say to him would get reported back to them. I don’t know how long that will last or if he can even fight it.”

  Juni was silent for a moment, pity and anger apparent in his normally jovial features. “The fact that he was able to warn you is proof enough that he’s trying to fight whatever sick fucking compulsions they put on him.” Juni’s gaze flickered to Requiem, who was in a deep sleep. “Maybe you can’t trust what you say around him, but always trust that he’ll be fighting. I’ve seen that in him more so than 108. 108 was beaten down over time, but 47, he’s always been a fighter.”