Renegade: The Ten Sigma Series Book 2

by A W Wang

  “Nothing concrete. Just abstract concepts like I must have had parents and a husband.”

  Another uncomfortable minute filled with scribbling passes.

  “Nothing more specific?”

  I meet his gaze, picturing the green threads. “Those memories were erased a long time ago.”

  “You were given the knowledge of New Austin, and this is what helped during the battle?”

  “Yes, just the details of the area.”

  “Were you given anything else?

  “No.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing,” I say, forcing my expression to remain blank.

  “I see.”

  Tense moments pass with only the scratches of the quill interrupting the silence. Finally, he glances up, and although his eyes remain flat, his serious expression lightens. “That’s all I have, and this interview is now concluded.”

  “I hope I was helpful.”

  “You were, and I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable,” he says, leaning back.

  “No, as you said, we all have our jobs to do.”

  He smiles in an almost charming manner. “Oh, I do have one other question.”

  “What?” I say, instantly on guard.

  “Was there any issue with your combat abilities?”

  I shake my head.

  “Can you provide a yes or no?”

  “No. Or else how could I have held my own against those augments?”

  “An excellent point.”

  As he adds a few more words on a fresh sheet, I tighten my lips, understanding he’s more of a threat to me than any enhanced being.

  He sets the quill down and steeples his hands. “You did perform well. We’ve identified the beings you fought. They’re Midnight Tigers, dangerous augments from the Southeast Asian Coalition.”

  “Does that mean we’ll be at war?”

  He chuckles. “Oh, they’ll deny it, and we’ll never be able to conclusively prove the truth.”

  When I arch an eyebrow, he elaborates, “Most nations build in fail-safes to avoid problems. In this case, the bodies melted within hours of death.”

  “Oh.”

  “But, don’t worry. We’ll get our revenge in a similar way. That’s how the world works nowadays.”

  I feign ignorance. He’s not chatting for idle conversation. “If you say so…”

  “You should be impressed with your value. It’s quite an expenditure of assets to answer one riddle.” He leans forward. “Do you know why we have ten sigmas?”

  As the terrifying experiences from my last memory dump enter my head, I shift uncomfortably on the mattress. “No.”

  “Military hardware is terribly expensive.”

  “Victoria mentioned the M24s.”

  “Those are a mere pittance. I’m speaking of real weapon systems. AI-controlled battle craft like the ones taking off when you landed.”

  “When you said you liked the human form better?”

  He laughs. “You do have quite the memory. Autonomous units are fantastically expensive. They were pushing countries to bankruptcy, but nobody would stop the arms race. Finally, there was a huge battle…”

  Images of drones over the Red Sea flash in my mind. I force myself to watch Balthazar’s lips tell the story while the fighting replays from the data dump. As white spheres engulf the landmass, Balthazar says, “That was the Djibouti incident.”

  Fifty million civilians slaughtered…

  Oblivious to the nature of my thoughts, Balthazar continues, “… which led to a new Geneva convention that rendered autonomous weapon systems illegal outside of their national borders—”

  “You were going to talk about why ten sigmas exist?”

  “The restrictions led to human augmentation projects to fill the power void, and that’s where ten sigmas come in,” he says with a smile.

  “That makes you happy?”

  “Why shouldn’t it?”

  Instead of replying, I shrug, guessing that ten sigmas shouldn’t be too opinionated.

  He clucks his tongue. “You don’t get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “We live in an age of heroes. Ones that can be crafted to suit different needs.”

  I swallow a pool of saliva, hearing horrible screams coming from clandestine research centers.

  “Isn’t any of this in your original corpus of knowledge?” he asks.

  Instead of taking the bait, I shake my head. “I was only given the details of New Austin.”

  “You should look it up. Altering the human form to create augmented beings is fascinating stuff.

  “All I need to know is that ten sigmas are the best.”

  He purses his lips. “We have intelligence that other nations are catching up.”

  “With the way Samantha and Peter tore through the midnight tigers, I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’s true. The CIA says they have a new battle asset called Midnight Dragons, with a new defensive scheme. Some even think they can be a match for a ten sigma under the right circumstances.”

  I wait for him to show that he’s joking. He’s not.

  “Also, the Russians and Germans are making headway too.”

  “If that’s the case, I’m positive the ten sigmas will figure out a way to win.”

  “Yes, I imagine you might.”

  “Well, you’ve told me quite a bit for one day. I’m sure you have other duties,” I say, hoping to end the conversation before I make a catastrophic mistake.

  A disappointed breath leaves his mouth. “Should you ever want to chat or ask any more questions, please let me know.”

  “If I think of anything, I’ll do that,” I say while the threads again inform me of how to snatch the quill and—

  The chair squeaks as the Balthazar rises.

  I push the table forward, also getting to my feet. “I hope everything was satisfactory. If you need anything else?”

  “No, I don’t believe that will be necessary.”

  He holds up the final parchment and blows on the wet ink. Then he stacks the papers neatly and picks up the pile. “Guards, we’re finished here.”

  A black knight steps from the surrounding circle and unlocks the door.

  After Balthazar grabs his writing implements and exits, the other three guards clear the table and chair. When they are safely outside, the first black knight slams the door.

  As the mechanical lock clicks, Balthazar pauses, centering his gaze on me. “You must have had many suitors in your prior life.”

  The improbable notion that the loathsome man is asking for a “Proper Welcome” crashes through my mind, but there’s nothing sexual in his voice or stare.

  I meet his eyes and reply, “I wouldn’t remember any of that.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would.” He sends another chilling smile. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  After he leaves, I frown, hoping I wasn’t.

  Twenty-Four

  After a night of battling my body’s budding libido, I wake from a restless sleep in a sullen mood. The last thing I need is a “Proper Welcome.”

  No matter how much it might be a relief and show people I’m a ten sigma.

  The door opens with a squeak, and a cool, regal Victoria enters in her white uniform of leadership.

  I push my hands on the mattress to stand. “When—”

  She waves for me to remain seated and puts a finger over her mouth.

  Understanding her desire for silence, I settle back onto the bed while she motions the guards away.

  After the door slams, her gray eyes study me as the clacking footsteps of the black knights recede.

  I meet her stare, holding my breath.

  Trust Victoria.

  When the hallway quiets, she smiles and sits on the bed, angling her body toward me. “I see you’re doing well.”

  Although I hope she’s come as a friend, I reply neutrally, “Things could be better.”

  “Is there anythi
ng I can do?”

  “When can I get out of here?”

  “Tomorrow you’ll be brought before a tribunal. Quite the audience of dignitaries will be present.”

  “I suppose I’m quite the honored guest,” I say, mimicking Peter’s words.

  “Yes, you are.” She purses her lips. “In other news, we have a lead about your husband.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing worth mentioning yet.”

  Uncomfortable moments pass as she scrutinizes me for any reaction.

  To break the impasse, I ask, “Has anything been done to rescue the people who were taken from New Austin?”

  Her gray eyes quiver. “That’s an interesting question.”

  I tighten my lips, wondering if I’ve shown too much curiosity.

  She frowns. “As much as I hate to admit it, the country is reeling. Things were bad before. And now…” She takes a deep breath, glancing away. “We’ve never had an incursion of this size or suffered these types of losses at any time in our history. There aren’t even available units to scour New Austin to recover technology.”

  “Won’t there be people trying to steal it?”

  “There is surveillance for looters, and we have enough of a reaction force to discourage that type of behavior.”

  “But—”

  “My point is not to disappoint you. We arrested the fall of society after the great cities collapsed. New D.C. is only a tiny corner of the world, but from here, we will rebuild what we once were.” Her eyes return to mine. “Your sympathies are noted. I understand this has been hard on you, by yourself in this cell. Please concentrate on what you can control and don’t worry about anything else.

  “There is a time and place for everything. When things are ready, rest assured, there will be payback.”

  Because her words flow with such surety, I sigh, reminding myself again never to be her enemy.

  “Remember what I said in that hotel room. Where there is crisis, there is opportunity.”

  “Never let a good crisis go to waste?”

  A smile crosses her face. “Never.”

  How she can make something out of the current mess is beyond my pay grade, but I return a shallow nod.

  She touches my shoulder. “Regardless of what happens, you are part of the plan for the betterment of this country.”

  The simple truth of the statement puts me at ease, and I reply, “I’ll do my best to help.”

  “Good. I’m getting you a brush and a maroon outfit, so you’ll be presentable.”

  “Thanks.”

  “At least you’ll look the part of a ten sigma, although you should endeavor to be a bit more than that.”

  “Okay,” I say dumbly, not exactly sure of how much I want to carry through with that suggestion.

  “When the time comes for you to speak at the tribunal, I can only tell you to be as honest as you can. Yet, think of what those in judgment would like to see and hear from you.”

  When I don’t respond to the advice, she grins. “The situation isn’t as bad as it may appear. The President, our leader, is committed to holding at all costs. Some would argue that, given our current resources, we don’t have enough to defend everything. You witnessed the disaster of New Austin.”

  She pauses until I nod.

  “The ten sigmas contribute more to bolster our defenses than any other assets. I’m sure you know how hard it is to produce more of you.”

  I frown, trying to avoid thoughts of those who never made it out of the program.

  “There aren’t enough of you to stem the tide, even if you always return victorious.”

  “We’re made to win battles, but we’re not winning the war?”

  She snorts. “That’s a good way of stating the overall limitations of a ten sigma. But, I was referring to the fact that this country needs you. So please, do your best to conform, and rest assured, I will do my best to remedy the situation.”

  I dip my head, unsure of why the last statement makes me uncomfortable.

  Victoria rises and steps to the entrance, signaling the guards to return.

  As the door opens, she waves. “Remember what I said, and I’ll see you tomorrow at the tribunal.”

  Trust Victoria.

  My stomach sinks as I repeat the thought.

  Freshly showered and dressed in the maroon of a ten sigma, I’m marched across the Hanover Building at noon. Despite being flanked by Samantha and Ekton in their silvery battle-mesh, my hands are again manacled to my sides and my feet chained together.

  Except for black knights positioned at intersections, the dim gaslit passageways are empty. Only the gentle clinking of my restraints accompanies our lonely steps.

  As the minutes pass, I notice something strange. Aside from watching me, Samantha and Ekton are sending lingering glances at each other.

  I roll my eyes. No doubt, the two are getting ready for a “Proper” whatever after the trial finishes.

  The uncomfortable journey finally ends when we reach a wide corridor and march to a tall pair of wooden doors.

  After the broad panels swing aside, I enter a gigantic seven-sided chamber covered by glossy wood tones. Cherry paneling rises multiple stories, leading to the glare of a skylight centered in an arched, seven-pedaled ceiling. Besides the noontime sun pouring from the domed glass, the rest of the illumination in the elegant space comes from yellow glows of gaslights ringing the lower tiers.

  Looking like executioners waiting to mete out sentences, black knights stand at angles in the walls on the ground floor and in scattered balconies above.

  Ekton grabs my elbow and escorts me down the main aisle toward an imposing three-story high judge’s bench. Rows of chairs are set to either side for spectators. Although the arrangement can hold a couple of hundred people, only a few seats are occupied.

  Odd notes of cologne drift past.

  I glance to my left where Balthazar sits next to an outer aisle, engrossed in reading sheets of parchment. Since I have no interest in deepening any relationship with him, I face forward, continuing the slow march.

  Near the front of the audience section, Jonathon sits alone. As I approach, he looks over his shoulder, catching my eye. Before I can speak, he slowly shakes his head, which I take as a warning not to volunteer any information.

  At least no more than I’ve already mentioned…

  Samantha opens the wooden gate where the aisle ends, and Ekton guides me down a couple of steps into the court area.

  A heaviness weighs on my shoulders as I settle into a seat behind the defendant’s table, staring at the oppressive surroundings.

  The layout is familiar. A raised lectern for giving oral arguments sits on my right. On a rectangular platform past that rests the prosecutor’s table. Ahead, boxed areas and desks for court functionaries are positioned in front of the judge’s bench, which looms over all.

  The godlike figures of the two ten sigmas standing behind me only magnify my unease.

  Squeaks come as a breathless Peter pulls out the chair next to me and plops onto the leather cushion. His lips are twisted into a silly smirk, and a reddish flush, which complements the maroon of his ten sigma outfit, covers his face.

  He just had “Proper” sex…

  I hate that the wicked realization triggers a pulse of heat from my lower half.

  He winks.

  “Are you defending me?” I ask, bewildered by his company.

  “No,” he replies with a chuckle.

  “Then why are you sitting here?”

  “Ten sigmas can do whatever we want, so I wanted to say hello.”

  I glance back at Samantha and Ekton, who are doing their best to ignore the conversation.

  Peter taps my arm. “I did mention you were quite the guest. It’s going to be quite the day.”

  “Why?”

  He points to a grandstand near the entrance, which is the same three-story height as the judge’s bench. “The President is going to be there.”

&
nbsp; Another grandstand rests across the center aisle. “Who’s going to be in the other one?”

  “That’s for Congress, but they’re virtual and nobody really cares what they have to say or what they do. It’ll probably stay empty.”

  Although I’m sure the cubes in my head have the answers, I ask, “What’s going to happen?”

  Before he responds, a door in the opposite wall opens and people dressed in neat gray uniforms file into the sunken area. While the rest take their positions in front of the bench as court functionaries, a slim man, who I assume is the bailiff, steps near the lectern.

  The bustle across the space stops.

  “All rise for the Honorable Chief Justice of the United States, Allison Taylor.”

  “I better run back to my seat,” Peter says, pushing out of his chair.

  Samantha grabs my shoulders and pulls me into a standing position.

  A moment later, an older woman in a black robe enters from a door in front of me. Stairs creak as she ascends the judicial bench. When she rises above the top rampart of the structure and studies the gathering, sunlight sparkles in her silvery hair. Like Victoria, Allison Taylor has a regal bearing, but unlike Victoria, who radiates intelligence, the Chief Justice radiates fairness and impartiality—everything a judge should be.

  Her lips tighten into a frown. “Everyone, please bear with me for a moment.”

  Footsteps pad from the main entrance, and the bailiff announces, “Please, welcome the President of the United States.”

  The President, a thin, balding man wearing a white garment of leadership, marches through the entryway. Golden epaulets adorn his shoulders, and the trim running down his uniform is so white it practically glows. A dozen white-clad, gold-trimmed guards follow. While the well-armed men fan out, scanning the crowd for threats, the President slowly walks up the steps of the Executive Grandstand.

  A harried-looking Victoria rushes down the center aisle and heads to a seat behind Jonathon. She brushes a stray hair from her cheek and mouths to me, “Remember what we discussed.”

  I return a nod, worried.

  Victoria is usually cool and collected, but now…

  When the President seats himself in the center of the first row, the Chief Justice says, “Everyone, please be seated.”