Renegade: The Ten Sigma Series Book 2

by A W Wang

  I purse my lips, mulling how to respond to the unexpected question without revealing too many troublesome details. Before the silence becomes awkward, I reply with the most obvious answer, “Because I went through the program like everyone else, and because I reached ten sigmas like everyone else.”

  “You aren’t like everyone else.”

  So much for avoiding troublesome details…

  I pinch the folds of my trousers to prevent my hands from wandering or slapping anything from annoyance and say, “No, Mr. First Ten Sigma, I am not.”

  When he glares, I dial back the emotions. “I entered the program from a body of flesh and blood with a past. It stands to reason that, with a different beginning, I’d be different from everyone else, even with the same training. And my re-entry into this world was out of the ordinary, to say the least.”

  He grunts.

  While the response doesn’t signal agreement, I take heart that he’s not disagreeing with my logic either.

  “Why should I be a ten sigma?” I continue. “I’ve completed every task that was asked of me to graduate from the program. I forced my way into this body, which is something a lesser person wouldn’t be able to do, and I killed augments without battle-mesh. Most importantly, I accomplished my first mission.”

  “With help.”

  “Accomplished nonetheless. And without me protecting Victoria and being the lure to pull all the augments into a central location, you might not have accomplished yours.”

  “We would have found a way.”

  “But, it wouldn’t have been so easy.”

  His huge head dips. “Perhaps…”

  With the conversation leaning in my favor, I attack to shift the subject from things I need to keep secret. “So, please forgive me, if I’m not as excited about proper welcomes as everyone else,” I say, wondering why of all the available topics I choose the indirect reference to sex.

  A smirk enters his expression. Given my history of beatings from the bald giant, the sight isn’t a comforting one. “I’m not here for proper welcomes.”

  Weirdly, the rejection unsettles me, and my body flushes. I force away the implications, telling myself how much I’m not attracted to the creature in front of me.

  His voice softens as he says, “I’m monogamous with Samantha now.”

  I pause at the revelation, wondering if the flesh is somehow corrupting his programming. Although the idea should be impossible, there were the clandestine looks they gave each other before my trial.

  More than just ‘proper’ welcomes?

  “Don’t tell me you’re in love?”

  “I’m not sure what the word would be. Suffice to say that we enjoy each other’s company to the exclusion of all others. Perhaps we might even marry. So, while you are attractive, even beautiful, I am not available.”

  Somehow, the honesty and devotion make him a little more human. I shake my head, rejecting the notion, hating myself for feeling anything positive toward this man even though he’s not the same instance of the bald giant I killed.

  “I guess it’s my loss then…”

  “Perhaps something can be arranged,” he says, not picking up on my sarcasm.

  “That won’t be necessary,” I say, throwing my hands up.

  He shrugs.

  “Is there news on Jonathon?” I ask, not just to change the subject.

  His eyes blink in surprise. “That isn’t in my purview. Nor should it be in yours.”

  I tighten my lips, afraid to divulge any more non-ten-sigma curiosities.

  The conversation lapses, and I shift uncomfortably, realizing I truly have nothing in common with the man. “Well, if that’s all…”

  He lets out a long breath. “I bring a message from Victoria.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “She couldn’t bring it herself?”

  “She’s busy, as am I.”

  Instead of escalating the tension with another snarky remark, I fold my arms.

  “Victoria says to be patient. She’s working on a meeting with the President.”

  “He stepped aside for the court’s decision.”

  “Yes, but he can still use an executive pardon.”

  “Only if he decides I’m not a piece of property,” I say, filling in the unsaid words.

  “He just needs to view your worth as Victoria does, and she’s very persuasive.”

  The image of Victoria participating with ten sigmas during “Proper Welcomes” flashes through my thoughts, and I grimace.

  Ekton misreads the expression. “For this reason, you need to be on your best behavior.”

  “Is that her advice or yours?” I say, deciding snarky has its place.

  “Both of ours. So, don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Well, in that case, I’ll try not to do anything.”

  He nods and turns to leave.

  “You didn’t say if you saw my worth,” I say to his back.

  The massive form stops. “While Victoria will argue that we need another ten sigma, my evaluation will be based on whether or not you will uphold ten-sigma values.

  “As the first, I’ve set the course for what ten sigmas are in the real world. Follow my example, and I’ll ensure that you get through this. If you don’t, I’ll help carry out the sentence.”

  I smile, happy that any sympathy I had for this person just evaporated.

  “I’ll make my decision at the meeting,” he says.

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Instead of leaving, he pauses.

  “Is there something else?” I ask with impatience.

  “What do you see when you look at me?”

  My heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

  “The first time you saw me, there was recognition in your eyes. Why?”

  An icy chill claws into my spine, and I will my face not to betray my innermost fears. Rather than a complete lie, I respond with a partial truth. “You reminded me of someone from the Ten Sigma Program.”

  “A friend?”

  “Someone who forced me to become better like you are now by being a perfect example of a ten sigma,” I reply, hoping the answer suffices enough to get him to leave.

  His eyes waver in thought before he unlocks the door and steps outside.

  “See to it that you continue to be like me,” he says.

  I stay quiet as the door closes, and he marches away.

  Being like him is the last thing I want to do…

  After the conversation with Ekton, which I consider more annoying than informative, I sit on the bed, having a meal of brittle yellow cubes. When the sun gives way to night, I brush crumbs from my orange outfit and lie down.

  As with every evening, the guards stand on the balconies like statues, outlined by starlight seeping through the windows.

  A reminder of the discipline and conformity central to Ekton’s philosophy.

  I roll my eyes at the thought.

  Heat blossoms from my lower torso, and a desire for physical contact surges through my being. As with the prior nights, my body is making its desires known.

  I press my thighs together.

  The gentle friction only makes things worse.

  Scowling, I shift to a less uncomfortable position and force my hands to my sides.

  A “Proper Welcome” is not happening now or anytime soon, especially with anyone in this place.

  There are bigger issues.

  Besides Jonathon’s incarceration, which I can’t do anything about at the moment, the death sentence still hangs over my head. Even though it’s been suspended, I need the approval of the President, a man I don’t know, to commute the punishment.

  Tomorrow or any day might be my last.

  My gaze wanders over the motionless shapes of the guards. I have more worth as me than as a cardboard cutout of a ten sigma.

  I have to bring back my past.

  Delicate movements crawl on the metal lattice above.

  I stare at the spider, unsure of why the
many-legged creature intrigues me so much.

  After it disappears into a shadow, I refocus on the more pressing need of restoring my true self.

  The green threads, which hold the government-gathered details of my life, should be enough to trigger a memory. They’re my best choice, but getting to them means revisiting the control mechanism.

  I drag my hand down my face as somber thoughts fill my mind.

  In this incarnation, the damn thing is fighting back hard, even without any of the tricks Jonathon warned about.

  At my low point in the Ten Sigma Program, I defeated it by killing the bald giant.

  Can I win a second time?

  My lips tighten. In this world, there isn’t any convenient dalliance with the blue liquid to prod me into doing something unforeseen and insane.

  But then, how do I connect with my prior self?

  My memories are trying to get out. I only need one catalyst to bypass the control mechanism and set the chain of events in motion.

  A minute passes while desperate ideas whirl through my thoughts.

  I shake my head.

  Only the stories Suri and I swapped in the program, when we tried to save our pasts, have any chance of success. Unfortunately, they failed to evoke any recollection when she repeated them to me.

  I pause the gloomy thought.

  Just because things didn’t work in the virtual universe doesn’t mean they won’t in the real world. Here, with the control mechanism damaged, things might be different.

  But which one would be strong enough to break through?

  Stories of meeting my husband, of family dinners, and of walks in the park skitter through my head.

  All nice, but all bland.

  Another burst of heat spills through my lower half.

  I bite my lip, adjusting to find a less arousing position. Not a problem I need right now.

  Or is it?

  My thighs clench as I remember Suri telling me about the first time I made love with my husband.

  I shift down the mattress, letting the prison outfit tighten over my crotch. Then thinking of the possibilities, I angle my hips back and forth, enjoying the rubbing sensation.

  Even though the recollection is as lacking as the others, my current flesh more than understands the content.

  And that I can use to generate the physical pleasures of sex, which will be the impetus to free that memory from the control mechanism. And after that happens, the rest of my past will follow, just like the information blasting out of a data cube.

  The plan makes sense for a second. Then reality hits, and I sigh at the tenuous chain of assumptions.

  But outside of accepting the fate that society demands, what choice do I have?

  My eyes roam to the black knights, and my cheeks flush. Despite all the horrors I’ve gone through and done, I feel self-conscious about what I’m going to try.

  I grit my teeth. It’s not like they didn’t see everything during my physical examination. And if I can’t regain my past, then sex and killing will be all I have.

  Before I can change my mind, I unzip my outfit. However, instead of removing my clothing, I make a compromise with my prudish self. I yank my arm from the sleeve and rest my palm on my abdomen. Quickly, I cover myself by sliding the zipper back up.

  The position isn’t convenient or comfortable for what I’m attempting, but I could never focus enough to accomplish the plan while being completely nude in front of an audience.

  Even if they are mindless.

  With everything set and no more excuses, I close my eyes and take calming breaths. I picture myself with Suri, sitting under the dome of the barracks. After a few moments, the image surges to life.

  “This was your third date on a warm summer evening,” she says, her eyes alight with desire. “He took you to an Italian cafe where you drank sangria and had the porcini mushroom ravioli while you talked about the future.”

  Although the retelling rapidly faded in the virtual universe, Suri’s words now echo with clarity. I rush past the boring part to reach the physical descriptions I need to make the memory real.

  “Afterward, you invited him back to your room, where at the door, you gave him a sultry kiss…”

  My fingers slip downward, stopping when they find the right spot near the junction of my thighs.

  As my fingertips circle, my body responds and heat spills from my lower half.

  I drift into the sensations, focusing on regaining my past, letting warmth and desire flood into me.

  While Suri describes the foreplay and everything down there grows moist, no hint of a recollection arrives from my old self.

  Frustration leaks into my excitement. There’s nothing beneath the surface of the words. For all the connection I feel to the experience, this could just as well be one of Peter’s lewd stories.

  I rub harder and push in, fighting to force myself into the memory.

  The actions bring pain and more pleasure, but little else.

  As the details turn lurid, my muscles shudder from euphoria. The remainder of the telling speeds by and Suri says, “And then, you both orgasmed at the same time, and you laid together while you gathered your breath.”

  I rest my slick fingers, annoyed.

  The plan didn’t work.

  Except for giving in to the wants of my body, all I’ve done is make a mess.

  My past is just as far away as when I started.

  I blow out a breath of disgust and open my eyes to the harsh glow of gaslights.

  In the balconies above, the guards stand as they were, not caring a bit about my antics, only devoted to being automatons in the service of higher beings.

  Can I surrender to that fate?

  Fear settles into my mood as I consider the alternative to bring back my past—getting to the green threads.

  Is this long-shot something I’m willing to risk my life on?

  I pause the train of thought, nibbling on my thumbnail.

  The question is the wrong one.

  Am I willing to become what this society demands of me?

  With a sigh, I think of sex with anyone who asks and killing teenagers with reckless abandon.

  Things I’ll never do.

  I clench my jaw and make my choice.

  If I’m going to die, I’m going to die as me.

  Even though I have no idea of how I’ll win, I know I can’t afford not to try.

  Time to finish everything unfinished from the virtual universe.

  I steel myself for the coming conflict and ask a simple question, “Who am I?”

  The world drops away into blackness.

  Thirty

  Instead of a terrifying descent through a stream of biting data, the map from my last scenario materializes around me.

  As the cold of the sand seeps into my back, I narrow my eyes and glance to the heavens. All is peaceful. The storms and cubes are gone; only the brightness of the full moon interrupts the starless night sky.

  A gust whips past, and the capture flag waves from above.

  I sit up.

  Pristine metallic plants gleam all around. Between curved crests of sand, stacks of wood rest above depressions dotting the terrain, waiting to be lit. Beyond the river, the green threads glow from the next island.

  An insurmountable trek away.

  The bloodied, contorted bodies are absent.

  I suck down a breath. For this showdown, the map has been restored to its original condition.

  Hollow snickers fill the air.

  Furious, I stand and scream at the shadows, “Come out, I know you’re here.”

  Wood ignites, and orange bonfires flare over the island and into the distance.

  Ten paces away, dark tendrils of mist gather. My heart thumps as the oily bands coalesce into Syd. Unlike the map, his condition—fatal neck wound, sliced eye, and scarred black armor—is the same as from the scenario. His head angles, and the familiar corner-eyed stare bores through me. “You shouldn’t have come b
ack.”

  I grit my teeth. “You aren’t Syd.”

  The plain lips twist into a coy smile. “No.”

  “You’re the control mechanism?”

  Moonlight glitters off silvery material as the black armor turns into ten-sigma battle-mesh. A booming voice pounds into my ears, “I’m everything you should be.”

  My legs wobble, and I sink to my knees from dizziness.

  The control mechanism steps forward, casting a long shadow over me. “I tried to scare you away, but now you’ve gone and asked the wrong question.”

  I tilt my head and glare at the inky form outlined against the bright circle of the moon.

  “Your proper question isn’t ‘Who am I?’ It’s ‘Who do I need to be?’”

  “I’ve gone through too much to be afraid of you.”

  “The program has gone through too much to allow you to revert to what you were. Mary is weak and unfit.”

  I shove my hands against the ground and pop to my feet. “I will get my past back.”

  Syd morphs into the bald giant, and his beady eyes lock onto my gaze. “I am everything you dread because I am everything to make you into what you need to be.” He flicks his fingers. “Time for you to leave.”

  Angry rumbles crisscross the map, and the orange specks of the bonfires rise in the distance.

  As the donut shaped-wave approaches, I fight my trembling fear and meet the glare of my nemesis.

  The staredown continues while the roar of roiling land and water nears, building to a thunderous crescendo. When the rising wall covers the sky, readying to slam me into a million pieces, my heart skips a beat.

  I hold my breath, clenching my jaw, and focus on getting back to my husband.

  The crash doesn’t disappoint. Everything—water, plants, bonfires, sand—blasts into my face. The ground rockets from beneath my feet, and a deafening peal wallops my ears.

  My eyes shut from the fury.

  After a tense moment, the clamor subsides.

  I crack open my eyelids.

  All is as it was.

  Defiantly, I say, “I’m not afraid of anything you can do.”

  The bald giant advances, sneering. “You’ll submit, or you’ll die here.”

  I blow out an impatient breath. “Let’s just finish this.”

  His beady eyes narrow with hatred, and suddenly, I’m craning my head as his gigantic hands rise high into the sky. “I’ll kill you.”