by S. A. Tholin
"What about pharmaceuticals? Awareness of the priming renders it ineffectual. This mental block can be broken too. Maybe in the right frame of mind, you'll be able to break free."
"I have no euphoriants on me, only stims. I can try, but it'd be better if the medic was up here." Juneau glanced towards the stairs anxiously. More gunfire echoed in the distance. "It'd be better if they were all up here. It'd be easier to concentrate if I didn't have to worry about watching my back."
"I've got your back." Joy drew her Morrigan and moved to stand guard at the stairwell. That people didn't like Juneau was no surprise, but sometimes an unlikable surface obscured a lovable deep. Whether that was true of Juneau remained to be seen, but Joy intended to give them both the chance to find out.
"Can't hurt, I suppose," Juneau sniffed. "Mercy, how was Hammersmith intending on doing this without me and the banneret men? The four of you wouldn't have lasted long on your own."
"We had a strike team, but Captain Lutzen and his men were killed in action a few months back."
"Lutzen?" Juneau gave her a strange look.
"Yes, Lutzen, the poor old fool." Wideawake entered the lab, carelessly dropping a folder on the floor. "Dead because Hammersmith made a mistake. You're not wrong to worry about his impatience, Major. Somerset might tell you he's got a cool head on his shoulders, but she hasn't known him as long as I have. Cool, yes, to a point – and then he'll do something rash, and when it goes badly, he loses his composure and makes more mistakes. Lutzen and his team were far from the only ones to suffer. Hammersmith's decision caused a chain reaction of pain and death that hasn't yet reached its climax. But he still survives, oh yes, he always does. Lives with the regrets, but doesn't learn from them."
"He got us here," Joy said. "He fought an impossible war for decades, and now he might have his victory. I doubt that would have happened if he wasn't capable of perceiving with clarity."
"How kind you are, Somerset; how willing to see the best in people, even if you have to look hard to find it. A rare quality in a towerman. I hope your compassion will survive your service."
"Compassion?" Juneau scowled at Joy. "It's fear of conflict. She is 36B's honey, here to sweeten the bitter truth. She'd prefer it if everyone would just get along, and so she smoothes ruffled feathers and soothes roiling waters. Just like the people who created the Prime Mover, I imagine."
"Don't compare me to them."
"Don't point your gun at me."
"I'm not," Joy protested, looking down at her hands to make certain that she wasn't.
Juneau seemed afraid, which made no sense at all. Elsinore was silver-eyed and far away. Wideawake was smiling, which made even less sense than Juneau's fear. In the tank behind him, the Prime Mover stirred in waters that were no longer crystalline blue, but murky with sediment. Something was wrong, but how could she pinpoint the problem in a place where nothing was really right?
"Commander, do you read? Rhys? Hammersmith?"
No response. The team channel was silent, and her texts went undelivered.
"I've scoured the station's systems," Elsinore said, "but I haven't found what's keeping our comms down. But that'll be all it is, Somerset. If something had happened to the team, we'd have heard it. I may not know much about soldiers either, but I do know that banneret men don't go down quietly. They–"
A shrill wailing burst from the ceiling-mounted speakers. Another alarm, louder and more insistent than the first.
"What is that? I–" Joy paused as Juneau shoved past her, heading downstairs in a hurry. "Major? Where are you going?"
Juneau neither stopped nor replied, and Joy hesitated. Should she follow?
"Mercy," Elsinore moaned, pressing his hands to his ears. A thin line of blood trickled from his nostril. "These systems are so archaic. I don't... I don't know what that is, and stars, when Hammersmith comes back... if I made a mistake again, I..."
"Relax." Joy holstered her Morrigan. Approaching Elsinore made her uncomfortable, touching his hand even more so. His skin was hot. He regarded her through long eyelashes, and though she couldn't tell what he was thinking, she could see that he stood on some sort of mental precipice. Once more choosing his path, once more about to make a mistake, perhaps, but she wouldn't let him, not with Constant's life and the lives of the team at stake. "You can do it. I saw a couple of folders in the back labelled Security. Maybe something in there will help. You just go slow and try to figure things out, and I'll go fetch them. Okay?"
He nodded, and that would have to do. She glanced over her shoulder at Wideawake.
"Please go see where the major's gone off to. We can't risk her running into trouble, and we need her up here."
"She doesn't need to be here to think, nor for her scripts to do their work." Wideawake shrugged. "To be frank, it might be easier for us to do our work if she's not here."
"I suppose going thirty seconds without being insulted might be helpful," Joy said, although she really thought that somebody should go check. Juneau might get lost, or worse.
"She only hurts you because she's jealous, Joy; because she knows she can never be like you."
The words alone might have gone by her, but the accent that had crept into his voice, those now-dead Kirkclair vowels, held all the charge of a lightning strike. Self-preservation whispered for her to act casual and pretend she hadn't noticed, but it wasn't so easy to ignore the twisted echo of her brother's voice.
Lost for words, she could only stare at Wideawake. He'd smile, he would, she was sure of it, and tell her that it was just one of his awful jokes; that he was Wideawake, towerman and coffee drinker; Wideawake, remorseful father and patient teacher; Wideawake, who wore Oryx sweatshirts to work despite Hammersmith's disapproval; Wideawake, who had made an effort to save lives at Fox Chapel Pharmaceuticals and had done so all for her.
And he did smile, a crooked and familiar smile, shaking his head.
"Here I was, bragging to the major about my multi-tasking skills not fifteen minutes ago. Well, you'll have to forgive me, Joy. I am quite busy."
"Wideawake," she said, although she knew that was not his name. Her hand, trembling, went to her Morrigan. He was armed too, but she was faster, and Constant would understand even if Hammersmith didn't.
The smiling thief didn't go for his gun. He went for Elsinore.
63.
JOY
"Step aside, Elsinore." She couldn't take the shot even if she wanted to. The tank was behind Skald/Wideawake, Elsinore in front of him, and the Morrigan would eat through them and the Prime Mover. The thief would have to be taken alive. Her free hand found the shackles inside her belt pouch, and she threw them to Elsinore. "Cuff Wideawake. He's compromised."
"What?" Her interpreter, blinking silver from his eyes, didn't even try to catch the cuffs. They clattered to the floor. "Somerset, what are you doing?"
"It's the mission," Skald said. "The pressure's got to her. She thinks I'm one of the entity's vessels. Like the commander, she sees demons everywhere."
"I see you for what you are. I should have seen it sooner."
"Calm down, Somerset, and watch where you point that gun." Elsinore looked afraid – of her – and how ridiculous that was. "I understand, all right? You know I do. When things get difficult, your thoughts get all tangled up and you don't know right from wrong. It's not your fault. But trust me, he's not a vessel."
"Careful," Skald murmured in his ear, "or she'll suspect you next."
"Shut up." Joy lowered her gun slightly to put Elsinore at ease. "Put the cuffs on him. I won't do a thing to hurt him until the others return, I promise. Let Hammersmith and Juneau work it out, okay? Just cuff him."
"Don't be ridiculous. I've known Wideawake for years. We've worked together, lived together... stars, Somerset, he got me a toy dog for my ninth birthday. What kind of an alien entity would do that?"
"You've known a thing pretending to be Wideawake. The real Wideawake died long ago. I liked him, Skald," she said, close to tears
. "I liked the man whose personality you stole, whose body you wear. When I destroy you, I'll be doing it for him, too."
"Destroy? So much for not a thing to hurt him."
"Stand down, Somerset," Elsinore said, and he was her superior and that was unmistakably an order, but she couldn't obey.
"No. Cuff him, or I'll have to shoot you both."
"Earth have mercy." He sighed. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."
His eyes flashed silver and her armour crackled with electricity. The charge coursed inwards, running through her body. She wanted to scream but couldn't, falling silently to her knees. Sparks arced between her gauntlets and the floor. As soon as they dissipated, strong hands pulled her wrists behind her back and locked them in her own cuffs.
"Don't worry," Elsinore said. "As soon as the team returns, the medic will see to it that you're thinking straight again. We're doing this for your own safety."
"Elsinore," she cried, struggling as Skald dragged her into the control room. "Elsinore, you can't let him do this. He'll kill us all."
"Don't be silly, Somerset." Skald heaved her onto a sofa and leaned in close. He whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin: "Not all of you."
Then he left, locking the door behind him.
Joy rolled off the sofa, landing badly on her shoulder, but bit the pain down. There was a window in the door, and if she could smash it, then maybe–
Skald glanced over his shoulder and gave her a wink. Then he took the combat knife that he had confiscated from her belt and drove it deep into Elsinore's back.
"For you, little sister."
He pulled out the knife and stabbed Elsinore's side twice. The young interpreter cried out in pain and shock. Blood gushed from the wounds, streaking the floor as Skald shoved him towards the control room door.
"Look at her," he said, forcing Elsinore's face towards the window. "My Joy. My little sister. You were privileged to be bonded with her, and what did you do with that privilege? You hurt her. You tried to kill her. Gods, when I heard about what you did..."
He yanked the knife out from between Elsinore's ribs and sliced the interpreter's cheek open, baring his teeth.
"You filthy animal. I wanted to kill you on the spot. How nice it would have been to feel the heat of vengeance. How nice to finally be rid of you. The universe is connection, Elsinore, and you have none. Born, but never alive, your mind of no value. Your death will not be a waste. It will be a mercy, a righteous pleasure. See what I do for you, little sister." He slashed the knife across Elsinore's forehead. "Your soldier should have done this. What kind of a man wouldn't?"
"Stop it, Skald, please. Leave him alone."
"Did he leave you alone? When you were far from those who love you, where the Cascade's walls glowed with heat and the flashlights of guards swept across the darkness? Think back, little sister, to when this coward hurt you. Remember his hands around your neck. Remember the glint in his eyes and his body against yours, and you tell me again that you want me to stop."
"I do." She hadn't forgotten, but Elsinore had never hurt her as badly as the thing holding a knife to his throat, and for Elsinore, there might still be redemption. For Skald, there was none. Constant had been right to hunt him so fiercely. Every vessel was a living lie, a broken trust, a violation in progress.
"Little sister. So sweet and kind." Skald shrugged and dropped Elsinore on the floor. "He might have preferred the mercy of a quick death. Instead, you may watch him suffer the long path. Perhaps..." His eyes twinkled with dark amusement. "Perhaps that is what you wanted all along. Perhaps even kindness can be cruel."
"You should know. Kindness is your cruellest weapon."
"But Wideawake wasn't so kind to you, was he? I could have made you like me more. I could have made you love me. I could have brought you things you like and told you stories to interest you. Oh, it was difficult not to – but if I had tried to make you love me, I could not have stopped. I would have gone too far, and you would have known me for what I am. So you need not feel blind for not seeing. I tried very hard to remain invisible."
"I see you now."
"You do. A good thing, I think. It's nice to have a moment to speak with you alone."
"A moment is all it will be. Cassimer will kill you."
"Not if Hammersmith has taken care of the banneret men. Such a mistrustful man, our colonel. I barely needed to so much as whisper in his ear. A gentle nudge was all it took to set his mind on getting rid of them. Maybe he'll succeed... maybe he won't. The thing is, little sister, it doesn't matter." He leaned close to the window, his breath misting the glass. "We're well past the point of too late."
It wasn't true; it couldn't be. Constant would return any second now. She glanced towards the stairwell beyond Skald. Still empty, but it wouldn't stay like that forever. Juneau would come back, or Hammersmith – anyone at all would do. All she needed was time.
"How does it work? You were Wideawake in Room 36B. You were yourself with Memory Black. And you were others too, I'm sure, elsewhere."
"Strange question. If I asked how your mind works, would you know the answer? I am, little sister, that is all. I have so many memories and personalities to play with, so many notes to sing. You say you liked Wideawake, but the one who once inhabited this body did not like coffee, and the one who did would never have worn sweatshirts. They're new songs, composed from my collected notes, and they play even when I am not watching. I can be everywhere or simply here, or in the nothingness. It's very liberating, Joy. Don't you feel smothered inside that flesh cage of yours?"
"I'd rather be smothered than have my mind massacred by you."
"Oh, I wouldn't touch your mind. I'll leave that intact, little sister. The prettiest of pearls." He grinned and, almost nonchalantly, brought his foot down on one of Elsinore's twitching hands. The interpreter groaned with pain. "Still alive? Then you might like to know that I have given dozens of children identical toy dogs over the years. All my towermen run the same personality pattern. Nobody has ever noticed, even though my vessels have mutual acquaintances."
"You have other towermen?"
"When I woke my first wave, I travelled the galaxy to find a safe haven. I saw many worlds and nations, and in the Primaterre Protectorate, I found opportunity; my best chance to be free. But the Protectorate is closely guarded, and if you are not Primaterre from birth, then you will likely never be. You were lucky, little sister. It took me a great deal more effort, but in the end, Tower was my way in. They are always on the lookout for assets, and unlike Bastion, they are not so concerned with purity or pedigree."
"Face-changers and liars," she whispered. "You're the perfect towerman."
"I have enjoyed the work," he said.
"You would. You're a coward, hiding in the shadows. You've lived thousands of lives, and each one has only made you more afraid of risk."
"Of course, little sister. Every pain suffered, every death endured, remains with me forever – and still I died to keep you safe. I bled out on the floor next to Memory. The last thing I saw through that vessel's eyes was my bright-winged acolytes avenging me. I see it still, feel it still, but it was worth it for the chance to stand here with you, and now that I have seen this beautiful thing they call the Prime Mover, I know that it was all worth it." He placed his fingertips against the window. "And though you talk only in hopes that your soldier might return, I am willing to take that risk. He wouldn't make it quick, not like last time. He has killed me so often that I can sense how it will come. A knife, I think, but not in front of you. He will take me down one of the hallways, far from your eyes, and make my death last."
"You're wrong. He's not a monster."
"You may know his heart, little sister, but I know his wrath."
And still he was willing to risk it. It didn't make sense. He could flee, or kill her and Elsinore and blame the Hierochloe guards. He had a dozen ways out, and yet he wasn't moving. He just stood there, smiling, his face ghostly blue in the light
of the tank – as though he thought he could win with the press of a button.
"The possession trigger signal won't work. The signal blocker–"
"Oh, I disabled that remotely as soon as I saw the Prime Mover. The block on the woman soldier first, to see what would happen, and then the rest. Even yours, Joy. The priming is in full effect, the signals reaching you all. I assume that's why none of you can harm the Prime Mover – a nice bonus. If it makes you feel better, the possession signal is protected by security systems that are very difficult to bypass. No matter. I will figure it out eventually, and then we will have some fun. Scathach Station first, where that murderous child Lucklaw will get his due. He killed me ten thousand times. In return, ten thousand will kill him."
Eventually. But he didn't have eventually, he had to know that. The others could return any second and all his plans would be for nothing.
"And then the banneret men. I will enjoy the look on the commander's face when his men turn on him. Though I might let the woman soldier live – it would be interesting to see how she compares to her sister." Smiling, he approached the tank to place his hands against the glass. The Prime Mover's tendrils swayed towards him, silvery threads moving through water that had been blue but was now murky.
Oh God. Murky, because the tank had a hatch that allowed nutrients to be added to the water. Nutrients, or lichen – and even if Cassimer returned to put a bullet in this vessel, it would make no difference. They couldn't touch the Prime Mover. Skald's lichen would have free reign inside the tank, inside its mind – if it had such a thing – and through it, access to the minds of every Primaterre citizen.
The cuffs were tight around her wrists. The door was locked and didn't budge when she threw herself against it. Comms were down and every text still disappeared into a void. Skald tapped a screen and she had no idea what he was doing, no idea if Scathach had been turned into a slaughterhouse or if Constant was reliving the Hecate.
