The Chaos Sutra

by Gregg Vann

  Tien was trying to keep the body count low as he made his way through the byzantine layout of the complex. He knew that the more guards and operatives who went missing, the more obvious his passage through the Corp’s multi-layered and legendarily robust security framework. But despite Tien’s wishes, there were several instances where that simply hadn’t been possible. And the death toll now stood at five.

  The mission had been quick and calculated so far, just as it should be. But the operation was becoming increasingly perilous as it progressed. The growing danger was inevitable, though, and completely expected as Tien drew closer to his goal. There were a scant number of guards posted this deep into the building, and only minimal patrols, but there were also fewer places for Tien to conceal himself. It was a decent trade-off, for the most part, but it did make the occasional death unavoidable. As Tien continued to move through the main corridor, stealthily sidling down the wall as he listened ahead for soldiers, or late-night workers, he considered the journey he’d taken to get to this far.

  After nightfall, Tien had snuck aboard one of the many passenger ships crisscrossing the lake. He rode the vessel to the very center of the city, where Special Corp headquarters sat in the middle of a heavily fortified compound—equipped with impressively thick walls, and a state-of-the-art security grid that was the envy of every other Udek installation on the planet. At only fifteen stories high, the main building of the Special Corp complex was shorter than most of the surrounding structures. But there was a scattering field in place above the entire facility, so no one could look down into it and spy on the spies. If you wanted the Corp’s secrets, you’d have to go inside the compound to get them. Of course, the odds were against you ever coming back out again. But so far, luck had been on Kiro Tien’s side. Though proper planning and inside information were the more likely reasons he hadn’t been caught…yet.

  Had Tien tried exiting the lake on the cityside embankment when he first arrived on Ko’ln—a more direct route than the way he’d chosen—he would have been spotted immediately, darksuit or no. The entire outer perimeter of Nykor’s island was open parkland, with all of the city’s buildings purposely set back at least fifty meters from the water’s edge. Fortunately, there was a much safer way into the city. And it happened to be more convenient as well.

  The main quay for the endless ferries, transiting to and from the mainland, was constructed right in the heart of Nykor. The sprawling collection of fixed docks and passenger buildings sat at the terminus of a wide channel, dredged straight through the middle of the island. The bustling inland port was also close to Tien’s destination. So in the end, despite the added travel time, the quay marked an easier, if somewhat more roundabout path to Tien’s goal.

  Once he slipped off the ferry, Tien had cautiously made his way through the port’s lightly traveled storage and maintenance areas, skirting around the thick crowds of people milling about the docks. After successfully avoiding that substantial throng of Udek—all waiting their turn to board ferries, or meeting passengers disembarking from newly arrived vessels—the darksuit made getting through the open city at night a simple exercise in patience.

  Tien had adroitly moved through back alley and side-street alike en route to his target, avoiding all of the dense population centers where people liked to congregate. And he’d reached his destination quickly, leaving no trail behind. In fact, there was nothing to mark Tien’s journey through the city, nothing at all. From his initial drop into the lake, to Tien’s arrival at the base of the wall surrounding the Special Corp complex, no one had noticed his presence on Ko’ln.

  Not a single person.

  It was often said that you would have more luck tracking a ghost than a Special Corp operative. The statement was arguably hyperbolic, but there was also an undeniable truth to it. Especially when the agent was as skilled as Kiro Tien, and as thoroughly familiar with their surroundings as he was on this particular mission.

  Scaling the perimeter wall had been child’s play in the android body, and the darksuit prevented the compound's detection grid from picking up any trace of Tien as he moved across the interior grounds. A pair of Udek stationed outside the main building posed more of a problem, however, and they had to be discreetly removed. Afterward, Tien had simply crawled up the side of the structure, just as he’d done on Polit, stopping at the correct floor to cut a hole in one of the non-opening widows. Once inside, he had carefully, lethally, stalked toward his destination. And now, Tien’s goal was in sight; the entryway to the interrogation wing lay directly ahead of him.

  There was only one way in or out of the sealed metal globe where the Corp tortured their prisoners, a four-meter long access tube that also doubled as the mounting point of the giant sphere to the main building. The high-security globe was suspended twelve stories above an open courtyard below, jutting out from the side of the building on its metal stalk like a cancerous tumor. Tien thought the comparison quite apt, considering what was kept inside of it.

  Anyone moving through the sphere’s entry tube had to do so single file, and taller people were forced to stoop as they traveled from the main building to the perfectly shaped globe. There was no structural necessity to the tightly enclosed passageway; the sphere itself was a large, open room, fifteen meters in circumference. But Tien always believed Stenth designed it that way purposely—to give the impression that the world was closing in on his prisoners, and there was no way back out of the sphere alive. For many of them that had proven to be true, including a few at Tien’s own hands.

  But the purpose of the sphere—the truth of what it contained—was far more frightening than anything implied by the design of it. And it was that reality that caused Tien to quicken his pace down the corridor. His prey, and Tien’s primary impetus for being on Ko’ln, Awi Stenth, would most certainly be leading the interrogation himself. So Tien knew that his revenge for the endless attacks against him, including the close call he’d had with the last Special Corp assassin—mere meters from his wife and son—was close at hand. Chancellor Stenth was also responsible for Tien’s forced exile from his home world, and for murdering Dasi, and Tien’s unborn son. His family was resurrected by the Bodhi soon after that cowardly act, but that changed nothing as far as Tien was concerned. He had judged Awi Stenth guilty of his numerous crimes long ago, and now Tien was eager to carry out the sentence—the only punishment even close to balancing out the ledger between the two men.

  Death.

  Tien stepped up to the sphere’s entryway and looked to his left—where the corridor continued on for several meters, before turning sharply to follow the outer wall of the building. Once he confirmed he was alone, Tien activated the pin-laser inside one of his fingers to begin cutting through the security lock. Tien had no doubt that he could defeat the door electronically, and possibly even come up with a still-valid code to gain entry to the short passageway. But unlocking the door would alert those inside the sphere that someone was coming, and Tien wanted to maintain the element of surprise.

  The lock failed as the laser severed the internal power connectors and the door cracked open. Tien pushed his fingers into the small space and started pulling the metal barrier aside—until he could fit his body into the gap. Then he used his improved position to shove the heavy door completely out of the way. It disappeared into its premolded slot in the wall of the building. Tien didn’t hesitate. He crossed the span of the tube with a few long strides, reaching the airlock at the other end in seconds. Then he stepped inside the unlocked chamber and sealed the door behind him.

  The windowless hatch to the sphere lay just before him, and Tien marveled at how successful the mission had been so far. Everything had gone so well, in fact, that he was becoming increasingly preoccupied—no, consumed with the notion that something was wrong. What if Special Corp had taken the prisoners elsewhere? Maybe Awi Stenth had other matters to attend to first, and they’d been thrown into holding cells instead of the sphere. But his concerns quickly vanis
hed when Tien heard loud screams coming from the other side of the door.

  And he knew that he was in the right place.

  “You are wasting your time,” Awi Stenth said calmly. “It won’t work. You aren’t the first Iriq prisoner we’ve had in here, Ayel. You aren’t even the first one this month. Now please, stop, before you break your fingers. The unintended pain might interfere with my plans.”

  Ayel was trying to use her exceptional dexterity to unfasten her restraints. But it was proving impossible. She couldn’t quite twist, stretch, or bend far enough to reach the tiny control panel that would set her free. Ayel frustratedly looked to both sides, where Maxal, Brother Ryll, and Commander Eraz, had all been similarly strapped down, secured to bare metal tables identical to the one she was restrained to.

  The tables were bolted to the floor in a curved row, and there was sufficient room between the platforms for Udek interrogators to move around them freely—from head to toe. No part of a prisoner’s body could escape the less-than-tender ministrations of their tormentors. With a great deal of effort, Ayel lifted her head and spotted four more tables sitting across from them, all empty. They were positioned on the opposite side of the sphere, just beyond a wide glass cylinder that filled the center of the room. Those tables were also equipped with restraint harnesses, and together with the platforms occupied by Ayel and the others, formed a perfect circle around the outer edge of the globe. The sight made the Iriq redouble her efforts to free herself.

  “I said stop it,” Stenth repeated, with a hint of anger in his voice. He walked over to Ayel’s side and pulled the breathing mask away from her face.

  As she gasped for air, choking on the toxic methane atmosphere, Maxal lunged hard against his own restraints. But his heroic efforts were to no avail; the Blenej had been securely bound, just like the others. But they hadn’t gagged him.

  “Leave her alone you sadistic bastard!” Maxal yelled.

  “Relax,” Chancellor Stenth replied. “All of you.” He let the mask fall back over Ayel’s face and she desperately gulped in the air. “I don’t intend to torture you. I was just pointing out the folly of resisting me. Besides, such methods are not only unreliable, but time consuming as well. And time…” Stenth flashed a predatory smile. “Well, time is something I don’t have in abundance. Not with so many unanswered questions loitering about—important questions, that demand truthful answers.” Awi Stenth gestured toward the center of the room at the mysterious glass cylinder. “No, torture just won’t do. But I have something else in mind, something far more effective.”

  Maxal leaned forward as far as he could, trying to glimpse what was hidden behind the thick, gaseous fog filling the cylinder. Peering through the heavy rolling bands of gray and white smoke, twisting up slowly through the large tube, and the intermittent water misting down into it from the ceiling, Maxal thought he saw some type of plant. But he couldn’t be sure.

  The cylinder ran seamlessly from the floor to the ceiling, and there were electronic connectors snaking out from one side of it—attached to a large video screen positioned nearby. Maxal could just make out some of the readings displayed on it. He saw temperature and humidity levels—presumably from inside the cylinder—and a few other minor environmental conditions that appeared to fluctuate. But there was other information listed on the screen as well—and a lot of it. Things the Blenej couldn’t decipher.

  “Just get on with it, Stenth,” Eraz remarked. “Your showmanship is tiring.”

  “No, Commander Eraz. The introduction is part of the process; you know that. It heightens the experience for the participant.”

  Stenth strolled over to the large display connected to the cylinder, carefully avoiding a few cables stretched across the ground nearby. He regarded the information on the screen for a long moment. And then, pleased with what he saw, Stenth tapped in a series of commands. Brother Ryll joined the others in trying to see what the Udek spymaster was up to.

  The smoke and vapor were instantly sucked out of the cylinder, disappearing into the ceiling to reveal a gigantic, translucent plant. It stood nearly three meters tall and was half that in circumference, and bore a thick trunk not unlike a tree. But instead of solid wood with fibrous cross-sections, this trunk was gelatinous, and only semi-rigid. Thick roots extended out from the base of the plant to anchor it to an uneven layer of yellow soil, spread across the entire floor of the habitat. Some of the roots curled to hug the glass as they reached the thick walls of the cylinder, while others turned back on themselves, coiling up into bulbous masses that appeared to slowly expand and contract.

  Instead of branches, the plant had rope-like appendages, whipping through the air in every direction. And when the smoke cleared out some of them began violently slapping up against the walls of the cylinder, smearing the glass with pulpy, red and violet globules. To Brother Ryll, the extensions reminded him more of tentacles than tree limbs. And as his gaze shifted back to the plant’s trunk again he saw what appeared to be internal organs, spaced throughout its bulk. Pinkish, blood-like fluid slowly pulsed through large veins and arteries, branching out to every part of the plant.

  No, Ryll thought to himself. Not blood-like.

  It is blood.

  “What is that thing?” Brother Ryll asked, his voice cracking.

  The monk looked down at the floor of the habitat and noticed two desiccated corpses—empty shells of creatures Ryll didn’t recognize, partially crushed into the mustard-colored dirt. His fear spiked as Stenth confirmed what Ryll had already deduced for himself.

  “It feeds on animals,” the chancellor said gleefully. “Any kind of animal.” Awi Stenth had sensed Ryll’s discomfort—expected it—and now he intended to capitalize on that burgeoning sense of dread.

  Maxal and Ayel joined Brother Ryll in staring at the plant. Contemplating its grotesque nature, and the possible implications for their immediate future. For her part, Commander Eraz was doing her best to appear completely disinterested.

  “We discovered this plant on Hyer when we first colonized the planet,” Stenth explained. “It was everywhere, and we lost a good many soldiers eradicating the species. As you are no doubt aware, there are very few planets with atmospheres similar to our own. So we undertook every effort imaginable to make Hyer a habitable world for us. And it was an effort, but one that eventually met with success. This particular specimen was brought back to Ko’ln for study, and our scientists made a remarkable discovery. The plant has a nascent cerebral cortex, complete with strong empathic abilities. Some of our researchers even believed that, left unmolested, it might have eventually developed sentience. But that won’t happen now, of course, because this plant is the very last of its kind. The important thing for all of you to understand is the nature of the empathic link. The plant can sense its victim’s fear and stress as it feeds on them. And ultimately, that’s why we’re here right now, inside this sphere.”

  Maxal and Ayel shared an anxious look, while Brother Ryll’s face lost all color. Commander Eraz was still ignoring Awi Stenth altogether, determined not to give him any satisfaction this time around. She knew what would happen next, and Eraz had been preparing herself for this moment ever since they left the spaceport.

  “The plant is hematophagous,” Stenth continued, “and it only feeds on the blood of its victims. It doesn’t care a wit about the actual flesh. But here is the interesting part: once it latches on with one of its tentacles, the plant partially relies on the prey’s own heart to circulate the blood back through its trunk system, pumping it all the way to the plant’s internal organs for direct absorption. If the victim’s heart stops prematurely, and the quarry dies too fast, the plant loses potential nutrients. So it constantly monitors its prey’s mind with its empathic abilities.

  “When stress levels rise and the heart overexerts itself, bringing the victim closer to death, the plant reduces the rate of bloodletting to compensate, relieving a modicum of physical and mental pressure from its prey. It then continuou
sly adjusts the flow of blood in this manner until the victim is completely drained, even pushing nutrient-depleted fluids back into the prey’s body to maintain an adequate hydraulic balance throughout the process. It’s quite fascinating, really. The plant lacks any true consciousness, of course, and everything it experiences is at a basic and primal level. But it is remarkably attuned to the body’s unspoken language.”

  Maxal made a renewed effort to free himself, struggling wildly against the straps. But despite his immense and enviable will, it was no use. “When I get out of here, I’ll—”

  Stenth cut him off. “You’ll do nothing, Blenej. Nothing at all…except tell me what I want to know. Do you see the sensors I’ve placed inside the habitat? And those cables spooling out from the side of the cylinder, attached to some of the plant’s roots? It all works in concert to monitor the plant’s drain rate, among other things. As it takes your blood I’ll be asking you questions. And if you lie to me, your stress levels will rise. The plant will respond by decreasing the drain slightly to compensate. Not enough to save you, of course, it’ll only end up prolonging the agony. But the change, however minor, will tell me that you’re lying. If you reply truthfully the flow will remain steady, and the ordeal should end much more quickly. So please, for your own sake, don’t bother trying to deceive me. It’s pointless.

  “The plant’s empathic link is far more sensitive than any machine, and capable of detecting even half-truths and omissions. Nothing escapes its notice. Over the years, I’ve used it on each of the galaxy’s known species—countless times—and that breadth of experience has allowed me to attune the monitoring sensors to 100% accuracy. Well…for every species except the Brenin, I should admit. The plant didn’t like them at all. Just remember, lying to me will result in a slow, painful, and inevitable death. And if that’s what you want, fine. I can tolerate some attrition; there are more than enough of you here to get the answers I require. But consider this: the plant’s feeding drain, while unpleasant, is certainly survivable. If you cooperate. Just ask Commander Eraz, here. Though I’m not sure she’s the best example of cooperation.”