The Owners

by Tara Basi

  “We’ll find Tress and bring her back. We’ve done it before. Your whole race will pay for what the Blocks have done to us.”

  How extraordinary. The little animal was threatening not just him but all Vigilance. Their whole Empire. He found himself admiring its audacity if not its infinite stupidity. Harder wasn’t going to enter into a discussion with the livestock. The Tress creature stepped forward and stood in front of Harder waving the others away.

  “Regulation awaits,” Harder announced to the animals and left with the terrorist.

  He admired the stoic determination of the skinny female: there were no histrionics and no tears. It was a brave show, unlike the dirt coloured female who had wailed so much under the factory. But then Tress had no idea what awaited her.

  Harder knew. Enduring Rung One was an integral part of progress in the Inquisitor ranks. A single sequence produced a Defender. He and his troops had all been subject to the torture that awaited Tress. Two sequences of Rung One produced a Captain and four a Sector Commander. The pain was horrendous. Harder had taken the medical advice and wiped the memory of every sequence endured as his career progressed. Only an Inquisitor Prime endured twenty-one sequences and was required to retain the memories, hopefully without dissolving into idiocy once it was over. The clever rebirth fluid kept you maliciously sane whilst you endured.

  Back on the Cruel-to-Be-Cruel, two Defenders stripped the sad little creature of its rags revealing a torso covered in hideous scars. Judging by her body Tress probably thought she knew what pain was. Or maybe they weren’t developed enough to experience pain? If it were true that would be a shame. In any event, after each cycle she would be fully restored, back to her prime. All her scars, new and old, would be gone. Leaving a pristine blank canvas for the little slicing and dicing machines to work on during the next session.

  One of the eight globes hidden in the ceiling of the large and otherwise bare room descended to the floor. Harder watched without expression as the shivering wretch was placed inside and the globe began to fill with fluid. As expected she struggled and tried to smash her way out, thinking she was being drowned. The skinny animal soon discovered it could breathe the liquid. Later, Harder knew she would give anything to have suffocated.

  The poor savage had guts; she was handling it better than many a Defender. The globe disappeared into the ceiling, with Tress’s eyes wildly darting around the room looking for escape or some explanation of what was happening to her. Harder decided to return later and watch over her first rebirth as a sign of respect. The terrorist’s eternal punishment was a meagre crumb of Retribution, but better than a bloodless ending.

  Harder’s mind returned to Eva’s prophecies. Emperor Harder. The history of the early days of the secular Empire, whilst forbidden, had many lessons of value. The military led, the bureaucracy governed and the Priests knew their place. Best of all there was no HIQ. The Inquisitors had always abstained from it, along with the majority of the general population. Only the Priests clung to its so called powers and risked their brains. Eva’s prophecy saw a return of the old order with him at its head. And it appeared he had the savages and the Three to thank though how it could possibly come to pass still eluded him. Eva was unlikely to tell him more. First things first: he had to become Inquisitor Prime Harder. And that meant he would see the globe again. He shuddered. Inquisitor Prime. It would be worth undergoing the Rung again. Twenty-one Rung One sequences would be a hell beyond all words, yet it was twenty- one. It was finite, and he would bare it.

  Harder returned to Truculent and Eva in the Crimson Factory to report on Tress’s fate.

  “The first sequence has commenced. As a combatant, the only one, I shall return and bear witness to her resurrection. Then Tress will be left to her lonely agonies for all time.”

  Truculent screwed up his face. It was the same expression Harder had seen when they’d first encountered Tress and he’d proposed a Rung One punishment. The High Priest really didn’t like thinking about that particular penalty. Best he behave himself then, Harder thought.

  “Good, we can leave,” said Truculent. “There’s much to be done.”

  “Will a viable population remain?” Eva asked.

  Harder found it difficult not to stare at the woman. The mighty warrior was clothed in golden armour and laden with blades as though ready to begin another training session soon.

  “The janitors have packed the Crimson factory with as many natives as possible but, yes, of course,” said Truculent. “We can’t risk not having an alternative source if something should happen to the factory population.”

  It hadn’t been discussed but Harder was glad that he and Truculent were thinking along the same lines, despite the latter’s HIQ addiction. It was impossible to say what line Eva’s mind was following. Every time she opened her mouth something surprising emerged.

  “Good. I’m leaving,” Eva announced. “I’ll take your barge Truculent. Don’t impede or try to follow me. You’ll never see me again.”

  Truculent look horrified. Harder didn’t know how to react.

  “But… the birthing, the Three?” Truculent exclaimed.

  “The birthing must continue. The Tuned in stasis is active. Release it when the Channels are ripe.”

  Truculent’s panic evaporated, “Must you leave? I still have questions.”

  Harder wanted to echo that sentiment, but he guessed Eva would be no more interested in his questions than Truculent’s.

  “The barge. Now,” Eva growled.

  “Fine. It’ll be prepared. I have personal items to collect, and of course my command console. They must be removed first.”

  “Before I leave I shall accompany Harder to witness Tress’s first resurrection,” said Eva. “Have your barge ready for me immediately after that. Now I must kill.”

  Eva turned and left, heading towards the pens. Harder was taken aback at how quickly events were moving. He was tempted to follow Eva and watch her amazing display for a last time. Instead Truculent beckoned him to stay.

  “Janitors will see to the removal of my effects to accommodation here, in the factory.”

  Harder was surprised, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable on the Cruel-to-Be- Cruel? This is a very old factory.”

  “I thought you had upgraded the factory with Emperor-class defences?”

  “Of course High Priest, though its internal workings are still very primitive.”

  “No matter. I want to personally oversee the production of the Three.”

  “As you wish.” It did make sense.

  “Eva has my body and my barge. I don’t trust her. Have a very discrete tracker placed on the barge. It shouldn’t activate immediately. Maybe in a cycle or two, so she won’t find it if she scans now.”

  Harder was not surprised by Truculent’s request, he would have suggested it himself. What startled him was the High Priest’s assertion that Eva’s body was his property. Where was her own body then? And who had occupied the wonderful, ever so familiar, battle hardened body before? Harder would save his questions for another time. He would be seeing Eva in the Rung One chamber, maybe she would be a little more talkative.

  Truculent continued, as though he had guessed that Harder’s curiosity had been pricked, “I know, it’s all very mysterious and I have no proper answers when it comes to Eva. Courtesy of a HIQ revelation, the drug you so disdain, I have uncovered something quite funny.”

  Harder had little faith in anything HIQ revealed but he would humour Truculent, “High Priest?”

  “Haven’t you wondered why the terrorist’s created the formula in the first place?”

  Harder had not wondered at all. The creatures of this planet defecated, masticated and procreated in a myriad of disgusting ways. Their reasoning processes were likely as warped as their bodily functions. Harder thought it more politic to lie. “I have wondered High Priest.”

  “It’s a poison, and deadly to their kind. Tippese had the idea of injecting some of the creatures
with the formula to see if it would improve the Crimson. They dropped dead.” Truculent snapped his fingers. “Don’t you see? They thought we drank Crimson. It was meant as a bio-weapon.”

  Harder had to laugh along with Truculent. It was an imbecilic idea. And yet, their moronic actions had produced a Three. The little knowledge the livestock thought they had was no knowledge at all.

  Harder and Eva watched Tress’s first resurrection in silence. The battle maiden made it clear that she had no intention of communicating with him. Shortly after watching the horror of Tress’s reassembly and reawakening, she boarded Truculent’s stripped-down barge and immediately headed through the Travel-Way. As Truculent had ordered, the tracker wouldn’t activate for quite a while. Harder had no idea where Eva had gone. He realised he would miss her.

  Chapter 14 – Bearing Gifts

  Mina, Battery Boy, Stuff, Jugger, and an overripe Pinkie gathered on the brow of a low hill overlooking the blasted plain where their lives had unexpectedly intersected. At their backs familiar snowy mountains poked impertinently at a glorious cerulean sky. Directly ahead, Block Seven sat in its customary place, dominating the landscape.

  Mina stared at the ugly vastness with nervous scepticism. Yet, unbelievably and as Truculent had promised, Block Seven visibly started rising, its huge bulk lifting smoothly, at first almost imperceptibly, then gently accelerating skyward. As if in slow motion the vast edifice smashed through its own halo of thunderously dark clouds, ripping them apart. Only finally disappearing above the chaotic chocolate-white whirl after long minutes of measured ascent. Its departure left behind a legion of thunderous tornadoes ripping up the disfigured plain with its exposed city-sized matrix of pits.

  Pinkie and Stuff hooted with joy and shook clenched fists at the vanishing Block and were almost bowled over by the winds its departure had whipped up. The youngsters struggled to keep their balance as a silent, bone-felt growl rumbled the dirt beneath their feet. It was as if the Earth was reasserting itself, unexpectedly freed from the Block’s weight.

  Mina stayed squatting on the grass with a scarf around her face as protection against the swirling dust. She found she could not be happy. An unknown number of people were leaving with the Block. Truculent had ignored her attempts to contact him. The only person who would speak to her was Tippese and he made her feel physically sick. Ominously, all he would cheerfully tell her in his sing-song voice was not to worry, everybody was fine, everything was back to normal. He did not know or would not tell her anything about Tress.

  Mina looked over towards Battery Boy and Jugger standing separately, a few metres to her left. Their blank, narrow eyed, pursed lip expressions were easy enough to read; she felt the same. It was a small victory and it had cost a lot. The weather was getting worse and there was a real danger of being trapped on the ground if they did not leave now. She called everyone back to the shuttle. The autopilot struggled with the intense buffeting from the edges of the immense and strengthening storm gathering in the space the Block had vacated. A lethal troupe of horrendous tornadoes were ripping up the ground, sucking giant boulders high into the sky like misshapen balloons.

  Mina turned her gaze away from the others and her back on the devastation. She stared fixedly ahead at the clear sky, the gentle undulating landscape passing beneath, and let the tears silently rain down.

  Hours later the Statue of Liberty sprang into view, and within moments of the sighting the shuttle was hurtling along a skyscraper ravine towards the Park.

  Back underground they gathered to find out if Truculent had told the truth about Reference and the rest of the Blocks.

  “I saw it leave, fantastic sight,” said Anton from the view screen. “The Block and some other huge ships vanished through a gigantic new gateway about an hour ago.” Despite his enthusiasm his crumpled up face that always reminded Mina of a crushed brown paper bag, still looked sad.

  “Trinity, can you contact Reference?” Mina asked, praying there would be no surprises.

  “I am connected; it suggests communicating through me. It’ll be more efficient,” Trinity answered.

  “How many are left?” Mina asked, wanting to get the worst over with.

  “Maybe we should discuss that alone,” Nurse Trinity suggested.

  “Listen little robot, just start talking,” Battery Boy said, his face dark with sadness and anger.

  “It’s not good news, there’s a lot to explain. You need to hear it all, and to try and stay calm, at least till I’ve finished.” Trinity’s voice was uncharacteristically flat and sombre.

  Mina felt faint; she leant on a desk and then slumped into a seat and stared at her hands and their shredded fingernails.

  “How bad can it be?” Stuff asked, looking nervously around the room. No one answered; everyone took a seat and waited.

  “Reference does not appear to be hiding anything. It will allow the Blocks to be used for reconstruction purposes. There’s almost nothing the Blocks can’t build if we can supply the specifications. The Blocks are capable of gathering the necessary resources, here on Earth or out in the Solar System. It won’t make weapons.”

  “That’s the good news, right?” Jugger growled from the back of the room.

  “Yes,” Trinity replied, and then paused as though struggling to find the words.

  “Just tell us, get it over with,” Mina whispered without looking up.

  “If we assume Tracy was right, there were thirteen billion in the Blocks. It seems Truculent took four billion with him in Block Seven, his Crimson factory.”

  “Four? Four… alright. That still leaves nine,” Mina whispered, breathing heavily, trying to keep control.

  “There are billions in the remaining Blocks. Unfortunately, most are in a catatonic state. They’ve been too long in places like the Yard, they’re brain-dead and now all Block production has stopped Reference is letting them die. It’s a blessing.”

  “How many are left… alive?” Mina asked, her breathing getting more ragged.

  “Approximately fifty million.”

  Mina couldn’t react, she sat quite still while her mind whirled in a loop of simple arithmetic trying to make the numbers add up differently. The digits buzzed around inside her head like bloated flies. She didn’t remember blacking out or falling off her chair.

  “Are you alright?” Jugger was standing over her, gently picking her up and putting her back in her seat. A frightened looking Stuff handed her a trembling glass of water. Mina felt very cold and dizzy.

  “I’m alright. It’s… a shock. I’m okay. We need to focus on the living, keep strong… for Tress. We have to keep strong,” Mina said, willing herself to concentrate on the millions who had survived and forget the billions who hadn't.

  “I’d happily trade billions of brain-dead nobodies for Tress, you sold her cheap,” Battery Boy said angrily, banging his fists on the table.

  “I, we… have to save… who we can. Never give up, right?” Mina whispered.

  Battery Boy stood and walked over to Mina. She looked up at him through dripping eyes. Her lips were trembling uncontrollably. She knew he was right. Truculent had cheated them all. Battery Boy’s eyes were ablaze with fury and his hands were balled into tight fists. Mina thought it would be a relief if he struck her. It would be a small atonement for all her failures. Battery Boy just kept staring at her till the anger in his eyes evaporated. He hung his head and seemed unable to move or speak. He shook himself out of his paralysis and something in his demeanour changed.

  He crouched, hugged Mina gently and whispered, “It wasn’t your fault. Tress wants us to keep fighting. You’re right, we’ll never give up. We’ll get them out.” For a moment the two of them rocked back and forth. No one spoke, the room was quiet.

  “You can’t save them. But I can.”

  “Who-?” Everyone turned around, looking for the source of the strange voice.

  Eva had appeared out of a bubble at the front of the conference room. Draped over one of her mas
sive shoulders was a comparatively small, naked figure dripping a sticky clear liquid. The brutal looking woman was dressed in a black catsuit that showed off every one of her intimidating muscles. The midnight covering completely enclosed her head, leaving only a narrow open strip to reveal her freezing blue eyes.

  “A token of good faith,” Eva added, slipping a limp and unmoving Tress off her shoulder and onto the floor. Jugger moved quickly to put himself between Eva and Pinkie. Everyone else was frozen in surprise.

  “Tress has experienced three Rung One sequences. Before she regains consciousness you should purge her memories of everything after Harder took her. If your technology can’t do that it would be kinder to execute her while she’s still unconscious.” Eva was standing quite still. She put her hands behind her back, possibly trying to look less threatening but barely succeeding. “After you’ve seen to her we need to talk.”

  Battery Boy and Mina almost fell over each other rushing to gather Tress up and take her limp wet body to the medical centre. The others flew out of the conference room after Mina and Battery Boy, ignoring Eva for now, more concerned about Tress. And, no one wanted to share the confined space with the dangerous looking alien.

  “If you let her wake up with her new memories she’ll go mad, if she’s lucky,” Eva bellowed after them.

  Mina struggled to keep up with Battery Boy, even though he was carrying Tress as he raced down the underground corridors. Jugger lingered at the rear making certain Eva wasn’t following.

  Battery Boy got to the medical tube and gently laid out Tress’s naked body. Perplexingly the tube reported that Tress was in perfect health. Apart from being unconscious she looked like a vibrant young twenty-something should look. Her terrible scars were gone, and her skin glowed with vitality. Tress was beautiful.