Selena

by V Guy

  “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” he asked, his expression softening.

  Sofia nodded and bit her lip.

  “Because of Dr. Jekyll?”

  She nodded again.

  “How did you feel about the attack at Bedele that rescued you? Lots of people died there.”

  The woman said nothing, hugging herself tightly.

  “Did you think you were rescued only to be killed?”

  Sofia shrugged.

  “Then we’re done,” said Malik, releasing a sigh. “I’m tired. I’ll make you forget without your help, and you’ll awaken at home, no memories to haunt you.”

  “Wait!” she said, emerging from her withdrawal to make a cautioning gesture. “You’ve got to find who did this.”

  “We’ve got to find,” he corrected. “Am I to force you, like your captor?”

  A look of terror touched her face. “The people on that ship?”

  “Were like the people working at Bedele. Not directly guilty, like the owner, Rosin Sharp, or the director, Jarvis Jenson, but indirectly guilty, letting the crimes continue for the sole purpose of receiving a paycheck. Those girls’ freedom came at a price. Your freedom came at a price.”

  Sofia screwed her lips in indecision.

  “My best and only human friend was stolen and taken to Bedele Creative,” said Malik, his maw hardening in anger. “They took an intelligent, expressive, beautiful, and independent woman and turned her into a man-dependent plaything. She will die a confusing and painful death after five years. I would kill everyone who let that happen.”

  This revelation broke her paralysis. “I’m afraid. Will this hurt?”

  He shook his head. “Follow my lead. You will feel pressure to either advance or retreat in time. It will be my direction, but you’ll be the mind who actually does the moving.”

  Sofia bit her lip, then nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “Think of the table and your friends.” The image returned. “Now focus.”

  Her frozen view encompassed a small arc of sight, but the visible portion cleared remarkably. She made a small cry of surprise.

  “Back, slowly.”

  Sofia fought to relinquish her willpower. The more she followed his lead, the more the effort became like a dance, their minds working in harmony. The scene shifted with the movements of her eyes; sounds and aromas she had long ago dismissed returned. She thought to linger over them, but his impetus was to continue moving. The view transitioned back through time. The moment she entered showed, her earlier entry followed, the walk down the street with her friends came next, and their shared ride in the taxi lastly appeared. Malik stopped the recall when they entered the craft.

  Sofia gasped in fatigue.

  “I’m sorry,” said Malik, seeing her duress. “We can take this in smaller pieces.”

  “Just give me a moment.” She breathed deeply to recover.

  He momentarily touched her with new strength, and she straightened in surprise.

  “Then I guess I’m ready,” said Sofia, narrowing an eye. “Let’s try again.”

  The memories advanced. Confidence fueled strength, and she persisted through six more sessions of recall. The effort ended with her arrival at Bedele.

  “That’s all I need,” he said. “You can relax.”

  Images, aromas, and sounds emerged from a blue sphere in his grip. Music in the taxi, raindrops hitting the pavement, sirens in the distance, the aroma of pastries, and the vision of bugs circling streetlights became acutely tangible.

  Sofia’s mouth dropped open; she stared around her. “Astonishing!”

  He made a slight smile. The progression stopped when her friends left to dance. Two guys and a man sat down in their place.

  “Expensive watch, manicured hands, pristine hair, and tailored clothing,” said Malik, examining him. “He had money.”

  She nodded, recalling the moment. “Cute, too, but he was too polished for my taste.”

  A short trip back in time revealed an interesting coincidence. Malik marked the location then traveled forward and back to confirm the observation. “His companions weren’t relaxing before meeting your friends. They were sitting near him, watching the room. They were protection.”

  Movement forward revealed her conversation with the man and her eventual drugging. The images clouded and became impossible to clarify, but an astounding revelation was noted: the bartender opened a door to a back room for the man.

  The images turned opaque before going black. A foggy awakening followed. Malik frowned. “You were raped. I can sense your physical discomfort.”

  His earlier evaluation of the bodyguards, along with the presence of similar men appearing later, singled them as the people who carried her blindfolded, gagged, and restrained out the club’s backdoor. Seat quality, vehicle noises, and ambient aromas suggested transport in the man’s private vehicle, while the feel of a good mattress, high quality sheets, and fine fragrances supported her confinement in an expensive room. The mystery man took her to a privately chartered spacecraft for transit to Bedele during the next day. No visual clues established the ship’s name or type, but performance cues let Malik establish restrictions on its class. He returned to their encounter at the table.

  “He was rich,” he repeated. “Most offenders of this type will take advantage of a woman for a night, some will find a handy slave trade to which to sell her, but a man like him…you bruised his ego. He decided to own you for life, just to spite you. Someone with that capacity and arrogance must show somewhere in the network.”

  Twenty minutes of searching through news, business, and entertainment publications revealed a name.

  “William Westland,” said Malik, nodding with satisfaction as he produced an image. “I believe this is your affluent man. He lives locally, and the club is under his ownership.”

  Sofia was stunned by the level of detail contained within her mind, and the revelation of her abductor left her mind spinning. She stared at the haughty visage smiling confidently back at her; her thoughts turned dark. “Where would I find this guy?”

  14: Healing

  Day 684: Evaline, Pathfinder

  Newday morning delivered Malik to a new day of surreptitious interviews at various locations. Evelyn, Makaha, and Arturo began the morning with a plan, spending the first thirty minutes of work removing extraneous nerves from the Fates. Initial scans of their first three patients kicked them into high gear.

  The Fates’ parasitic implants grew at less than three-hundredths of a percent per day, presumably due to a secreted, self-inhibiting chemical. The young twins’ implants grew at a magnitude higher but still manageable rate. The first of the other women’s implants grew multiple times faster than theirs and were considerably problematic. Evelyn immediately recruited Helen, Borislav, and Bomani. Consultations with Ileana produced a new, round-the-clock schedule for the rescued slaves.

  Malik was greeted with a host of weary eyes when he returned from his interviews.

  “We have a serious problem,” said Evelyn, meeting him at the hatch. Her fallen shoulders, slumped back, and drooping eyelids punctuated her frustration. “Our new passengers will take far longer than expected to fix.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’ve been observing though the link. Twenty-four work-hours will be insufficient. Unfortunately, neither will the seventy-two work-hours you wisely scheduled. We need at least eighty-eight.”

  “That’s impossible,” she said, looking even more haggard. “That would require twenty-nine-hour workdays without breaks.”

  He moved past her. “I’ll clear the other infirmary beds. The operatives will go to the brig, the Fates will go to the infirmary tables, and the three freed tables will be available. You’ve already harnessed more help; you’ll need every bit of the space.”

  “But eighty-eight hours? We can barely manage seventy-two! We’ve already started rotating sleep schedules for us, the afflicted slaves, and the help. Scheduling rest, eating, exercise, and t
ime to unwind has been a near futility.”

  “These are massive debts, and we’re making minimal payments,” said Malik, stopping in the galley. “We don’t have twenty years.”

  She scowled. “They aren’t vehicle or home loans.”

  “The principle is similar. We need a method to accelerate the process.”

  Ileana, Arturo, and Jenna entered the galley.

  “This schedule could kill us,” said Evelyn, her visage one of misery. “You know how difficult the substrate was. This could be horrifically worse.”

  Malik moved a meal from the cooler to the warmer. “The twins are released products. Somewhere in their discharge sequence the implants’ growth was permanently retarded. I’ll examine the captured minds and files from Bedele this week.”

  “They might break before then,” said Ileana, looking at Evelyn in concern. She was equally weary. “This is an enormous task.”

  “No one will falter,” said Malik. “All of you matter more than a project.”

  Evelyn groaned. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’ll stand over patients all day. Maybe you had something else in mind?”

  “I do.” He looked at Ileana. “Do you have a partial interface handy?”

  The woman opened her pack and yielded the device. “Ready for your first session.”

  “Put this on,” he said, extending the device to Evelyn.

  She scowled. “Bedele Creative conditioning isn’t my problem.”

  “The burden of removing implants is. Set it on your head and activate it.”

  Evelyn hesitantly took the object. “What will you do?”

  Malik made an exasperated sigh. “Just do it.”

  She placed the device on her head. “Ready.”

  “Now relax,” he said, closing his eyes.

  Evelyn was thoroughly fatigued, and this obedience came easy. She closed her eyes and relaxed, but her body remained steady—she was kept vertical by an external control.

  Malik’s head swayed as her breathing evened, a tune formed on his lips, and his body smoothly moved toward hers until her form was within reach. His right foreclaw rose to lightly stroke her right arm, moved to the left to engage the other arm, then dropped to the legs to do the same with them. Her hips were next, where he paused at the joints. The gallery lights dimmed.

  Evelyn’s breathing noticeably eased. The initiates and Arturo were enraptured. Malik’s tune gained complexity.

  A small movement took his appendage to her abdomen, where it remained motionless above her core. After an extended deliberation, the foreclaw shifted to her chest, to her right and left shoulders, and then to her neck. The song became louder and more complex when he let his claws embrace the side of her head, lingering until the noted trailed off to a soft finale.

  “Evelyn,” he said firmly.

  Her eyes snapped open and she straightened, rolling her shoulders and neck. The fatigue once etched upon her face and frame was absent, and she gazed at him in awed wonder. Her mouth dropped open. “What did you do?”

  He gently smiled. “I can’t have you doing an impossible task without assistance. Come every evening for a recharge.”

  “A recharge?” asked Evelyn, dumbfounded. “I was near collapse. What’d you do?”

  “Just combinations of things I already knew. I could feel and sense everyone’s fatigue when we were stuck in the substrate after Dakota. Unfortunately, I didn’t discover a method to strengthen you beyond simply demanding rest. Our current predicament implies that even reasonable rest will likely be insufficient—something greater was needed. A method had already been designed. I physically performed the task your body should’ve done with a full night’s rest, restoring your muscles, easing tension, and reducing inflammation due to overuse. As for your brain, similar byproducts and wear were also present. Nerves have been rejuvenated, and neurological pathways were refreshed.”

  “How? You had no instruments.”

  “I learned. Remember Harris?”

  She frowned in thought. “My mood is completely different.”

  “Your mind was a different matter,” said Malik, easing the interface from her head. “Repetition and fatigue have a way of settling into a person’s mindset, and stress hinders the thinking processes. I’ve been preparing for a host of troubled minds, was already familiar with your thought patterns, and basically cleaned house, taking out a toilsome day’s trash.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “I am grateful, but we still need to know why the twins are different.”

  He grunted. “I was too generous. Who’s next?”

  Arturo followed Evelyn. His fatigue was less apparent, yet his relief was unmistakable. Ileana approached Malik with a near reverence and was notably affected by his restoring touch. Jenna was wide-eyed and speechless. She stood aside after contact, showing an obvious and disturbing deference.

  A weariness touched Malik upon seeing their expressions, and he paused over his meal. “I can’t have people fainting before the job’s done. Let me tend the infirmary workers. Arturo, inform Borislav of my intentions.”

  Malik met the next commando outside the infirmary after ministering to Helen, Bomani, and Makaha within the chamber. The men were durable and strong yet quite willing to experience rejuvenation. For the workers soon to rest, Malik left them sufficient fatigue to make sleep satisfying. The others, whose impromptu midday sleep would leave them wanting during the night, received full restoration.

  Evelyn and Arturo left him after he went to the medical bay, where Ileana, Jenna, and another initiate awaited. The latter woman’s new reverence was indicative of foreknowledge.

  Malik was uneasy with their new attitudes. The newer women initially held an appropriate wait-and-see attitude, viewing him guardedly until he showed his true colors. Now they gazed at him with almost absolute faith. Initially wary but now unusually focused upon him, the initiates were compliant and willing, a most troubling combination; he wished to excise the excess of these traits.

  Still, he knew extra trust would help them endure the coming months. Unearned trust could help them encourage others.

  One session followed the next until six of the women had met with him. Strengthening sessions for three of the five initiates not requiring the previous sessions followed these. The last of the women left his company immediately before Ileana returned. She entered with her portable device in hand.

  The CSA operatives had been moved to secure stations in storage hold two, leaving Malik’s quarters adorned with only a sleeping mat, a chair for the patients, and the crystal tree on the shelves. Initiates normally settled into the seat for their sessions, but now his self-appointed personnel manager was present for an entirely different reason.

  “Did you need more time?” Malik asked Ileana.

  “I have questions.”

  He had risen in the hopes for an end to his day but now settled back. Evaline’s days were a little over twenty-six hours long, he had been speaking to law enforcement since early morning, the initiate sessions added another six hours, and the strengthening sessions added another hour and a half. He was tired; he nodded for her to continue.

  “I was wondering if we could ease up on the intense schedule. It’s tough on everyone and difficult to plan.”

  “You got everyone here today.”

  She groaned. “Maria, Nina, and Jenna are helping. Is there any flexibility?”

  “Every initiate must get their hours,” said Malik. “But their time can be split throughout the day. Just remember; I’m in sessions with six different initiates every night. They can’t be in two places at once.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter when they’re with you?”

  He shook his head. “Keep Evelyn informed. The initiates must maintain their sessions with me and stay faithful to their days. Two different groups meet with me three times a week, while two others meet with me twice. It allows them rest days. There is a plan, and I can show you it to you.”

  “The eight-e
ight hours?”

  “We need measurable progress with everyone, meaning every day we must overcome implant growth and back it up a day. Otherwise we’d be pointlessly wasting our time and wearing everyone out.”

  She examined her schedule. “What about cutting the initiates with lesser implant growth? That would make shorter days; we could address them later.”

  Malik frowned. “I’d rather not, but it is possible. Hours will be cut as progress is made; I anticipate dropping three hours this week if projections hold.”

  Ileana made a note on her device. “Implant removal, conditioning-reversal sessions, and strengthening sessions. What else will there be?”

  “Nerve trimming, sessions to help them deal with the excess nerves, then fertility restoration. There’s plenty ahead of us you shouldn’t worry about.”

  “Plenty,” she said, making a snort. “There’s plenty now. All these women want simulator and gym time. Even the crew must schedule with me.”

  Ileana powered off the device and set it on her lap. “What’s it like for the initiates?”

  He cocked his head. “The twins remember nothing, the middle-of-the-process initiates struggle with the reality they should be remembering their past, and the early-in-the-process initiates see themselves daily losing their lives. The worst part is forgetting people they know. They’re very frustrated. The enslaving process’s purpose was to make them dependent and needy. It worked. The twins are having a difficult time.”

  “What about the interviews?” she asked. “They have odd expressions on their faces when they leave.”

  “Satisfaction,” said Malik. “And pain. It was used to anchor the conditioning. I’m removing lacquer-like layers of conditioning, and opening the layers means reliving the pain. Some memories, like from the twins, are well buried. Others are seeing memories return. It’s encouraging for them. They’re winning victories after having lost battle after battle in a long war. They receive partial restorations at the end of our sessions.”

  She looked at him and chuckled. “That explains much.”

  Newday evening quickly moved to morning, and Malik was back in Silas for questioning.