The Girls from Alcyone 2: The Machines of Bellatrix

by Cary Caffrey

  If Suko saw the looks the other girls shot her way, she didn't show it. She walked straight down the hill, through the Academy grounds and the cluster of small bungalows, not stopping until she arrived back at their home.

  She paused at the door, her hand on the handle. No. This wasn't her home anymore. It could never be. Not anymore. Sigrid was gone. She had lost her. She had no home.

  Her hand gripped the knob so hard it snapped off. Suko threw it to the ground in disgust, then kicked the door open. It swung open with such force as to slam into the wall, threatening to come off its hinges.

  It was quiet inside. Dark. Lifeless. Of course it was. Suko cursed.

  An empty equipment bag sat on a shelf. Suko grabbed it and began collecting her gear and equipment. She paused by the shirasaya. Two Kimuran blades sat on the wooden mounts, but the space above them sat empty. The katana, given to her by Sigrid, was, of course, gone.

  Suko grabbed the blade below it, thrusting it roughly into the bag along with the remainder of her grenades, a spare eSMG and one of Sigrid's old Markov sidearms. The equipment bag bulged, and she couldn't get the thing closed. But it didn't matter. She hefted it over her shoulder, turned, and stormed toward the door only to be stopped dead in her tracks.

  Lady Hitomi was there, her wheelchair blocking the doorway.

  "I would welcome you home," Hitomi said, "but I see you're already planning to leave us."

  Suko didn't answer. She moved for the door, but Hitomi pivoted her chair.

  "I know how dear she is to you, Suko."

  Suko paused, her chest rising and falling quickly. It didn't escape her that their matriarch had never before used her first name in addressing her.

  "She is very dear to me, as well," Hitomi said at last. "More than you can ever know."

  "If you don't move that chair out of my way, I'll move it myself."

  Hitomi bowed her head and shifted her chair to the side. "I'm not here to stop you. I'm here to help you."

  "With all due respect, Mistress, I think I've had just about all the help I can take."

  "None of us could have stopped her, Suko. Sigrid was only doing what she thought she had to. She did it for all of us. And for you."

  "I don't care. Not about you, not about any of them. This is your fault. You did this to her. You put these thoughts in her head."

  "You're right."

  Suko stepped back; the duffle dropped from her hand to land on the floor beside her. She'd expected the woman to argue, deny, or at least make some excuse. But she hadn't.

  "I made a terrible mistake," Hitomi said. "I knew that from the very moment I met Sigrid. I had no right to involve any of you in this."

  Hitomi glanced down at the metal braces that bound her legs, the cane that rested on her lap—eternal reminders of her disability, her failure. "You and I aren't so different, you know. I was very much like you at your age, with a few…minor differences."

  "You can't compare—"

  "You're not the only one to lose something dear to you, Suko. Something very precious was taken from me once. I didn't forgive myself then. I know I can't ask for your forgiveness now."

  "What…what did they take?"

  "I was young—a little younger than you are now. When they came, there was nothing I could do. I couldn't stop them then, just as I failed to stop them now."

  "Tell me," Suko said. "Tell me what you lost."

  Hitomi shook her head. "It was a long time ago. What's done is done."

  "Tell me!"

  "Everything, Suko. My father. My family. My home. They came, and they destroyed everything. They did so for the simple reason that they knew they could. I told myself I would not allow that to happen, never again. I thought I could change that, with the help of women like you, like your sisters. Like Sigrid. I thought I could change things for all of us. But sometimes, even when we act with the best of intentions, things can become twisted in ways we never imagined. I never intended it to come to this, Suko. But you're right. This—Sigrid—all of this, it is all my fault."

  "Then why did you do it, Hitomi? Why make us at all?"

  "Because I thought you could do what I could not. I thought you could make a difference."

  Suko bent and retrieved the dropped duffle. "I'm sorry things didn't work out the way you hoped. I really am. But I only ever cared about one thing. And now she's gone."

  Suko squeezed past her in the doorway.

  "I believe I know why he wants her, Suko. I know what this has all been about."

  Suko stopped cold. Slowly, she turned back to face her. Hitomi held out a small data-cube in her hand. She tossed it to her now. Suko caught it, turning it over in her fingers.

  "That man," Hitomi said, "Harry Jones—"

  "He's dead. Sigrid killed him."

  "And yet they still went to great lengths to take her."

  Suko stared at the cube in her hands, then back at Lady Hitomi. "What are you saying?"

  "He had a wife, Suko. And she is very ill."

  Suko's fist closed around the cube.

  "Where?"

  "She's on Earth. And I believe I know where."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Rebelle

  Date: Unknown

  Location: Unknown

  Sigrid woke. Lights shone down from above. They were painfully bright and bore deep into her skull. Her optics made the adjustment, but it was slow, sluggish. Every bone in her body ached. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Sigrid tried to access her PCM, calling for a diagnostic. No response. No access.

  She tried to move, tried to sit up, but her hands, her feet, even her waist was bound, strapped to a metal gurney, cold against her flesh. Sigrid jerked her head to the side, trying to better see where she was, but even her head was bound, more metal straps holding her forehead in place.

  She was in a room, blindingly white, the tiled surfaces spotless, the stench of cleansers harsh in her nose. Her clothes were gone. And she felt…cold. Sigrid trembled. She hadn't felt such cold in years.

  There was a noise to her side. Sigrid strained to see, but she could see nothing. But there was someone there. She could hear her breathing.

  "You're awake."

  The speaker stepped forward, her face looming over her, staring down.

  Sigrid didn't know her. She was an older woman. Her long hair still showed signs of its once vibrant brown.

  "Do you know me?" the woman asked. "Do you remember?"

  Sigrid tried to shake her head, but of course, she couldn't, bound as it was. "No, I've never seen you before."

  Sigrid saw the look of disappointment on the woman's face; the greeting smile turned to a frown. "Yes, you always say that. Perhaps one day you'll remember. I'm told you will, in time. Although…it does give me the opportunity to thank you again."

  "Thank me? For what? What are you talking about?"

  The woman leaned closer. "For my life, Ms. Novak. For my freedom. I can't thank you enough. Though, since you never seem to remember, it appears I will be able to keep on thanking you. Fitting, for one who is eternally grateful."

  Sigrid strained against the bindings. She didn't have a clue who this woman was or what she was on about.

  The smile returned to the woman's face; the look wasn't without its warmth or affection, but Sigrid knew, this was the smile of a master looking fondly upon a pet.

  "My name is Emily, by the way. Emily Gillings-Jones. Though, I suppose you'll forget that too."

  Jones.

  "You… You're his wife—the chairman's sister."

  "Yes."

  Sigrid turned her eyes away, staring upward. It was all bitterly clear to her.

  "Then this—capturing me—it's all for revenge. For killing your husband."

  The woman laughed. "Hardly, dear. I'm not interested in revenge."

  Sigrid felt her heart beat faster. "Why? What do you mean?"

  "Because, dear, no one has died."

  Sigrid heard the words—it was impossible. "Yo
u're lying. He's dead. I killed him."

  "Killing?" a male voice said from the doorway. "What's all this about killing?"

  She knew that voice. Eerily familiar, etched in her brain. She strained, but couldn't see. She didn't have to. She knew exactly who it was.

  Harry Jones came to stand at his wife's side.

  "Good morning, Ms. Novak. A pleasure to see you, as always."

  "You’re dead!" Sigrid spat. "I killed you. I saw you burn."

  Harry Jones raised a thin eyebrow. "Yes, you do always say that."

  "She still doesn't remember," Emily Gillings-Jones said at his side.

  "Unfortunate. I'll let the doctors know."

  Sigrid's eyes shot back and forth between them. "What are you talking about? I remember everything."

  "No," Harry Jones said, "you don't. Not yet. It is a…side effect."

  "What—what have you done to me?"

  "Nothing you need concern yourself with, Ms. Novak. Nothing permanent. I didn't go through all this trouble to harm you."

  "I know what you want. You want New Alcyone. You want Andraste. You want my sisters. I won't give them to you!"

  Even as Sigrid said it, she knew how foolish it was. They had her—and they'd had her for some time. Whatever information they wanted, they'd have it by now. Sigrid clamped her eyes shut. This time she had truly failed, and her friends would pay for that failure with their lives. Jones—the Independents—they would have her sisters, use them, just as they did those girls on Bellatrix, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

  "I'll kill you," Sigrid said. "Somehow. I swear. If you harm them—"

  "I promise you, I have no designs on your, er, sisters. Nor your home. As for Project Andraste, yes, I am very grateful for the information you provided. And for the services you've performed. You have helped us in ways we could never imagine. I can't begin to tell you what an asset you've been, Ms. Novak." His eyes fell to his wife at his side. "I owe you a great deal. More than you can possibly know."

  Sigrid felt the tear escape, course down her cheek. "Then let me go."

  "Nothing would make me happier. I did not bring you here to make you a prisoner."

  Sigrid pulled again at the restraints. "Then what would you call this?"

  "A precaution."

  Sigrid slumped back against the gurney; she felt strangely weak from the effort, dizzy.

  "You should kill me," Sigrid said.

  "And why is that?"

  "Because if you don't, I will most certainly kill you."

  "I think we've all had enough talk of killing. We have much work to do, Ms. Novak. I'm afraid I still require your help."

  "Help you?" Sigrid barked a laugh. He was mad. "I saw what you did to those girls on Bellatrix. I'll never help you. I'll kill you first. You're a monster!"

  "All men are monsters in the eyes of those who fear them. Even you, Ms. Novak. Do you know what they call you? They call you the Ghost." Harry Jones leaned closer. "They call you a witch…amongst other things. Your own mistress, for example. The Iron Matron. How do you suppose she got that name?"

  "You know nothing of Lady Hitomi. She cares for her people."

  "Yet there are those who would call her a monster, just the same."

  Harry Jones moved closer; Sigrid wanted nothing more than to reach out, wrap her hands around that thin neck, choke the life out of those grey eyes. Yet she couldn't. She was helpless.

  "No, you're not a monster," Sigrid said. "You're worse! You took those girls. You stripped them of everything, everything that was human. And the ones that didn't satisfy you, you left them to die."

  Harry Jones pressed his thin lips together. "No one regrets what happened to them more than I do. But no, Ms. Novak, I did not take them. It was they who came to me. Quite willingly, too."

  Sigrid gaped back at him. "You expect me to believe—"

  "That they volunteered? Yes, Ms. Novak, they did. Each and every one of them. And for every girl that we turned away, there were thousands more ready to take their place."

  "I—I don't believe you!"

  "Why? Is it really so hard to believe they volunteered? They did so because they believed, Ms. Novak. They believed that they had no other choice. They believed that the world they lived in was so unjust, so devoid of hope that they were willing to risk their own lives to change it. They believed, Ms. Novak, just as I do. Just as I know you do. Those girls wanted to make a difference. I gave them that opportunity. Just as I gave you that opportunity. Just as I will give it to you again, now."

  Harry Jones raised his hand. Sigrid saw the small device held there, heard the click as his thumb depressed a button. The binding on her left wrist shot open. Sigrid's arm was free.

  Her hand lashed out, grasping at the man she was so desperate to kill—the man who remained a centimeter out of her reach.

  "Perhaps if you came closer…" Sigrid said, "we could discuss your offer further."

  Harry Jones pressed the device again. Sigrid's arm snapped back in place, the metal restraints coiling about her wrist, pinning her down.

  Jones moved closer, looming over her. "Progress, Ms. Novak. Yesterday you actually grabbed me. It took four of my men to restrain you. By tomorrow, we may actually shake hands."

  Yesterday? Sigrid had no memory. It was a lie. It had to be. If only she could access her PCM, verify. But there was nothing. Only darkness.

  Even without her sensor nodes activated, Sigrid knew Harry Jones was mad. He was delusional. He had to be if he thought she'd help him willingly.

  "The chairman was right," Sigrid said. "You're nothing more than a terrorist. You're trying to start a war."

  "Start a war?" Harry bounced lightly on his heels, as if considering the declaration. "Why, Ms. Novak, that war began long ago, and with very little help from me. My role was merely to…speed it along. In good conscience, I could not allow corporatocracy to persist. But I am glad to say, the Federation is gone. The corporatocracy is no more."

  "Gone…?" Sigrid stared up at him. "What—what are you talking about?"

  Emily Gillings-Jones leaned over, blinking down at her. "Every empire must fall, Ms. Novak. My husband has seen to that."

  "You—you can't expect me to believe… The Council—"

  "Gone," Harry Jones said. "Finished. Thanks to you. You took care of them. Quite handily, too. You've done a great service, Ms. Novak. You've given hope to billions where before there was none. Without you, none of this would have been possible."

  "I would never help you!"

  "And yet you did."

  Sigrid struggled against her bindings, desperate to free herself. "No, it’s not true. You programmed me. Just like the girls on Scorpii."

  "I needed your cooperation, not your servitude. Of course, you did require some convincing. But far less than any of us imagined."

  This had to be some sort of trick. A lie. It couldn't possibly be true. None of it. Sigrid called frantically to her Control Module, but there was nothing. She was alone.

  "I—I don't believe you. Not any of this."

  "Yet that doesn't change the fact. The Federation is gone. It's over, Ms. Novak. We've won."

  Sigrid turned away and clamped her eyes shut. She couldn't bear to look at that grey face, hear any more of his lies. "Then you don't need me."

  "Oh, but I do. I'm afraid our work has only just begun. Many lives still hang in the balance. I can't do this without you."

  Sigrid opened her eyes, blinking back the tears. Harry Jones produced something from his pocket, something horrible, something that terrified her. He turned it over in his hand, revealing it to her. It was a tiny thing, square and metallic. It was a data-uplink module, much like what Dr. Garrett had used on her.

  Harry Jones hit the actuator; the six-centimeter-long probe shot out with a sharp snap.

  Sigrid recoiled, but the bindings held her fast.

  "You never did like this part," Harry Jones said. "I keep hoping one of these years it will become unn
ecessary, but until that time comes…"

  Sigrid heard the word; it echoed in her head.

  "Years?"

  "Yes. Didn't I mention that? My apologies. You've been with us for quite some time."

  Years…?

  Sigrid felt her stomach heave, the bile rising in her throat; her heart thudded against her chest, threatening to explode. When Sigrid threw up, Emily Gillings-Jones tended to her dutifully, cleaning and wiping her face and her lips, brushing her hair back. The act of kindness only made Sigrid's head spin that much more.

  Years… It was impossible. It couldn't be.

  "No… No, I don't remember."

  "You will," Harry Jones said.

  Harry Jones stepped closer.

  "Please. Don't—don't do this."

  "I'm sorry, Ms. Novak. But I'm afraid I have no choice."

  Harry Jones leaned forward. Sigrid strained against the bindings, pulled with all her strength, felt the metal cut into her flesh. She might have screamed, she wasn't sure. The needlelike probe brushed against her neck, penetrated, entered her. Blackness loomed, covering everything.

  "No…"

  "Here, now," Harry Jones said, pushing the probe fully in. "You're going to feel a little pinch."

  End