by I. Christie
"Bloody Moon! Alan!" Talk about walking into a bloody mess! I'm gone for seven years and I walk into this? What has been happening around here? Is this why Hadrie wanted to see me? Gawds, as if the nightmares aren't enough. "Wait a moment! A metradame?!" she shook her head confused. "Me? You have got to be kidding. Those are…glorified sex toys! They're not real." A shudder shook her frame at the thought.
"You have been misinformed. Metrapeople are ninety-nine point nine percent people that have had a behavior modification chip implanted, face changed and personalities wiped. They are remodeled to fit in a place their new owners have for them for the rest of their unnatural lives."
Guardian flashed Harriet pictures of many different faces. Some looked familiar but the pictures were going too fast for her to consciously identify them. What little she knew of metrapeople, she could not remember anything that mentioned they were - recycled people. A small residue of her dream resurfaced, and in response, her insides became cold.
"It is not something you would find in their advertisements," Guardian continued, "but two life insurance companies are behind the body collecting. They say they are using the bodies for medical research. The people who donate their bodies for the large refunds, do it to give their beneficiary a chance to start a new life after their supposed death. They may hesitate if they knew that they were still alive. Since it is aimed at low income people, they have little if any resources to investigate if they did suspect something was amiss."
"That can't be! The Scientist Union and the Science Academy would prevent something like that from happening," Harriet insisted stubbornly. A memory of her and Sharon signing a life insurance policy had her feeling a little uncertain. Harriet shook her head impatiently. She was getting paranoid with this new information. "It's not ethical or moral, any more than slavery is. Slavery is certainly not necessary in Collective and Committee space…even the new settlements have rules for the use of people against their wills and selling people." Harriet felt overwhelmed. "What proof of this do you have?" she demanded.
"There is a lot of information on the subject. If you wish, I will give your room console access into my library and you can research it for yourself."
"Yes. I would like that." Hadrie would hit the ceiling if he heard of something like this to say nothing of the Collective. How could something like this not be known? "You said various occupations?" The sudden thought that maybe Spinner's crew were drones occurred to her. That would explain their low functioning. "I find it difficult to believe the Spinner's Tale's crew has the intelligence to be involved in a smuggling operation."
"There is a suspicion that there has been a subtle form of manipulation going on with the Spinner's crew. We are working on uncovering just what it is. You appear to be unaffected, so perhaps it is not in the air or the food." Guardian waited a moment for a comment, and getting only a deeper frown on his recruit, continued. "Because of the customer base of the metrapeople business and the security around the business of producing them, we are having to move slowly with our investigation."
"Our?" It finally dawned on her that he had been eluding there being more than just he and Maud.
"Yes. I am part of an organization called Neboths Vine. I'm sure you have heard of them. They work to change the mindset of the…"
"Yes, yes. Hadrie once told me about them. Really unrealistic. If these misbehaving committee members do not have the incentive to become morally upright in their representation of their constituents the Vines peaceful conversion of them is not going to work."
"Unless we catch them in the act, red-handed, so-to-speak."
Lt. Montran cast back into her memory for the understanding of what red handed meant. Ah, caught in the act of slaughtering someone else's cattle. Ugh!
"So, you catch them bidding…on forbidden goods in this auction…then what? The committee has too many members that have been reluctant to censure their own, either through coercion or through lack of interest. They won't point fingers…and since you're into these euphuisms, remember 'for the one that is pointed forward, there are three pointing back'...give or take a digit or two." Oh, gawds! I'm getting loose-witted again. "None of them wish to have their businesses aired or want to risk suspicion of wrong doing."
"Yes, yes. Very good. I have not heard that euphuism for a while. It is not just the members who will see the auction and who is bidding….it will be telecast to major stations, reaching every planet that receives transmissions from the INet Corporation."
"Ah, a public outcry," she returned in a cynical tone. "Well, that will certainly get them to resign if not arrested. That particular public sin does carry punishment even for a Committee member; however, the Committee's Judicial System usually dishes out the punishment for a Committee member, as I'm sure you know. What if some of those that are the offenders hold positions on that board, which I'm sure they would have put themselves in that position for this very reason…and therefore will vote on their own sentencing…What then?"
"There is an understanding between the Committee and the Collective that when it is business concerning the closed planets, planets whose population is too violent to be allowed to travel in space…the Counsel of Rings will judge the case. Over half of the occupants in those cages are from closed planets. That is what makes the price for them higher."
Harriet started to laugh. "Well, the purchaser is going to have to hide them in a closet because someone that sees them will eventually guess they come from a planet that is a nonmember of either the Committee or Collective." She shook her head not believing it would happen. "Okay. So, they transmit, and before they ship out the captives to their new owners, I create diversions while Maud releases them. Did I leave anything out?"
"That is the plan, unless you have an alternate. I will monitor the whereabouts of Sheila, Lord Chaney and the Black Rose and keep you posted of any other danger heading your way." There was a slight pause, "As I've said earlier, Lord Chaney deems you a high level threat, not believing you're dead, and has given orders to his smugglers and the Spartans to take you alive; however, in my recent monitoring of communications, I'm not certain of the Black Rose or the other Spartans of just what they will do should they find you. There is this code of membership where they meter out justice to 'their own' and I do believe they consider you still as part of their membership."
What 'code of membership'? She sat quietly as she thought of what this would mean in the plan to ruffle feathers among the smugglers and their cohorts. And, what would keep a bodyguard off balance, since she was an unknown threat. It would help if she knew what Guardian had done for the last two years to have kept them contained in that small part of the city. Since Maud was still alive and running around, she guessed it was a plan that should not be abandoned.
"In addition to the layout of New Century City and pertinent information on the personnel over there, I'd like to know how you've been handling them since their occupation, as well as how they've been reacting to whatever you have done, or Maud. I also want to get something understood here. If I think I'm in danger...I'm getting the Helgas Bloody Moon out of there. I'm not a suicidal type these days, nor a hero. I'm agreeing to go on over there and stir the pot because if you and Maud have been doing it for two years and she's still around, as well as you, you must have an advantage."
"Yes. The advantage is knowledge of the outpost and having equipment that takes advantage of the planet's own chemistry. I have a subliminal of the information you need to know. Charles can escort you to the underground rail car when you are ready, located on the fifth level in this compound. That will take you to New Century City station where Maude will meet you. Now, my profiles, you will find, are quite detailed and precise," Guardian added when she said nothing.
"I guess after two years of studying them, you would..." her voice trailed off as again she wondered why the smugglers were staying here for two years. It did not fit their MO, if they were the same group. But then, her quarters was something she would
find difficult to give up if she did not have to pay for it.
"It is quite amusing to…play with them. I have had suggestions from various behavioral scientists to run tests on their reactions to different stress situations and stimuli…"
Lt. Montran waved her hands, "Wait a moment here! They are study subjects?! Isn't that a bit…unethical?" She rose from her chair suddenly feeling like she had been sold on a mission that had more going on than what Guardian had told her. Perhaps she was a bit too trusting...again. Was the admiral really going to be notified? She should demand to speak to her in person.
"It is dishonest for them to use my facilities when I have not invited them and for what they are using it for. This is a scientific outpost even without the plethora of scientists once residing here…"
"What do the scientists that have you running these tests say?" she interrupted.
"They do not know where these tests are being conducted. There are some experiments where the identity of the test subjects is never divulged so that the behavior is observed without ethnic or species prejudice coloring the recorders observations and conclusions."
"Blazes! I'm not going to be part of this game th…"
"Of course you are, just by you being here!" he interrupted her soothingly. "You are really rescuing those people in the cages, and this really is a smugglers' den, and Maud really does need assistance. With these infidels in New Century City I am simply taking advantage of a situation with occasional annoyances presented to them, but it is to make them go away. I do not take lives and I do not use anything that will cause physical pain. Any psychological discomfort is of their own making."
"Infidels...I have not heard that for a while," she responded slowly, wondering if she was in any position to object. Merker's Outpost was out of Collective jurisdiction, so she could not use the argument that due to the activity on the other side of the planet it gave her the authority to…do what? If anything, the Spartans were also law enforcement, and closer to having jurisdiction than she had…however, by what the screens were showing, they were working for the smugglers…
"What is showing on those screens is real time? Actually happening and not staged by you or anyone else?"
"That is true."
So, where did that put her in the decision making process. She actually had no right to demand anything. All she could do was offer to help until real help arrived. "You've been doing this for two years and they are still here; you're not just toying with them, are you?"
"If they do not choose to leave, then they have made the choice to be miserable. However, hiding stolen goods is not the same as auctioning off kidnapped persons or victims of some unethical barter. This moves my need to move them off this planet imperative. After two years of studying them and what they will do under various circumstances, it will be put to good use."
Lt. Montran raised an eyebrow. "When did they change the business?"
"Two stan weeks ago," Guardian told her glumly. "I understand there was a surprise raid at their main base by a special force group, the Tanjmi." Guardian did not miss the young woman sitting forward in her chair and looking triumphant. "Your admiral's special team," he acknowledged. "They are good. There was not even a ripple in the rumor pipeline of the raid so it caught the smugglers unprepared. Only half of the smugglers escaped, and most had spotters on their tails. Lord Chaney is not a happy man nor are his customers. Since this is near a jump gate and a heavily traveled corridor, they were able to elude their tails and eventually landed here, where they already had a small operation going. They need to continue on with this auction to settle the nerves of their suppliers and customers to say nothing of Lord Chaney's stock holders."
Stockholders? I hope he has a list of them because I would like to get a copy of that list.
Guardian gave a slight pause. "Well, I would like to carry on this conversation further, but Maud has sent me a message reminding me not to spend so much time socializing, as there is work to be done. That woman knows me too well." There was an audible sigh. "Make yourself comfortable. I do not use the same technique as the Spartans. Their heavy use of drugs and forcing images is too invasive. My technique is longer lasting and requires only one induction, though slower in making its way to the surface of the mind; therefore, Maud will be making sure you don't shoot yourself in the foot, so-to-speak, until all the information makes its way to your awareness." He laughed at his own joke.
The routine for preparing for subliminals was well known to Lt. Montran and she easily slipped into the necessary beta-state when her eyes closed.
Chapter 5
Delorita was born to a young woman in the House of Jeborhara on Velta V. She was daughter to Yeva, who had been twelve at the inception, and a midwife intern. Delorita's father was the nefarious Lord Chaney of Dlephae who had raped Yeva after she assisted in the delivery of his legal heir, Varina. It was kept secret due to the rune readings by the House Crone that Lady Bedda Chaney would seek out potential usurpers to her daughter's legacy causing them harm. After the assault, Yeva had changed her name to Masha and scrubbed floors in the healer's house never wanting to leave the protective environment of the House or to continue with her lessons in healing. She dedicated her newborn infant daughter to the House of Athena, to avenge her unwilling deflowerment.
Delorita was a loner and a fierce student in the arts of the stealth warrior, the assassin. In Collective space, regardless of the peace initiative the members lived under, there were those that nursed grudges and wanted more power. Some organizations trained their own so that if the need should arise, they were prepared to defend or seek retribution, as it was in the House of Athena. However, the House of Athena trained all her young initiates to the code of the warrior, a high ideal in the art of war, among other skills of life.
Delorita learned her lessons of recompense well, determined to fulfill her mother's expectations of retribution. When Delorita was ten, her mother took to her deathbed and in a profound state of peace, removed the obligation from her young daughter's shoulders, much to everyone's relief. She chose the name Leor to pass through the lighted gate of Amattas, to find peace with her ancestors.
Delorita's second mother who guided her since birth, redirected her volatile energy into athletic training for the Galactic Games. Until her twelfth year, the year of her first menses and welcome into the House of Women, she was content in this world of physical and mental discipline and camaraderie. At twelve, her life took on added meaning as she prepared for her Vision Quest. At thirteen, she had her Vision in the Sacred Temple of Hekate. In a dream-like state, her life purpose unfolded and those whose web of life she would touch were revealed to her. Her guide wrote it out on parchment from the sacred Trees of Ossark. At her coming of age naming, she chose Zohra, discarding Delorita and the burden it carried.
A week out of the Temple, she lost the clarity of the vision, but her guide did not. She was initiated into Hekate's Inner Circle, and ascended to a higher level of Athena's warriors. Her guide, teachers and mentors steered her toward the training she would need to help her in her future tasks and lessons. Under the guise of traveling as an athletic competitor for the Galactic Games, she met many teachers that gave her more arduous lessons to work at than her competitions in the games.
When Zohra was of the right age, she enrolled in one of the galactic space academies in Committee's space. While in her first year at the Academy for the training of flight and infantry officers, the Brothers of the Shadow approached her and a few of her sisters, with an offer to join in an undercover operation to undo the abuses of the Committee under the name of Naboth's Vine. Their Mother House cleared it. In her third year at the Academy, she and some friends witnessed Cadet Montran's abduction and beating. Their hue and cry saved Cadet Montran's life.
***
Chapter 6
Cadet Zohra looked over the grounds of her new home for the next four stan years. Her athletically trim figure threw a long shadow behind her, down the deep blue gras
sy slope shading some of her fellow cadets. They were at ease, laughing and comparing notes. They had been at the Academy for three standard months and were still adjusting to their new life before the Academy's academic regiment went into full swing, a stan week away. The returning upper cadet's, the Pugs, had taken over most of the training and recreational facilities and as Plebes, first year cadets, they found it safer to remain out of their way.
Zohra's dark eyes scanned the group of buildings looking for the flight-training tower. She heard Cadet ChaTak approach before she felt the hand on her shoulder. The meltian was one of her roommates. She had bonded well with ChaTak though she was not at all like anyone she had grown up with. ChaTak gave nothing away about herself, a curio Zohra wished to explore. Usually she was able to read a person, no matter their species, within a quarter of a stan hour, through body movements, voice intonation and the eyes. She had made a game of it during her competitive years as a galactic athlete. Reading her opponents quickly gave her the edge over others and was a large contribution to her wins as well as forming friendships. Something she held in reserve. And though she could not figure the meltian cadet out, she felt they did have a friendship.
