by Tex Leiko
He grabbed his banking chip and headed out, locking the door to his apartment behind him. He made his way through the alley cautiously. He knew that he would now have not only the Faraza looking for him, but the Psyker Scream crew as well. He didn’t want a repeat of the stealth assassins; he had barely managed to win that battle.
He found a small café around the corner from his home and went in to get breakfast. He connected to a multiprocessor interface access center that the café had available to the public and looked up records on Psyker’s leader, Badger.
None of the information he could find on him was of any use. Most of it was peripheral junk that fans of any rock band would eat up. The deepest thing he could find on the man was that his real name was Coy McRodger; subsequent searches of that name yielded no fruits. He’d gotten the stage name Badger in high school due to his awkward face and the wiry hair that covered his body.
Frustrated, he devoured his breakfast and left the café. If his job wasn’t to knock people around all night in a cage, he would be seeking a fight. It seemed to him as if there was too much going on in his life—the Faraza, Psyker Screams, and Sarah. He knew Sarah was still alive; he had seen her in a raiding party before he left Ilyeion.
She remembers me? She’s a person still? Yeah, right!
It wasn’t uncommon for loved ones to come back as raiders. However, when they came back, they were never themselves. When the parties first started showing up, an attempt was made to try to capture live ones that were recognized. Many families had retrieved their loved ones only to be left with even more heartbreak.
There wasn’t one successful case of retrieval. Nobody was certain as to how they did it, but the Faraza always controlled those who had been captured. Their victims never remembered who they were; they usually didn’t even remember how to speak. They would fight at every chance they had to escape.
Ultimately, the efforts to retrieve people whom were recognized were stopped. The ones who had been retrieved and reunited with their families more often than not were successful in killing their family that wanted nothing more than to rehabilitate them and ease their suffering. Those who weren’t killed were maimed and sadistically tortured. Nobody was sure how the Faraza was brainwashing them and turning them into these mindless drones of destruction, but they were, so efforts to capture and rehabilitate stopped. That was why when the assassin told Zarfa that Sarah wanted to speak with him, he was incredulous.
There is no way. Of course he knows about Sarah. I’m somewhat infamous with the Faraza. Why would he lie? What was his motive? To get into my head?
It worked. Zarfa began to think of all that had happened before he left Ilyeion. He was hailed as a hero and a champion there. In the years since his sister had been taken, he had killed raiders into the thousands. When they attacked, he had organized a small band of those agonizing over their own losses. They would suit up for battle and head into the streets with whatever weaponry they could find on short notice. They called themselves “Legon Nine.” Originally, Legion was given as a nickname to Zarfa because he fought as if he were one on his own, and the number he slew grew to match it.
He started with eight strong supporters that followed him into the first of his counter attacks against the Faraza. A year later, they had grown to roughly two hundred soldiers, and their ranks grew each day. Though they were gaining in numbers and strength, these soldiers faced loss at each battle. Of Zarfa’s original eight, only two remained alive, and one of them was crippled beyond the ability to fight.
Despite the danger, despite the loss, whenever the swarm arrived to ravage Ilyeion, Zarfa would send the call, and his warriors would heed it. They would clad themselves in whatever armor they could afford or make, and take up any armaments they could get their hands on. Some had rifles, pistols, and bows. Others could only muster a crude makeshift weapon or plasma blade. Some took trophies of the weapons the raiders had used, gaining pleasure in crushing them with their own instruments of destruction. Zarfa always took a backup plasma Tanto blade and a gauss pistol, but he preferred to kill with his bare hands if he could.
He remembered his army back at home waiting for his return, all of their hopes resting upon his shoulders. He carried a great weight; he vowed to bring the Faraza down. He was resolved to do that now more than ever, but what would he do when confronted with his sister?
What if that man wasn’t lying? Why would she want to see me?
He called to mind how it seemed that if when raiders saw him, they would concentrate the attack, almost as if they were intent on capturing or killing him. He always thought that this was because of the trouble he was causing them. He thought it was because he was infamous amongst the Faraza for killing so many of their men.
What if it was an order from…Sarah?
He shook his head in disbelief and exhaled a breath that he felt he had been holding for the last couple of blocks. He was so lost in thought he didn’t even realize how tense he was. Now, he stood outside the big black door that led into Max’s clinic. He took a couple of deep breaths to relax and tried to shake loose his tense muscles. He really didn’t want to hear what Crimson had to say, especially since something of her reminded him of his dear sister.
This bitch had better not mention Sarah too or I’ll kill her with my bare hands.
Zarfa opened the door calmly and glanced around the room. There they were, waiting for him. He was already on the offensive and he hadn’t even heard what either of them had to say yet.
* * * *
“What do you mean he killed the two we sent? They were two of our best. They even had tech on them that Zarfa had never seen before. We knew he was dangerous, but this? We can’t afford capturing him. We either let him be or we kill him,” said Ghast, commander of the Faraza.
“You said if I helped you that you would deliver my brother. I’ve made good to my end of the bargain. It’s about time you make good on yours.”
“That I make good on mine? Dear Sarah, don’t forget who made you and gave you strength lest you lose your head, fledgling.”
Ghast glanced over to the messenger in the room and thought it would be best if this dispute between he and Sarah were handled with no eyes or ears on them. He waved him off then glanced down at his gun in a contemplative manner so as to send the hint that if he didn’t get out quickly, he would shoot the messenger. This underling valued his life, so he made haste out of the door while Sarah stared at Ghast, enraged with his proposal.
“You dare to make me look weak in front of a low ranking solider such as that? Neither of us even knows his name. He is that valueless. They always send the nothings…you know my temper, being what it is,” Ghast spat out.
“That I do, master,” Sarah said condescendingly, “but stop trying to distract my attention to the real matter. Zarfa is powerful; it is why we want him on our side. What is the toll up to? How many has he killed of ours in battle? One, two, three—”
“He has killed roughly two thousand; stop trying to exaggerate his greatness.”
“Oh yes, only two thousand…with his own hands. Did you forget Legion Nine? How many thousands have they killed?”
The room was silent. Ghast and Sarah could hear each other’s breaths. Only the two of them stood in the room; it was his office in the underground catacombs carved out by the mud wasps. He sat behind a small desk made of dried mud, which had been crafted by the wasp drones. Sarah stood as an ominous cloud staring into his eyes with rage.
“And that is exactly why I sent the two. That is why their orders were to take him, dead or alive. They had every trick up their sleeve to use, even tech that hasn’t been released to the common market yet, and still they—”
“Failed! I know, so now you send ten, twenty, thirty at a time! However many it takes! I want my brother and I want him here. I know we will have to condition him at this point or else there is no way that he will join us; he is too idealistic. However…and you had better be listening to me, I want my brot
her to be recognizable. I want my brother alive. I want him as my protector again in some way, shape, or form, but I don’t want him to be a drone. His power lies in his emotions and his feelings. What kind of a protector would he be if he didn’t love me as he once did? Let’s face it, even if you had taken him the day you took me, he wouldn’t have joined our cause. He is going to be stubborn. He would rather die than be a member of the Faraza, even if it means he can have me back. In his mind, when he meets me again, I won’t be his sister. I’ll be his enemy. He was damaged too much when Mother and Father were ‘taken,’” she said.
“If it wasn’t for your father, I would have you killed. I know he heard me say that in one way or another, but it is true. He values me only slightly above you, but I will not forget my place, and you…you had better not forget yours, worm,” Ghast spat back.
“You are very wise to know no conversation between you and me is confidential. Down here, nothing is sacred. Someone is always listening, and that someone is ultimately my father. So, even if I am under you…get Zarfa back. Plain, simple. Got it?”
Ghast was outraged. If he weren’t sitting behind a desk, Sarah would see his legs trembling with anger. It was all he could do to keep his hands from quaking the same way. He had been the leader of Faraza for the last twenty years; he still was. However, three years ago, when he had received the orders to capture Zarfa and Sarah, he had begun to see his end was close at hand.
Their father, Thomas Cudrow, was at the heart of Faraza. Ghast, although being first in command and public figurehead of this cult of raiders, was merely a puppet following orders from Sarah’s father. Ghast viewed the capture of Thomas’ children as a threat to his power and authority. He would rather see them dead.
“I got it. If I don’t get your toy back, you’re going to go tell Daddy on me…grow up,” he said, looking to the ceiling where he assumed a bug to be spying, and gave a wink.
“Don’t forget it, love,” she said as she stormed out of the room and slammed the door.
* * * *
“He is in the slums. I can hear him faintly. He doesn’t even know he is speaking to the network, but he is there…listening to what she has to say,” said Zax.
“Crimson? The bitch that damn near shot my ear off?”
“Yep, her. He’s hearing her out…appears they aren’t allies…yet. I’d like to tell you what exactly is going on, but he has only had one treatment. I’m surprised he is broadcasting a signal this strong. If he has all five treatments and is trained…he may be a better solider than you, Badger.”
“I see. Give me details as they come in. Also, send ten men to Max’s. Give them the order shoot to kill, except the bald one. Take Zarfa alive if we can. We don’t want Crimson corrupting his mind. She knows too much about us, and whether she intends to fight against us or not, we don’t have the time to wait and see.”
“Understood, sending out the order now to our top ten soldiers.”
Badger paced back and forth in the room, clenching his injured ear between his index finger and his thumb. He still wasn’t quite sure how this disorganized threesome had heard him and his psychic army the night before. He knew that Max and Crimson could hear a little of their broadcasts without having Psyker bot treatments, but so could anyone.
The bots made it so that the recipient of treatments could pick up on the unconscious brainwave resonation that every human produced. On top of that, it would make those who had received treatments resonate stronger. Zarfa had to be an anomaly because nobody was able to broadcast from that far away after one treatment. The fact that they could track him twenty or more miles across town meant by the fifth treatment, he would hypothetically be able to converse with other Psykers around the globe.
This thought frustrated Badger for two reasons; one, Zarfa would be a dangerous enemy if left unchecked; two, Badger had received orders from the top to let him live until he had made his decision resolute. Even if his decision was to go back to Legion Nine, Badger was to leave him alone.
“How long until our men reach Max’s office?” Badger asked Zax.
“With hovercraft congestion on the airways the way it is right now? Forty-five minutes at least.”
* * * *
“Punctual, I like it,” stated Crimson with a smirk.
Zarfa said nothing in return. He glared at her as thoughts of his sister invaded his mind. For some reason, he could see Sarah in Crimson and he both loved it and hated it. He probably would have appreciated it more if it weren’t for the fact that he had earlier been introduced to the thought that Sarah might still be herself, and working with the Faraza by her own volition.
“In all fairness, you did say afternoon, so would I still be punctual if arrived at three?”
“Yes, less punctual, but still punctual. The fact that it is only a minute past twelve screams punctual. Like a solider, like a…commander even,” she said with an eyebrow raised.
Zarfa stood only a few feet inside the doorway. He now closed the door behind him. He knew it absurd, but he didn’t want anyone passing by to hear this conversation.
Max sat behind his desk at the far end of the room with his hands folded in front of him. He still hadn’t cleaned up the broken glass from the night before. Neither had he patched his injury with medifoam. Strange, Zarfa thought.
Crimson sat in front of Max on his desk and to his left so as not to obstruct Zarfa’s view of Max. There was a chair seated in front of both of them with a small table next to it. On the table, Zarfa could see that it was their attempt to make him as comfortable as possible. They had placed some water and snacks on it for him.
“Please, have a seat,” said Max
Zarfa walked over and plopped himself down in the chair. It was comfortable, but he felt as if he were being interviewed, and he still didn’t trust that the food and snacks weren’t laced with something.
“Why is it I feel as if the two of you are teaming up to tell me something I don’t want to hear?” Zarfa asked.
“I assure you, Max knows as little about why we are here as you do. I refrained from telling him anything until you arrived for that very purpose.”
Max nodded his head in agreement.
“So, what is the meaning of this? You said there was a war coming, then tell me. When? Where? Why? What does it have to do with us?” Zarfa was monotone, but already sounding aggressive.
“Before I do, please let me preface all that I say with this; first off, Zarfa, I’ve done my homework on you. I know you lead a small army, Legion Nine, as they are called, and it is quite impressive. Little to your knowledge, but the fact that you are fighting against the Faraza makes us allies. Furthermore, I know why you are here. I know why you are getting Psyker treatments. However, you have been misinformed. If you do modify your hearing, your scheme will work. You will be able to hear the wasps before they emerge from the earth, and you will be able to track them back to their lair… However…” She lingered for a moment because she could tell Zarfa’s curiosity had been piqued.
“However what?” he asked, not even bothering with such things as how she had known he was planning on an offensive strike after he returned.
“Why do you think that so many young adults have decided to get the Psyker treatments despite the high risk? Despite the pain? You aren’t privy to this, but have you seen the commercials run in Alexarien advertising Psyker Screams and the modifications required to listen to them? They are blunt, honest, and hide none of the risks. However, what they don’t have to tell you is these commercials have an encrypted frequency that transmits directly into the amygdala and cerebrum of the brain. They send a message silently right to the viewers’ emotions and thoughts.
“Granted, this brainwashing technique works best on young adults, particularly females, however, nobody is immune to it. If it were a perfected technology, they would have no use for the bots. First, they snag their audience with the signal, and then they gut them with the bots. When those bots rewrite your brain to h
ear the higher and the lower frequencies, they also remap your entire brain so that you can hear the thoughts of those whom your brain resonates with clear as day. This enables telepathic communication within what is ultimately Synaptix Corporation’s army they disguise as the band Psyker Screams.
“Badger is their leader and Surge and Zax are his right and left hands. Once anyone has had all five treatments, not only can they communicate telepathically, but they are completely open to any form of suggestion that comes from the base source. I am not sure how many base sources they have, but to my knowledge the three that comprise the band aren’t under anyone’s control but their own. However, they are extremely loyal to Synaptix.
“They can control their ‘fans’ by merely sending them telepathic commands. Those things you heard when you went to the concert were signals you were picking up from the thoughts of the audience. If you go through with the treatments, you will be able to communicate with them. You will be their ally, as well as my own in that Synaptix. We all want to end the Faraza, but you will be susceptible to being one of their little puppets…which would make you my enemy.”
“So you’re telling me if I follow my goals, we are going to be enemies? Why don’t you go ahead and kill me right here? Or try anyhow.”
“Because it isn’t my style to do so. They can’t control you yet. You still have time to decide. If you stop the treatments now, you will go deaf, also one of their tricks to make sure they build their army of brainwashed slaves without letup. Being deaf isn’t so bad, not compared to being a tool of Synaptix.”
As Zarfa sat in quiet contemplation, Max’s mind was running a mile a minute. “Hang on, it wasn’t only Zarfa who heard voices, though. I did, and I am willing to bet you have too, Crimson. How is that possible if we don’t have the nanobots in us?”
“Our brains, even without modifications, naturally resonate between one and thirty hertz at any given time. You should know that, doctor. We were standing in a mass concentration of people whose brains have been modified to amplify that resonation so naturally, we would receive bleed through messages. Of course, we could never communicate back. We would never be able to spy on them and figure out what they were saying. We would only get garbled voices and random words that meant nothing. Zarfa, on the other hand, had already had some modification, which is why with a little focus, he could center in on Badger’s ‘voice.’ Consequently, Zarfa, they can now track you wherever you are until you either go deaf from complications or become one of them and don’t care any longer if they are tracking you or not.”
