by C. T. Phipps
“Bastard.”
“Perhaps. Then again, I also would be glad to give up that intelligence if it meant my friend achieved some peace with her tormentors.”
“Peace doesn’t come from the barrel of a gun. Only momentary satisfaction.”
“Sometimes that’s all that matters.”
That was when I heard Clarice’s voice muttering. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, looking down upon us as we die. When the blazing sun is gone, when the nothing shines upon, then you show your little light. Twinkle, twinkle in the eternal night.”
“A little different from the version my mother used to sing,” William muttered.
“More accurate, perhaps,” I said, turning around a corner.
There, sitting at the back of a half-illuminated corridor with half of the lights having failed, and the other half flickering, was Clarice. She sat in her spacesuit, her arms around her legs and leaning against one of the cell doors. Her makeup was running with tears, but her expression was cold and empty. A bloody vibrating knife was turned off and buried in the crack between floor plating.
Clarice didn’t look up at us. “What the hell do want?”
“We came to check on how you were doing,” William said, looking back in embarrassment.
“I’m fine. Fuck off,” Clarice said.
A part of me wanted to do just that. I was a great believer in leaving those who had suffered to their own devices, damned what the psychologists said. I had been raised to believe personal trauma was a private issue and not to be shared with others. That had done exactly jack and shit for me, so I was open to the idea doing the opposite couldn’t hurt.
“If that is your wish,” I said, walking over and sitting down beside her, “but I would also like to offer my help.”
“Cassius, maybe we shouldn’t—” William started to say.
“Aren’t you supposed to be plotting a course for Shogun? I thought we were going to track down my sister because she’s working with terrorists,” Clarice said, her voice low and full of venom.
“You know about that, huh?” William said, not leaving.
“It’s a small ship,” Clarice said, picking up her knife and looking at it. “And Cass, aren’t you supposed to be prepping to desert the ship?”
William looked surprised and glanced over at me.
“Yeah,” I said, not denying it. “I don’t want to get caught up in the bullshit of murder, politics, and lies again.”
“Then shoot yourself,” Clarice said, flipping the knife over in her hands. “Because that’s the only way you’re going to escape it. Running is what you’re good at, though, so I suppose that should be expected.”
She then hurled her knife at the wall and watched it clang against it before falling to the ground.
“Perhaps,” I said, staring.
“Listen, Cassius and I were concerned—” William started to say.
“That I was going to flip out and go ax crazy on the prisoner, peeling off her skin?” Clarice asked.
“Yeah, basically,” William said, surprising me.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” Clarice said, shaking her head. “I intended to go in there, but I ended up having flashbacks and had to leave. The fucking creature knew how to push all the right buttons. Chel can get in your head and ruin you.”
Clarice was one of the strongest people I knew but there was no shame in battle shock. You could suppress it with memory pills, have the offending memories removed surgically, spend years in therapy, or slowly recover through love as well as affection, but science had provided no true answers for it.
The human brain was the guiding mechanism of the greatest weapon which had ever existed: man. It was also designed to prevent total war from ever being waged purely. Perhaps a reason why man remained the greatest weapon ever created and hadn’t simply destroyed itself.
“Do you want help?” I asked, surprising myself.
I had no stomach for torture, but it was surprising the number of things a person would do for love.
William looked disgusted. “You can’t be serious.”
“I said to fuck off,” Clarice said, glaring at him. “Any part you had to play in my life is over.”
William looked down then to the side and punched the wall.
He then walked off.
“Bad break-up?” I asked.
“Not really,” Clarice said, sighing. “He wanted more than I was willing to give. I’m doing my job here, making the world a better place.”
“I see.”
“Thank you, Cassius,” Clarice said, getting up. “I am glad you came to talk and, as much as I hate to admit it, I am glad William came too.”
“We haven’t said anything.”
“And I’d rather you not.” Clarice rubbed her face. “It’s the fact you wanted to talk at all that makes me happy.”
“It was a serious offer, though.”
Clarice stopped rubbing. “We need to know what she knows more than we need to make me feel better. Though, honestly, I suppose we could get the majority of that from your sister.”
“She’s not my sister,” I said, lying. “She’s a bioroid with her memories according to Isla and Ida.”
Clarice did a double take. “Buddha’s tits.”
“I’m not even going to ask,” I said, wondering what sort of religion they practiced in Shogun. “In any case, that’s part of the reason I don’t want to stay here. I feel like I’m drowning in all of the lies and misdirection.”
“Like I said,” Clarice shrugged. “There’s no way out of it but death. This is a shit universe. You take shit, you eat shit, you produce shit, and you give shit. When you die, you become shit. There’s not really a whole lot of options to avoid it.”
“I was hoping a massive amount of money would help.”
Clarice gave a half-smile. “I had that. It was certainly nice, but it didn’t keep the shit away indefinitely. Can you really say you were happy when you were Count Such and Such of So and So?”
“I can honestly say it did a good job of fooling me for a while.”
Clarice kept looking at me.
“No,” I said, sucking in my breath. “I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to make my mark on history and have people cheer my name. I wanted to rebel against my father’s legacy by forging my own. The only thing I managed was killing thousands of people and getting some movies made about me.”
“That is a hero,” Clarice said, shaking her head. “What’s the old saying? Kill one man and they call you a murderer, kill a hundred men and you’re a hero?”
“Kill a million men and you’re God,” I finished the proverb. “I’m a few short of deification, even counting all those poor bastards caught up in the explosion of their starships. The thing is, they were working on Cognition A.I. on that starship Ida is investigating and—”
“You want another chance to play hero.”
I closed my eyes. “God, I feel so stupid.”
“You’re talking to the woman who thought it was a good idea to try to confront her torture by torturing a random member of a mind-controlling race.”
“Not one of your finer moments.”
Clarice frowned. “So, how did Isla react when you told her you were leaving?”
“Not well.”
“How did you expect her to react?”
“I realized I would have stayed with her a few minutes too late.” I got up off the ground and looked at the solid steel cell door.
“Love is just friendship and fucking as my cousin always used to say.”
“Also, taking care of their financial needs.”
“No, that’s marriage.”
“Do you think I should try to stop this Cognition A.I. thing?” I asked.
“You should ask William.”
“I sincerely doubt that would help.”
“No, he’s actually a hero back on his planet,” Clarice said, surprising me. �
�He and his brothers all joined the fight to drive off Crius when they were kids. They won many battles, including some legendary ones, and managed to get themselves crowned Living Immortals. Of course, of the seven brothers he had, five of them died and two were left crippled. Still, he achieved everything he wanted and more from life, then was left with the question of what to do with it.”
I thought about that. “What a strange collection of individuals we make. Anyone else famous on this ship?”
“U’Chuck is the former dictator of a cult-planet. The aliens there don’t believe in execution, so they wiped her memory and had her cybernetically upgraded like you. Then they sold her to the Commonwealth to serve as a bondservant to atone for her sins.”
I laughed.
“I wish I was kidding,” Clarice said. “It’s probably not true but who would believe our daytime navigator was the Fire Count.”
“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m just a bioroid who thinks he’s the Fire Count.”
“I doubt it. Isla would be less pissed at you then.”
I smiled.
“So your advice is to talk to William.”
“My advice is you’ve probably already made up your mind to stay. I hate the Commonwealth and everything it stands for, but I’m here working for a ship that helps prop it up because it gives me a chance to think I’m doing something to atone for my sins.”
“Is atonement possible?”
“Ask a priest. You can’t bring back the people you murdered, so it won’t do anything good for the people you killed or their families. You might do something for someone else, though, but maybe they’re assholes. In the end, all of us ultimately answer to ourselves.”
“And God.”
“I have a bullet reserved for whichever deity runs this universe. Buddha or not.”
“You really don’t know much about Buddhism, do you?”
“Not really, no. I was too busy making out with the choir girls and boys to care.”
I chuckled and looked at the cell door. “I’d like to interrogate the prisoner.”
“You have my permission,” Clarice said, taking a deep breath. “Just promise me you won’t let them touch you. One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Put a bullet in its head after you’re done. I don’t give a fuck what Ida says.”
I nodded.
Chapter Nineteen
The interior of the cell was disgusting and in dire need of cleaning. The walls covered in algae, a poorly-washed out collection of vomit, as well as urine, was gathered around the drain, and an ill-used toilet sat in the background. These cells were primarily used for drunk or rowdy crew members, but I saw blood had dried into the lining of the wall.
Several times, this section of the Melampus had been sealed off from the rest of the ship and much of the crew given shore leave. It made me wonder if torture had been done to her before and, if so, who had done it since Clarice wasn’t up to it.
In the center of the room was a chair that held the figure of the Chel woman, badly. It was made for a smaller human, but the wrists and ankle shackles fit on her nevertheless. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit which also fit her badly. There were no signs of her being beaten but a few signs of her being hit with stun blasts at close range, not just the ones Clarice had poured into her.
“Have you come to torture me?” The Chel woman said, her voice eerily musical and oddly echoing. A look into her eyes showed they were three times the size of a normal woman’s and completely blue.
“Perhaps,” I said.
“It is poor treatment for a prisoner of war,” the Chel woman said.
“The Chel have not signed any treaties with any government I could theoretically represent,” I said, walking up to her but out of range of being touched. “People do not treat prisoners of war with dignity because they feel it is a moral affront to do otherwise but because they do not want their own people to be tortured.”
“How effective is that?”
“Not very.”
The woman smiled, her teeth a collection of small fish-like ones. “I have seen into the mind of Clarice. Your name is Cassius and you are the Fire Count. Interesting to find you on board a Commonwealth ship.”
“Telepathy doesn’t exist,” I said. “No matter what your people claim.”
“No it doesn’t,” the woman said. “But the modifications we’ve made to our minds allow us to measure things like sweat, stance, pheromones, and voice to know about mood. The rest we learn simply by listening. We can share our thoughts better than read them, at least with the Unascended.”
“Unascended, what is that?”
“You would have to be Chel to know.”
“Who are the Chel anyway?” I asked, trying to keep her talking. “Your race refuses to speak with any of us, murders our forces, and tortures us when we violate your territory.”
“Perhaps that speaks more to you than it does us. As to who we choose to speak to, just because it is not you does not mean it is no one.”
I looked at her. “So who are the Chel?”
“A race like any other.”
“A race currently inside the Free Systems Alliance, aiding the Crius Reborn movement and other parties in trying to overthrow the Commonwealth.”
“Is that a statement or a question?”
“Why don’t you tell me.”
“T’ianna.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is T’ianna,” the Chel woman said. “I think it’s important to know a person’s name if you’re going to torture and murder them.”
I paused. “Yes, it is.”
“But you’re still going to do it.”
“Maybe not the torture part,” I said, leaning up against the wall and crossing my arms. “But for someone I care about, yes, you will die.”
“I do not know your Clarice, but I can tell she’s one of the few to ever escape Chel custody. That is her loss.”
“Her loss?” I asked, ready to shoot her right then and there. Which might have been what she wanted.
“Yes,” T’ianna said, flicking some of her over-long fingers. “The touch of a Chel can share memories and bestow indescribable pleasure as well as pain. We are a people united together in purpose, cause, and devotion. The rest of humanity can only imagine what being us is like, and those we capture eventually become like us.”
“By mind-raping them into submission.”
“Pain is frequently the gateway to wisdom. Supplicants must first be broken down in order to fully have their minds opened to the experience of our species.”
“You’re not doing much to persuade me not to kill you.”
“Is there anything I could possibly say to do so?” T’ianna shrugged. “I can tell you love this woman just as she feels for you and the robot doctor. Just as she feels for other men and women in her life. You will kill me for her, not cause or duty, so it really doesn’t matter what I have to say.”
She had a point. “It might save lives.”
“Oh?”
This was a long shot, but I wanted to try it anyway. “I don’t give a shit about the Commonwealth. The entirety of Albion and its holdings could fall into a black hole and I would buy drinks to watch it happen. However, if you want to achieve your goals then people need to understand what they are. Either so the Commonwealth can bow to them or other people can join you. Lasting peace only happens through mutual understanding.”
“Lasting peace is a lie told to children. Peace is simply a measure of time between wars. The Chel have kept the peace between its peoples through keeping conflicts on an individual level.”
“Very civilized,” I deadpanned, not entirely disagreeing. “I stand by my statement, though. Clarice might also be persuaded not to kill you if she thinks it will make her a hero. She very much wants to atone, and peace is a good way to begin.”
T’ianna was silent. “She’s like you in that respect, I suppose. Even so, I think you want me to tell you about Cognition A.I
., the Free Crius, and our other allies so they can be destroyed.”
“Nothing gets past you.”
T’ianna closed her eyes. “All right.”
“All right?”
“Nothing I say will not be revealed in the coming months and I am not eager to die,” T’ianna said. “A small chance of persuading you not to kill me is better than none. We are, after all, both sentients, and I do not think you’re a bad man.”
That was her first mistake. “Why are you aiding the Crius Reborn movement?”
“For four hundred years, the Chel have existed in a state of isolation and peace,” T’ianna said. “We have endured in the void, worshiping the Elder Species, and working our way to achieving Singularity. Time, however, is not suspended no matter how much we may desire it to be. Evolution is about—”
“Could you explain without the flourishes.”
“The Commonwealth attacked us and failed. We knew it would attack us again and will continue to do so as long we exist. We are therefore providing resources to its enemies in hopes they will destroy it.”
“Was that so hard?” There was something about her answer that made me think she was lying. No, perhaps not lying, but hiding the truth among factual accuracy. Like saying a wind was coming when it was actually a tornado.
“Less poetic,” T’ianna sighed. “Our other allies are the Transtellar Merchants Guilds.”
I snorted. “You’ll forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?” T’ianna said. “Are you of the mind that all those who make their living through the movement of money are without politics?”
“Generally, yes, I find that to be the case.”
T’ianna gave an enigmatic smile. “Then know the Commonwealth is doomed and take some small amount of pleasure from that. It has consumed too many worlds and devotes more than half of its resources to maintaining the empire it has built. So much so that it will soon collapse economically. The transtellars wish to avoid this by breaking it up into smaller and more manageable spheres of influence.”
“When the Commonwealth joins the Community, that will fix whatever economic woes it’s facing.”
