Between Two Minds: Revelation

by D C Wright-Hammer

  What happened?

  “The migration placed your mind here with me, apart from Charlie. Not long after, you had begun finding Charlie’s memories, and I had followed to make sure you wouldn’t harm him. It was when he was working with you that something strange happened.

  “He finally saw me for the first time. It was like he’d seen a ghost. But through the fear, there was also a hint of recognition. He told you to ‘save him from himself’ using my likeness to show what he’d become. Afterwards, Charlie became the strongest I’d ever seen him. He gave up his potential for a second chance, so you’d have the strength to fight the Padre. He was also trying to protect you…from me. He believed, deep down, that if he went away, I would go away as well.”

  It was no wonder Charlie and I were able to connect so quickly. He’d been living with another mind for most of his life. At this point, I needed to know Alabaster’s intentions.

  Why contact me now?

  “I’ve heard your thoughts. Charlie’s going to wake up soon. You feel like we may be in danger.”

  The Alliance! That’s right. What are we going to do?

  “If Charlie or you can’t handle the situation, hand things over to me. I’m pretty resourceful under pressure.”

  I had my doubts. How do I know I can trust you?

  He placed his titanic hand on my shoulder. “We’re all in this together, Ryan.”

  Helen sat on the bed in her gown as J-A typed into the computer.

  “Here comes the medical disc. Don’t move.”

  Helen became one with the saucer as J-A sat in the chair to ask her questions.

  She looked Helen right in the eye. “Does he know?”

  Helen tilted her head. “Does who know what?”

  “Does Charlie-Ryan know you’re pregnant?”

  The computer blared as Helen scowled in contempt. But she quickly realized her usual sassiness wasn’t going to have an effect on J-A. Helen took a deep breath, buying time to come up with some kind of explanation. Instead, she burst into tears.

  J-A stood up and moved over to hold her awkwardly. “There. There. Everything’s going to be fine.” J-A pulled back and wiped the tears from Helen’s face, then sat back down clumsily.

  Helen eventually gathered herself. “I haven’t told him. I was hoping it would turn out to be side effects from the migration, but I guess I’ve known for weeks. What does it mean for Natalie and the procedure?”

  J-A continued soothing her, dryly. “It’s not invasive. You and the baby will be fine.”

  Still weeping, Helen felt a great deal of relief having finally talked about it. She wanted to know more. “How does it work? Is this Natalie and Charlie’s baby?”

  J-A Sighed. “ADG placed your genetic markers on top of the DNA of your hosts. The baby will be ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent Natalie and Charlie, and it’ll be one more thing to cover with them when they awaken. But a little piece of her will be Ryan and you. Fortunately, there’s no better place to raise mind-pair children than here.”

  Helen smiled through her remaining sobs.

  J-A pushed forward. “Now, we’re still building our profile on Natalie, so it’ll be helpful if you tell me everything you know about her before she awakens. Where she worked. Who she spent time with. Anything will be helpful.”

  The terminal screeched.

  Helen rubbed her face, and then, cut to the chase. “She worked for Frank Simon before he’d formed Pure Minds United.”

  JA scowled. “Shit. Simon?” She thought for a moment. “Wait a minute.” She pulled out her netphone and brought up a holo of a city map. She panned out and sighed in disappointment. “What the hell is he up to?”

  Helen was confused. “What does this map have to do with Simon?”

  “Right before you arrived, we’d gotten some information regarding the recent rise in shifters like Charlie-Ryan and you. A member of ours, R-J, had hacked ADG’s system several months ago, but he’d been captured before he made it back to confirm. He was held in the old Countyville prison. We had Charlie-Ryan hack into the system logs and discovered that a user named Minos_Yass exposed the most important ADG sub-system for the exact few minutes we were hacking. Minos_Yass is an anagram for Simon Says.”

  Helen squinted. “But Simon hasn’t been seen for years. How would he suddenly have access to the ADG system?”

  J-A’s face revealed disgust. “He and I have a history. He’s a scumbag, and he never stops looking for his next victims.”

  The computer produced a ruckus.

  A queasiness overcame Helen, but her curiosity helped to curb it. “What does Natalie’s involvement with Simon mean for bringing her back?”

  J-A shook her head. “It’s not an issue. Even if she has some old form of bigotry, we’ll work with her until she’s cooperative. You’d be surprised how quickly they abandon their fabricated hatred when they live peacefully with what they consider ‘the other side.’” She paused for a moment. “There is one other thing I wanted to mention before it’s too late. It’s about Charlie-Ryan. Charlie’s condition.”

  “Before what’s too late?” Helen tilted her head. “Charlie’s condition?”

  J-A looked up from the computer. “Normally, a brain is one solid unit, and one mind occupies the entire space. For migrations with artificial hosts, this is fine, because no mind was ever established. For organic hosts like Charlie and Natalie, it’s different. If you’re familiar with computer terms, it’s like creating two separate partitions on the same hard drive so it acts as two. That’s what happens with organic hosts.”

  Helen was surprised at how much it made sense. The terminal screeched, and suddenly, Helen heard a thud against the wall. She was instantly concerned for Ryan, but was then distracted by J-A’s face. There was a delay between her facial movements and the words she spoke. It was enough to make Helen forget about the thud and continue listening.

  “Typically, these partitions can’t communicate with each other without assistance. This is what makes Charlie-Ryan so special. Their mind-pair was able to communicate almost immediately after the procedure. It wasn’t until we read previous brain scans on Charlie that we learned why.”

  The lag in audio and visual was finally getting annoying for Helen, so she wanted to say something. It’s difficult for me to keep up.

  The computer screamed.

  “Long story short: Charlie already had another mind occupying the partition where Ryan ended up. The scans revealed Charlie’s other mind was very peculiar indeed. It had an alarming number of similarity to countless sociopaths throughout history. His alter ego is likely very dangerous, and we’re going to keep you both in confinement until we can confirm he’s safe. But don’t worry.”

  The terminal was deafening, but Helen was steadily losing consciousness. She barely heard J-A’s final words before the blackness took over.

  “As long as I’m here, everything will be fine.”

  Chapter 20:

  The Art of War

  “As long as I’m here, everything will be fine,” Ernesto said during his motivational speech for his troops while he deliberately paced back and forth in the war room. His black combat boots kept a steady beat against the concrete floor. His dark gray khakis swooshed with each step. The matching shirt was tight against his rippled chest and abs.

  Behind him, the holo-board had a map of a suburban block with lines and arrows going in various directions. There were times and procedures written out across the board to ensure that the mission was precisely planned down to the second.

  Ernesto ran things as if he was top dog with his tail held high and was more than convincing. Yet, Garfield had made it clear that he was in charge—the alpha male—and Ernesto would have to follow his commands without question, as beta male at best. The role fit Ernesto like a glove a half-size too small. It had been that way when he was in
his God-given body. He had always needed his underlings to know that he wouldn’t flinch in battle, that he’d go on scheming to the very last second.

  It was true, when Garfield would show up, Ernesto deferred, and his tail would dip. But it was against his nature to let his tail go between his legs. Garfield sensed this in Ernesto, and he attempted to press all the right buttons to get Ernesto to submit. Ernesto was certain the only reason he was still alive was the fact that he’d never given in.

  That quality was what made his leadership so impactful. While his newest host’s face was smooth and young, his demeanor and gait carried decades of victorious combat. He was a leader of men. A cool, calm, and calculated strategist. And although he wasn’t the commander in chief, he was the highest ranking general, for now.

  The men before Ernesto were the same ones with whom he’d played poker. Since then, he’d gotten confirmation that they’d schemed to cheat him. Ernesto had executed his vengeance with precision. The ones who’d folded the last hand against him got the lightest punishment. He took them on individually, hand-to-hand. Each one was brought to their knees and conceded in front of the rest of the crew. Ernesto ambushed the ones who didn’t have the winning hand and beat them senseless.

  But the dealer and the man who’d ended up with the straight flush were treated much differently. Much worse. They were relentlessly stalked over the course of two weeks. The anxiety and paranoia were far worse than any beating. The beating that eventually came was bad, but there was relief that accompanied it for the men. Their wait was over, and their allegiance to Ernesto was cemented. They craved his mercy.

  After all of that, none of the bloodthirsty killers that sat before Ernesto wanted any part of him in a fight. It’s one of the reasons why they intently listened as he continued his speech. “What makes me so special? Well, you’ve all seen my wrath over the last couple of weeks. You know I’m good for payback when it’s justified.”

  A regretful murmur filled the room.

  “But you’re probably wondering why we’re sending the strongest group of civilian soldiers to capture one older woman in the burbs. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s the way in which I approach my enemies that sets me apart from others. I may loathe the very essence of my opponents. It does make them foolish to some extent to end up in my crosshairs. But deep down, I respect them as individuals. I admire them as humans. I must, or I will underestimate them. It’s when you do this—believe your foes are less than they really are—that you lose the war before any shots are fired or punches thrown.”

  The men leaned in.

  “In his book, The Art of War, Sun Tzu offered hundreds of quotes that are as subtle as they are profound. One literally translates to, ‘Fight your enemy where they are not.’ On the surface, it sounds ridiculous. How do you fight someone when they aren’t there? But like a lot of translations, especially ancient ones, meaning can get confused or lost. The actual intent of the quote is very broad and all the more impactful. ‘Fight your enemy where they are not…strong…where they are not…expecting it…where they are not…prepared to fight back.’”

  His audience leaned back, inhaled, and nodded, processing what they were hearing.

  “The myth of Achilles is a great example of this very point. After going undefeated in hundreds of battles, rumors spread that Achilles was invulnerable, that he was protected by the gods, and that nothing could stop him. During the Trojan Wars, he and the Greek army stormed the city of Troy, slaying many troops with his sword. Despite this, the Trojan army continued to make the same ignorant mistake. They battled Achilles where he was—head on. It cost them a significant number of troops and some leverage in the war. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Prince Hector, the most accomplished Trojan warrior, met his death at the hands of Achilles. The Trojans’ spirit was broken. And had it not been for Hector’s brother, Paris, Achilles may have singlehandedly been the determining factor in the war.

  “Who was this Paris, you might ask? Perhaps a warrior nearly as accomplished as Hector? Maybe all it took was Paris’s beloved brother being slain to put him over the edge?”

  The room was all shrugs and frowns.

  Ernesto scoffed in disappointment. “And that’s where people usually get it wrong. They get mechanical and think that, in order to fight fire, you need your own fire that’s bigger and hotter. The military tends to believe this, and I can’t say that it’s always wrong. A friend of mine made a career out of it, all the way to four-star general. But eventually playing with fire will get you burned.”

  He took a deep breath. “Paris wasn’t much of a fighter. Quite the opposite really. Compared to his brother, he was considered unskilled and cowardly. He openly admitted to having a disdain for swordplay, and instead, preferred a bow and arrows. Sure, today, we know that ranged weapons afford the wielder protection from the dangers of close combat. But in Paris’s time, they were considered dishonorable. But do you think Paris cared?”

  Heads shook.

  “That’s right. Paris would perch himself high up, away from the battles on the ground. He’d peer out and look for the best targets for his arrows. Once his brother was killed, Achilles was all Paris could see. As the battle raged on below him, his sight never wavered. Achilles wore a suit of armor that was exponentially stronger than any other of the time. It was part of his mystique of being invincible. Paris knew an arrow wouldn’t fare any better than a sword, getting through the iron hide.

  “But it was in this analysis that Paris saw something no one else had. You know as much as anyone, if you’re fighting close-quarters, you’re focused on a few areas of your opponent. His head. His hands. His torso. His hips. Where you can’t afford to look is his feet. A second too long eying downward, and defeat is all but certain. And it was near his feet that Achilles greatest weakness lie.

  “Paris saw an opening in the armor. It was right at what’s now referred to as the Achilles heel, even though it was really the tendon that connects the leg and foot. Paris quickly deduced that an arrow to this tendon would merely wound Achilles. With moral at its lowest among the Trojans, he couldn’t afford to let Achilles live. Paris dipped the tip of his arrow in poison. He readied his bow, pulled back hard with a steady aim, and released.”

  Ernesto paused for dramatic effect. The din of a dropped pin would have been deafening.

  “Achilles was defeated. Paris had avenged his brother’s death, and it was a significant blow to the Greek forces.”

  Clap…clap…clap.

  Garfield jeered from the back of the room. “What magnificent storytelling.” He walked to the front of the room. “But you left out some of the most important parts. For instance, the Trojans lost their city anyway.”

  Explosive laughter came from the men who, a moment ago, had been quietly obedient during the speech. Ernesto rolled his eyes trying desperately to keep his tail high as Garfield continued his posturing.

  “Remind me again, Ernesto, how the Greeks got into the city of Troy in the first place. After all, it was known for its towering stone walls that no army could break.”

  Ernesto took a deep breath. “Well—”

  “If I recall correctly, the Greeks made a giant wooden horse and filled it with troops, including Achilles himself. One of the Greeks’ more articulate infantrymen was able to convince the Trojans that the Greeks had given up and gone home. The horse was a show of good faith. A gift. The idiot Trojans moved the horse right into the heart of their city. That night, Greek troops burst out and opened the gates of the impenetrable city. The rest of the Greek army, hidden in the distance, came storming in. What had once ensured the safety of the Trojans, their city, became their cemetery.”

  Ernesto tilted his head and grinned. “You mean the Greeks exploited a weakness of the Trojans? Thanks for proving my point.” His tail was back up.

  The men started to laugh back at Garfield, but he squinted his eyes in annoyance, i
nstantly silencing the room. The men immediately made themselves scarce before they were commanded to do so, and it was just Ernesto and Garfield staring at each other without words.

  Garfield finally looked away. “You’re not the only one who’s studied Tzu. ‘Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.’ You’re trying awfully hard to seem strong. It’s adorable.”

  Ernesto nodded. “‘One may know how to conquer without being able to do it.’ Yet.”

  Garfield let out one loud laugh that was as nervous as it was offensive.

  Ernesto sensed he was getting to Garfield by playing his game better than even he.

  “Ernesto, there’s something you’re not getting. ‘Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.’ I’ve already won. This pissing contest is making that more and more obvious.”

  “For now, I am your servant. I’ve yet to be humbled.”

  Garfield’s eyes lit up. “All this jibber jabber with you made me forget why I came here. Thanks for the reminder. Follow me.”

  He led Ernesto through the facility and out toward the parking garage. As they exited the building, an autocar magically pulled up, and they both sat in the back. The car drove, and Ernesto enjoyed the time away from the facility, his first since arriving. The midday sun was bright overhead, and Ernesto became curious. “Where are you taking me now?”

  A smirk overtook Garfield’s face. “Those men you were training. They were stand-ins, only there to keep an eye on you and push your body and mind to the limits. We’re going to get your real squad together right now. If it makes you feel better, you can give all the same pep-talks to them. This time, I promise I won’t humiliate you afterward.” He winked.

  Ernesto didn’t flinch, but he couldn’t deny he’d been played. He’d had no idea the training was fixed. The men seemed genuinely taken by him. Garfield’s chest puffing made it that much more authentic as well. He quickly shook the feeling and shifted his attention to the situation at hand. He’d have a whole new crew to get up to speed, and he’d have very little time to do so. Fortunately, they’d have the abduction of the woman as a trial run before they’d have to take on any shifters.