by Stephanie
“Val—”
She grins, showing her fangs. “Trust me.” Before I can protest, she positions me in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror. “Well, what do you think?” She stands on her tippy-toes and peers over my shoulder.
I blink. I’m accustomed to pastel Community clothing—loose and unparticular. At Lady Black’s suggestion, however, Val chose a matte-black uniform that hugs my lean form. I shift my posture and stand straighter. With this outfit, I might pass for a Special Forces official, and the uniform even makes the murky, blue-grey of my eyes look… different.
“That’s me?”
Val giggles and pokes my nose. “Yes.”
I flex my fingers. Is this really me? I’m not a leader. I’m a programmer. But then, my ability to program is why my uniform has an additional feature other uniforms don’t. I mentally touch the chip in the back of the uniform, then flip the switch. Waves of light trickle the length of the suit, courtesy of fiber optics. I control the shimmer, changing the miniscule lights to blue, green, and then an iridescent flare of color.
I hold out my arms to see the patterns better. “Kind of showy, but this is cool. This is very cool.”
Val punches the air in her victory. “See? I told you you’d like it. Ready for the initiation?”
I look the part, now I just have to be the part. I can do this. They’ll zap me with the pendants, enhance my powers, and give me my job assignment. Not that difficult.
“Does it hurt?” I glance at Val.
“Does what hurt?”
I wave my hand, fishing for the right words. “The pendants. Having your powers enhanced.”
She scrunches her face. “A bit. You are getting blasted with radiation.”
“Because there’s nothing that could possibly go wrong with that,” I mutter. Cancer, third degree burns, outright incineration…
“Well, I guess you could get cancer,” Val teases, her insight power stepping in for her lack of telepathy. “But seriously, don’t worry.” She presses her warm hands at the base of my neck and gently massages the kinks. She adds a few tiny pricks of electricity, and I murmur contentedly. “It only hurts for a minute,” she says, “and I think it depends on your powers. I almost ended up with a lip piercing.” She sticks out her tongue and I laugh. She hadn’t expected the fang mutation to increase. “It was more painful for Benjamin than me.”
If there’s one thing I’d heard over and over about her initiation, it was Benjamin’s complaints that Val’s powers knew instinctively who was behind the “attack.” Since he’s a spirit, her electricity power not only knocked him unconscious, it knocked him back into his artifacts—the pendants he made—which were responsible for the radiation.
A knock sounds at our door and, at my thought, the door slides open. Stuart stands dressed in his crisp, black butler suit with the rising sun cog pinned to his chest.
“My lady. Timothy.” He bows to each of us in turn. “It is time.”
“Thank you.” Val examines me once more, and then kisses me. Her soft breath warms my nose and cheeks. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispers. She readjusts the light bulb charm around my neck to sit evenly against the zipper, then squeezes my hand and follows Stuart out the door.
I take one last glance at the mirror. Time to leave my past behind. I take a deep breath. The shimmering light of my uniform cascades from my neck to my feet, and then softly fades to a faint twinkle. I leave the fiber optics chip on that setting. Efficiency isn’t complicated. It’s subtle. That’s how I’ll keep my appearance.
Compared to the rest of the sterile facility with its plain, silvery corridors, this lavish room is obviously influenced by Camaraderie leadership. The interior walls are paneled with deep mahogany. The wooden floor is covered by a large, square rug which bears the Lady of the Cog symbol: the rising sun half-cog with the naked lady silhouette perched above it. A crystal chandelier crowns the room, casting rainbows against oil paintings and onto the velvet cushions with ornate patterns that compliment the Victorian-era furniture. The odd thing about the room, which is normally used for ambassadorial meetings, is that the furniture has been pushed against the walls to leave a single, open space in the center. The oak door is locked behind us, and when I mentally check the security cameras from the outside corridor, I see a pair of agents posted at the door.
This is a private ceremony.
“Are you ready, Master Zaytsev?” Lady Black clasps her hands in front of her, smiling. She’s almost as tall as the commander, slender but strong, with long, black hair that spills over her shoulders. Despite her low-cut, navy dress of crushed velvet that enhances her curves, my eyes drift to her diamond pendant. In a moment, she’ll attach that pendant to the other four pendants, and I really, really hope this isn’t painful.
But becoming one of the four council members is probably the best thing I can do to really help the Community. I’ll be able to put my programming skills to good use, maybe even lead my own team to troubleshoot all the problem spots that currently plague the various systems.
A few minutes of pain should be like getting a shot. Unpleasant, but necessary.
I nod to Lady Black and take some reassurance from Val’s smile, but my knees are going to give out on me at any moment. I go to stand in the center of the room. “I’m ready.”
“Very well. Benjamin?” Commander Rick, formally dressed for the occasion with a uniform full of brass, motions to the spirit in the corner. Benjamin’s sharp features glow a faint blue. His crisp sleeves are rolled past his elbows, and he wears a work apron over his shirt. His pockets are filled with small tools that may or may not be apparition. He’s odd like that. Sometimes he only manifests the appearance of a craftsman, while at other times, the tools are actually present.
Most noticeable, however, are his wire frame spectacles, green eyes, and his spiky, dark red hair, their colors prominent even with the lack of color across the rest of his translucent body. He’s also got a slightly mad gleam in his eye, though my encounters with the man suggest he’s mostly sane.
Benjamin grins and soundlessly claps his hands. Wonderful! Shall I take amber or emerald? His thoughts echo in my head with the determined curiosity that his voice might have held in life, and he turns to Stuart for the pendant in question. The servant holds a small, ornate box. A few tiny jewels encrust the case, but the rounded top has peeling, yellow glue from a missing shield.
Stuart inclines his head. “My lady?”
“The emerald one,” Lady Black says simply, and Benjamin twists his lips for a fleeting second before smiling again. The pendant floats telekinetically to his translucent fingers, and I shift nervously. I wouldn’t put it past him to swap the order of the pendants. He lives—as much as a spirit can be alive—for the thrill of experimentation. While he avoided Lady Winters as much as anyone, he was quick to jump onto her Legion Spore project. I worked with him then, coding the Legion Spore and figuring out how the powers could work together in the confines of a program.
“You’ll be fine,” Val mouths when no one is looking.
Easy for her to say; she hasn’t dealt with the spirit as often as I have. But I let out a soft breath. In all reality, Benjamin isn’t likely to hurt me, not without the commander’s permission. He relies on the Camaraderie to keep his artifact secure, and to reset the pendants if he loses form—like the time when Val accidently zapped him.
Commander Rick motions for my attention. The council members organize themselves in a semicircle, the pendants between them. Stuart extends his hand, and the amber pendant hovers telekinetically above the rest. Benjamin does the same. Commander Rick glances at me, his face stern.”All right, Benjamin. Proceed.”
Benjamin pushes his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. My lady, please produce your pendant.
Lady Black unfastens the diamond amulet from her neck and holds the chain at arm’s length. Diamond for life balance. Beginning and end.
The spirit angles his em
erald pendant, for the growth of powers, below the first, and then slips the tiny hooks framing the pendant through the loops of the other.
Sparkles? Benjamin eyes Val warily, but she ignores his look as she connects the hooks and loops of her ruby pendant—energy—into the chain. The commander steps forward, attaching the sapphire pendant—creation.
My heart pounds in my throat. I clasp my hands against my side. I need to stand tall. I can’t let them know I’m scared. This might be the last room I see if the initiation goes wrong.
Stuart? Benjamin asks.
The servant fixes his pale eyes on me. “Of course.” He lowers his hand. The amber pendant, which binds the powers, effortlessly slides onto the loops of the last pendant, forming an “S.” Light gushes from the pendants. I’m hit with an illuminated force. I gasp, eyes watering. Everything’s blindingly white. I can’t see—I grab at the fringes of the rug, wrapping my fingers through the yarn. My muscles scream and my head burns. My whole body aches, like hundreds of needles pricking my skin. I crane my head away from the pendants and their burning light. Air—my chest feels like a toughness beast collapsed on top of me. How did Val stand this? Maybe I’m just pain intolerant, maybe—
The pain subsides, leaving me slumped against the rug. I take short, gasping breaths. Binary code roars through the walls, a harsh flittering of code, programming, and little connections. Everything is so loud… the EYEtoEYE tech of the Special Forces agents outside our door, the tablet from my room across the base, the signals from cell phones colliding within each other…
I stare at the floor, breathing hard, trying to keep up with everything. There’s something else. A whisper in the code. I try wrench away from it, to bring my mind back to the present, but my enhanced techno sight is locked on a central room of large capacity. I know instinctively it’s the site of a hub.
A very, very large hub.
“Tim?” Val’s hesitant voice drifts through my blinded vision, and I sort-of see her kneel beside me. I must look like a fool. I can’t even withstand alchemical radiation. Can’t—
I’ve never thought about how the pendants worked. Just that they did. I rub my eyes. Everything feels clearer, despite the noise, as if I can solve a relatively complex problem in a matter of hours, not days. At least, I could if all the whispers and the ones and zeroes and snippets of programs would settle down. But in the background, if I focus too much on the quiet, whispers permeate the walls, running along the wireless pathways throughout the building. A hub cries for attention, radiating pain. It’s a mess of code I can’t place, though it feels altogether familiar. Hairs rise on the back of my neck. I felt it before, outside the experimental sector. Judging from the location of this “hub” on the map…
Focus on my voice. Stuart’s thoughts break through the clamor and everything else quiets, like turning down the volume on a large set of speakers. I take a deep breath as the tension I didn’t realize I had dissolves and I’m finally able to concentrate. Now that your powers are enhanced, you will be more sensitive to the technology around you. If you have trouble adjusting, talk to one of us. I’ll bring back your senses one at a time, that way you can keep track of everything around you. Focus on each change, and this will help you adjust.
I bob my head, perplexed that he was able to zone everything out so quickly, but then, he is one of the stronger telepaths around here. The presence of technology around me returns, and I can pick apart the security cameras and tablets and computers with ease. Then the EYEtoEYE tech. I feel the pings of communication, and I might be able to connect into the network, but I’m not quite ready to try. Then the cell phones return, and the individual code being sent across the base, but it feels like subtle layers, not the jumbled mess that hit me right after my powers were enhanced. A soothing coolness washes over me, removing the last sensations of pain from the radiation, and then a pair of arms lift me, holding me until I steady myself. I vaguely make out the outline of Commander Rick’s beard a few centimeters in front of me.
“Are you all right, Master Zaytsev?”
I grin. I see the outline of his hand in my washed-out vision as he offers it to shake it, and behind him, Val beams with her own happy radiance.
“I’ve never felt better,” I say honestly. I smile at Stuart, thankful for his mental assistance.
You may still have moments when your powers spike, he notes, but I have done what I can to make the transition smoother.
The commander’s mustache twitches into the shape of a smile. “Welcome to the Camaraderie.” He wraps my hand in his and gives it a firm shake.
I open my mouth to say thanks, and the whispers return in full force, nagging at my mind. I frown. It’s technically none of my business, but given how much work I put into the programming, I want to know. “Is the Legion Spore in section 4A of the building?”
Officially, I’m not supposed to know which room of the experimental sector houses the Legion Spore, though it’s not hard to guess, given the sheer size the room has to be in order to house the vessel.
The commander’s lips press into a firm line. “The Legion Spore can’t be traced.”
That’s what I’d thought, too. But now that my powers are enhanced… “I can feel it,” I say. The commander rubs his chin, no hint of anger. “It’s not strong, but it’s not right, either. Something didn’t align properly and the organic intelligence matrix is a mess.”
“Interesting,” Commander Rick murmurs. “Well, why don’t we have a look?” He pats my back. “I think it’s time to introduce you to the CLS Legion Spore.”
After the ceremony room is reorganized from the initiation, Val tells me I’ll do fine with the Legion Spore, and that if anyone can figure out how to work with the vessel, it’s me. I’m not so sure. I’ve hardly had a chance to acclimate to the adjustment of my powers. Though Stuart’s involvement helped, every command looping through this base and every bit of data is just a bit too loud in my head, as if one of the rebels turned up their video game’s sound too high.
As Commander Rick leads me through the facility’s gleaming corridors, the noise gets worse. I feel fear inside the walls.
But how can a computer feel fear?
Commander Rick comes to a halt in the basement of section 4A, the experimental sector, a six-story segment added to the facility for the single purpose of creating the Legion Spore. The pair of Special Forces agents who salute us don’t seem to notice my discomfort. I focus on the technology, trying to place the subtle waves of pain, and then feel the pattern Commander Rick keys into the pad by a plain metal door. A tiny bulb flashes green as he presses his thumb against the scanner. The code that defines his thumbprint pops into my mind. I could easily hack the door—not that I plan to—but I’m tempted to test the newfound strength of my power.
Commander Rick’s lips form a tight smile. “You will have your own personal code input into the system for official business, regardless of if you plan to use one.”
Heat creeps to my face. He’s a telepath. Now that I’m in a position of power, I should really learn to block my thoughts.
“Agreed.” Commander Rick readjusts his safari hat, then presses the “open” key. The thick door slides into the wall, revealing a tiny room with a single LED blinking above us. I step inside. The door slides shut.
“I must warn you, the nature of the Legion Spore is grotesque,” Commander Rick says, though I have an idea of what it will look like. He ponders for a moment, his bushy white eyebrows narrowed in concentration, and adds, “Lady Winters,” as if her involvement explains everything.
It does.
“Well, m’boy, let us proceed.” The door opens to a bright, tall room. I breathe sharply. The Legion Spore is ugly. There’s something awkward about the mess of pink tentacles dangling beneath the Legion Spore’s fleshy, bulbous body. It’s three stories of dark red mass, lumpy and half-formed, and will be another five stories tall when the thin membrane of skin marking its air sac is infl
ated above its strange, wormy fringe of tentacles. Purple-pink fins softly ripple above the air sac and glow under the blue light of LEDs. The creature breathes of technology. There are two hub columns within the structure, each radiating from the center of the vessel, but this construction is different from the other hubs I’ve encountered. Unlike most hubs, which are focused on communication and minimal defensive tactics, the airship has powers capable of offense. There’s a command center at the bow where the Legion Spore’s fleshy hull is split by several thick, acrylic glass windows. Multiple shapeshifters form the hull of this ship, living people whose memories were wiped and minds programmed into a single working entity. My stomach roils, and I swallow hard to keep my lunch down.
“What do you think?” the commander asks, though I’m pretty sure he can already tell.
As long as I don’t think about it, I’ll be fine. I have to be, if I want to keep my new job. I force a smile. “Impressive.”
The Legion Spore’s technology calls me, luring me to reach out and connect with it, but my gut instinct says there are enough minds in this contraption already. Fifty-some human and beast components, all connected by technology.
“Actually,” the commander says, “that’s precisely what I want you to do. While the Legion Spore is self-sufficient, there are still a few kinks which need to be resolved. Lady Winters was the original operator. However, her recent death leaves the position in need of a replacement.”
“Sir… no offense, but am I really the best qualified—”
“Yes.” His taut expression remains focused on the enormous hub. A command airship, first of its kind. “The vessel needs someone with telepathy, beast mastery, or techno sight, who can ensure the programmed functions run as desired.”
I ball my hands into fists and shove them into my pockets. My uniform spikes with light as my newly-enhanced powers overreact. “I apologize, sir. I am still thinking like… Community.”
