Conquering His Captive

by Ivy Barrett

  Mal Ton nodded. “Sarah is Sean’s sister.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Her mutation is becoming unstable.” His gaze returned to the leaping flames, anxiety etched upon his features. “We’ve all gone through it at one time or another. The cycle is different for everyone.”

  “What cycle do you mean?”

  “Those who survive the onset illness develop their initial mutation and then—”

  “Initial mutation? That’s inaccurate for a couple of reasons. First not everyone who is infected by the virus mutates and second the word ‘initial’ indicates that people mutate more than once.”

  Mal Ton leaned his shoulder against the wide mantelpiece and studied her. “The phrase might be inaccurate on Protaria where people have access to the best medical care money can buy. On Stilox and in the slums of Old Towne the situation is very different.”

  “Are you inferring every person infected by the virus suffers some form of mutation?” She pushed to her feet, unable to sit still. Countless conversations echoed through her mind, passionate debates she’d refused to consider seriously.

  “There was no inference in my statement,” Mal Ton stressed. “Only a small percentage of the mutations result in paranormal abilities, but every person without access to Protarian treatments is irreversibly changed by the virus.”

  Allen Lansky, her occasional lab partner, would be so pleased to learn his theories were correct. Allen had insisted the mutations were far more widespread than the Protarian government was willing to admit. His evidence had been dismissed and his theories disregarded, irrevocably damaging his professional reputation.

  Reeling from the casual revelation, she chose her words carefully. “You mentioned a cycle of destabilization. What does that mean?”

  “For most of us it happens every seven years. It’s like a disease going in and out of remission. While the mutation is in remission the person’s abilities remain the same and their health is stable.”

  “What happens when the mutation becomes active again?” She didn’t really need to ask. The resurgence of any disease was often more virulent than the onset illness.

  “Each case is different. The person can develop new abilities, their existing abilities can become significantly stronger or they can simply… succumb. There’s no way to predict the outcome.”

  He might have been reading one of Allen’s reports, his description was so similar. Nausea rolled through her, fueled by shame and regret. “There’s no treatment? Each person just endures the changes and hopes for the best?”

  “Andrea engineered a counteragent that has been helpful in some cases. Fane responded to the formula incredibly well.” He glanced at her as he added, “Sarah isn’t so fortunate. We don’t know what else to do for her.”

  The pain in his expression clawed at Cassie’s heart. Mal Ton and Fane had watched this cycle for centuries, helpless to change the outcome despite their preternatural abilities. It was amazing they could still feel anything at all.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Her mouth was so dry she struggled to form the question.

  “You tell me. Sarah barely survived the onset illness. The mutation left her physically deformed but opened her mind to prophetic visions. Ostan, Fane’s physician, has done everything he can. Our strongest psychic healer has only been able to slow the mutation’s progress temporarily.”

  “May I see her scans?”

  “You’ll have to ask Fane.” Mal Ton shrugged, his nonchalance seeming a bit affected. “You’re in his territory now.”

  Fane returned a few minutes later, his angular features tense, gaze troubled. Seeing Cassie awake and standing, he offered her an anemic smile. “Welcome to my humble domain. I’ll try to make your stay as pleasant as possible.”

  “How is Sarah?” she asked as he stepped up beside her.

  He glanced at Mal Ton, displeasure obvious in his expression. “Why did you tell her about Sarah?”

  “I know Ostan said she’s stabilized, but I can barely sense her. Something has to be done soon or we’ll lose her.”

  Sensing Fane’s emotions seething beyond his mental shield, she insinuated herself into the budding argument. “I don’t know if there is anything I can do to help, but I’d be willing to look at her scans.”

  Fane paused and took a deep breath, composing his expression. “I’m sure Ostan would welcome your input.” He guided her across the dimly lit room, Mal Ton following in their wake. A stone staircase descended into the bowels of the Underground. The lower levels were better maintained and equipped with technological advancements absent in the dilapidated hotel.

  Ostan greeted them as they entered the clinic. His bright auburn hair and pearlescent skin provided a stark contrast for his ink black eyes. The jutting angle of his cheekbones accented his wide brow, making his face appear triangular. She was starting to understand what “changed” and “irreversibly mutated” meant.

  The infirmary was far better equipped than Cassie expected but rather crude by Protarian standards. Sarah’s slight form had been draped with a sheet and an opaque veil obscured her face, leaving only her eyes visible. Mal Ton had mentioned a physical deformity, so Cassie focused on the readouts and displays.

  “Was her coma spontaneous or induced?” she asked Ostan.

  “I had no choice. There was continual synaptic activity emanating from the basal ganglia. The area began to calcify and—”

  “It wasn’t an accusation.” She smiled, hoping the gesture would lessen his defensiveness. “I’m just trying to understand the situation. When did she fall ill?”

  “She began complaining of headaches after the vision that led us to Lorelle,” Fane told her. “But her condition deteriorated rapidly over the past three days. Nothing we’ve tried has had any significant effect.”

  Cassie paused to study the information Ostan had supplied. He’d run every test she could think of and more. Despite her work with the counteragent, genetic mutation really wasn’t her area of expertise. “I can’t help her, but I know who can.”

  “Go on,” Fane prompted.

  “I worked with a man named Allen Lansky on the counteragent. Father generally isolates anyone working on one of his projects, but a new outbreak of the virus forced him to forgo the precaution. Allen discovered several things about the virus that Father didn’t want to hear. One of Allen’s discoveries was the mutation cycle Mal Ton described to me.”

  Fane looked at Mal Ton. “What do you know about Lansky?”

  “I’ve heard the name, but I don’t know much about him.”

  “Even after our joint project ended, we exchanged information, discreetly keeping each other informed on our respective progress. He’ll welcome the opportunity to prove his theories and I know I can trust him,” Cassie insisted.

  “Trust him to do what?” Fane narrowed his gaze. “Why would he help us?”

  “Allen’s hypothesis was met with disbelief and scorn. My father made sure of it. The discoveries my father wanted to keep, he attributed to me. The rest were rejected as folly. Allen’s become somewhat of a joke in the scientific community. He’ll see this as an opportunity to regain his reputation.” She intentionally avoided her own motivation. Allen came up through the ranks of the military until his achievements caught the eye of General Bryson. Allen’s combat background would come in handy when it came time to escape.

  The thought brought her mental tangent grinding to a halt. Did she still intend to escape? Her emotions were so convoluted she wasn’t sure how to see herself anymore. At the very least Allen’s presence would give her options.

  “If your father made Allen look like a fool,” Mal Ton persisted, “why does Allen still work for him?”

  “My father controls research and development on all of Protaria. Any scientist who wants to utilize their skills doesn’t really have a choice.”

  “Where can we find Allen Lansky?” Fane asked.


  “There’s no need for subterfuge. Just let me talk to him. I can convince him to help us.”

  Mal Ton laughed. “We haven’t lived this long by taking unnecessary chances. We’ll bring him here and you can explain what you need from him.”

  “I need my personal directory downloaded to a DPU.” Without an interface sequencer she was dead in the water, unable to alter the programming of anyone’s nanites, even her own.

  “You said you’ve been exchanging information with Lansky,” Fane reminded. “How much of your data does he possess?”

  She fidgeted, annoyed by Fane’s perceptiveness. “Most of it.” Her apartment building, lab, and computer access points were doubtlessly under surveillance.

  “And will he have the application you need to reprogram nanites?” Fane asked.

  “Yes,” she grumbled as the opportunity to slip a message beyond the Underground faded from view.

  “Then we’ll make sure Allen brings his DPU. You’ll have what you need to get started and we won’t risk setting off any alarms along the way.”

  * * *

  Nehalem absorbed the shuttle’s vibration and tried to relax. Her adventures in Old Towne Sanctum had become largely routine. She fucked whichever mutant her husband pointed out and used Bryson’s jealousy to keep herself focused. The mutants used her body while she drained their energy. It was an even exchange and it drove her husband crazy. Bryson still desired her despite his outward disdain, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until he lost control and acted upon that hunger.

  This mission was more intimidating than their trips to Old Towne. They were on their way to Saronta, a leisure moon with no political affiliation. A potential buyer for Chrysalis One had requested a demonstration. Howyn hadn’t wanted Bryson exposed, so he’d suggested she interact with the buyer instead. She couldn’t let herself analyze the situation or she’d be paralyzed by fear. Howyn might consider her expendable, but she’d reawakened Bryson’s interest—his interest in her body at least.

  She’d dressed carefully, her outfit far different from the provocative garments she usually wore. The impeccably tailored suit outlined her form without overtly displaying her assets. Without her sexual appeal, she felt vulnerable and powerless. And they were about to send her into the lion’s den.

  Crossing her legs with an audible sigh, she watched to see if any of Bryson’s men glanced her way. The pilot and navigator’s chairs faced forward while parallel benches provided seating for everyone else. The two soldiers in the cockpit were occupied with flying the ship, but the two flanking her husband should have been tempted by her understated sensuality. Instead they stared straight ahead, their features locked in expressionless masks.

  “If this goes off without a hitch, I’ll let you entertain us on the way back.” Bryson’s tone was dry and impatient, adding to her restlessness.

  “And if this doesn’t go off as planned?” If she’d had any other option, she would have refused Howyn outright. At least with the mutants she had some measure of control.

  “Pull yourself together,” Bryson snapped. “He’ll sense your fear.”

  “What person in their right mind wouldn’t be frightened by this situation?”

  “Opton is going with you and we’ll monitor every move you make. This is a business meeting, nothing more.”

  They arrived on Saronta a short time later, wending their way through casinos and pleasure resorts until they found their destination. She shifted the long strap on her shoulder bag so it crossed her chest and climbed down from the shuttle. Opton descended two steps behind her, a silent reminder that she wasn’t alone. Colored lights gleamed all around her, hypnotizing and surreal. She waved away the robotic bellhop and produced a haughty expression as she headed for the main entrance to the posh hotel.

  “Room 614.” Bryson’s voice arrived courtesy of a subdermal transceiver. The tiny device also allowed him to track her location and hear anything she said.

  “Got it.” She headed for the elevator bank across the spacious lobby and took the first available car to the sixth floor. A domestabot opened the door for Nehalem and motioned her inside the luxurious suite. Opton ducked into the room half a second before the robot shut the door in his face. Taking up a position along the perimeter wall, Opton assessed the scene without being intrusive.

  Bryson had warned Nehalem the buyer wasn’t humanoid. Still, the holoimage hadn’t captured the sheer foreignness of the creature awaiting her. Shae Milleepon sat on the sofa, his large round eyes staring at her with unblinking curiosity. Though his entire body was covered with amber fur, Shae wore a quilted robe of scarlet and gold. He was about the size of a five-year-old humanoid and his tendency to swing his feet… er, paws made it impossible not to notice that they didn’t reach the floor. His narrow head tilted one way and then the other like an animatronic teddy bear. How the hell was she supposed to take this seriously?

  A humanoid female knelt on the floor in front of the sofa, head bowed, hands folded neatly in her lap. She wore a robe similar in color and cut to Shae Milleepon’s. Straight white-blonde hair fell forward, concealing her features. “I speak for the Shae,” the girl said without looking up. “Address your comments to him and proceed as if I were not here.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Shae Milleepon.” Was Shae his title or his name? Bryson hadn’t coached her on protocol. Should she kneel or offer her hand?

  “Please be seated.” Shae motioned toward the chair facing him, but the words emanated from the girl. This was going to be interesting. Nehalem unfastened the strap on her bag before she took her seat. Before she could summon an appropriate opening for her presentation, Shae went on. “I was disappointed when Harold notified me that he was sending his agent. I was looking forward to meeting Harold face-to-face.”

  Harold didn’t exist, of course. Everything had been arranged so Bryson and Howyn would have complete deniability. “I hope our product will lessen your disappointment.”

  “I’m ready for the demonstration,” Shae said through the girl. “Please proceed.”

  “May I approach? You need to be able to see the display.”

  “Of course.”

  She opened her bag and dug out a DPU, unfolding the slim case as she crossed the floor. “This is a live feed of Chrysalis One.” She angled the display so Shae could see both screens. One side displayed a human female in casual civilian clothes, standing in the middle of a holding cell. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and her blue eyes were void of any emotion. “The weapon has been prepped and is ready for your order. Here is a list of the powers available for upload.” She pointed to the other screen. “Each ability is rated according to its demands on the system. Chrysalis One has a maximum capacity of twenty, so you are welcome to mix and match the abilities as long as the combined ratings never top twenty.”

  “Telekinesis is rated eight and empathy is rated four, so those two abilities can be uploaded at the same time?”

  “That only brings your total to twelve,” Nehalem said with an uneasy smile. “You could select a third skill as long as the rating is eight or less.”

  “Fascinating.” Shae hopped down from the sofa and stared at the list of abilities. “Upload telekinesis and physical strength. Both should be easy to demonstrate.”

  “All right.” Nehalem turned to the other screen and said, “Chrysalis One, upload canisters four and six.”

  Chrysalis One moved across the small room, camera following her progress. A row of metal canisters were arranged in a rack on a table at her left. She twisted off one of the lids and thrust her hand into the gelatinous goo contained within the canister.

  “What is that substance?” Shae wanted to know.

  “Nonspecific biological… I’m not sure what it’s called. The gel holds energy in a sort of suspension until it’s needed. Once a Chrysalis has uploaded the ability, it only stays viable for seventy-two hours.”

  “And how long can
it be maintained within the canisters?”

  “A year, perhaps longer.” Nehalem had been thrilled when Bryson filled her in on the project. It had been wonderful to be included in their plans. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling she had been thrown to the wolves—or the teddy bears in this case.

  They watched as Chrysalis One uploaded the other ability, sparks and illuminated lines streaking up her arm. “Please have the weapon demonstrate her strength,” Shae prompted.

  “Chrysalis One, disarm your guards and destroy their weapons.”

  With little outward effort, Chrysalis One rushed the men stationed on either side of the door. She threw one across the room and drove the other to the floor with a vicious shoulder chop from her forearm. She snatched his rifle from his limp hands and turned toward the camera, bending the bentine alloy with her bare hands.

  “Impressive,” Shae muttered as the second guard’s weapon received the same treatment.

  “Chrysalis One, use your mind to move one of your guards to the far corner.”

  Telekinetics was no more taxing than bending bentine alloy. Chrysalis One stood near the center of the room with her hands clasped behind her back. She looked at one guard and his unconscious body rose into the air. With a jerk of her head, she sent him soaring across the room. He landed in a heap in the far corner just as Nehalem had requested.

  “Do you have prototypes for any other species?”

  They had only just attained functionality with the human prototype. Apparently the teddy bear didn’t realize Project Chrysalis was brand new. “I don’t believe so, but I’ll check with Harold.”

  The room fell silent as Shae studied the list of abilities. “I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far. Your prototype performs as well as you promised—in a controlled setting. I still need to see her in a real-world situation.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “There is an exclusive gala in Sanctum at the end of the week. I hadn’t planned to attend, but I still have my invitation. This is the sort of situation where the Chrysalis will be most valuable, in my estimation. I’ll send the details to Harold.”