The Controller (The Securus Trilogy Book 2)

by Anthony Maldonado

  He sees in my expression I do not believe a word he said, but does not explain further. If anything, he seems to find my confusion amusing. That’s more like the Cale I know, I think to myself. He is definitely hiding something. Whatever it is, he is even keeping it from his own allies. Only two explanations make any sense to me. Either he thinks we are unintentionally playing to his hand, or Talia really got to him. Since my inquiry gets nowhere, I decide to change tactics.

  “I’m going to visit your old buddy in the Detention Center later today. Any message you want me to deliver to Aamon?” I cringe from the thought of what needs to be done. Even though Cale tries to keep himself distanced from Aamon now, he used to be one of his supporters before everything happened. I am hoping bringing it up will throw him off balance.

  “No, he has to live with the consequences of his own decisions, as do we all.” Cale gives me a purposeful stare before walking away. Unfortunately, he is much more calm and thoughtful than Aamon ever was.

  With Cale gone, I notice Wakil was watching us from a distance. He wants to see if I have an answer for Cale’s behavior. I shrug my shoulders to answer his silent question. Even so, Cale’s usual fire remains evident underneath his newly restrained exterior. He has not changed at all. How long he manages to stay passive is the only real question.

  As much as I hate these meetings, this time I wish it would have kept going. The team Talia set up is already checking for any more of the boxes and the research workers are handling all the testing required for the Pellagra cases, so that leaves me with the chance to do something I would much rather avoid. Just the thought of going to the Detention Center is distressing enough, let alone knowing I will be greeted by Aamon’s disgustingly smug face.

  Chapter 11

  The hallways and stairs are relatively empty as I follow the plain white letters on the wall to my destination. The weird sense of solitude is another haunting reminder of the day that changed everything. Only, there is no lockdown today like there was back then. Even if I wish there was another way, this trip is inevitable, so I may as well get it over with.

  I arrive at our designated meeting place to find Janae pacing back and forth while waiting for me. Being the primary Leadership member involved with the trials means she cannot escape this trip either. Janae nervously readjusts her glasses and pushes back strands of her short cropped hair as she notices my arrival. Very few of us have ever been to the Detention Center, and it seems the coming trip is getting to her.

  Even though the Detention Center is located on the lowest level of Securus, we take the stairs. The descent into the depths feels both too fast and too slow at the same time. The whole way we are both completely silent. My thoughts are occupied, and speaking any words feels as though they would make things worse. As we near the bottom level, I check my pocket, hoping my data recorder was forgotten so we would have a reason to delay the trip. Unfortunately, my hand finds the device, leaving nothing to stop us from continuing.

  I open the door and step into the dim hallway. The only light comes from a track lining the sides of the floor, casting an eerie glow on the path. Because so few people come through here, it would be a waste of electricity to light this corridor as much as the rest of Securus.

  After rounding the corner, the lights brighten as outer door draws near. Two Guards monitor the entrance and though our trip is expected, they demand our identification. When they are satisfied, the steel door is opened. Walking inside feels like passing through a portal to another world. The air is humid and dense, making it difficult to breathe. We continue down a long hallway leading to a small control room manned by a lone Guard. The image of my father being kept alone in the shadows of this grim place plagues my mind.

  The path abruptly narrows as we move forward, barely leaving enough room for us to walk in single file. The constricting walls feel like they are intentionally closing in on us as we go further in, preventing an escape. The more we walk, the harder it feels to breathe. The corridor swirls in my vision. This place is intentionally trying to smother us. Panic takes hold. My balance fails, sending me stumbling against the wall. The jolt snaps my mental spiral, helping me regain control. Behind me, Janae watches my reaction, but says nothing. Instead, she patiently waits to follow my lead. The look on her face makes me think she is hoping I will ask to turn back.

  I take a deep breath and slowly exhale, attempting to prevent hyperventilation. Once the dizziness recedes, we step into the control room. The man inside looks up at us, diverting his attention from something hidden beneath the desktop. If we were anywhere else I would question what he was doing, but this must be a lonely post. He needs some way to pass the time.

  Even with knowing Securus has very little deviation in its structural design, seeing this area look like a normal control room feels surprising. On the top of his desk are a few monitors showing vacant hallways in the same green hue I have seen from the security feeds above ground at night. Next to these screens are a handful of electrical readouts for monitoring the different systems used to control the Detention Center.

  “Kagen, Janae, we’ve been expecting you,” the Guard says with a surprising amount of enthusiasm I his voice. “So, is this your first time in the Detention Center?”

  He obviously does not get many visitors during his shifts. Being in no mood for small talk, I ignore the question. “Is this where we’ll be interviewing the occupants?”

  The Guard takes the hint. “Both of the occupants you want to see are in the deep hold. You’ll need to go further down this hallway, to the very end. Take the stairs one more flight down. At the bottom, there’s another control room like this one. Ettor will direct you where to go when you get there.”

  I nod at him and force my legs to move. There are not many people in the Detention Center now, and I wish we could get rid of it altogether. But there are a few people remaining we cannot let go free. Some of the old Leadership members who were directly involved with keeping Securus under Caelum’s control are on this level. What to do with them if we realize our dream of freedom is something we will debate when the time comes. All of the other occupants have either finished their stay, or in the case of a few others, been released early because the initial trials determined their invitation was not justified.

  The lights are turned on as we walk down the hallway, revealing the individual cells as we pass. Through a small portal in the doors, a faint light becomes visible inside the rooms, keeping the occupants from constant darkness. We are unable to see the occupants from here, but hear whimpers of broken men and women lamenting their fate. Though they deserve this and so much worse, it is hard not to feel for them. No person should have to endure this place, especially innocent people like my father. I take some solace in knowing we have already released those who did not truly earn this fate.

  The temperature drops significantly as we reach the stairway, and gets even colder on the lowest level. Outside the stairwell are two nearby doorways, with a light on in the first. We enter the lighted control room where the other Guard, Ettor, waits for us. He does not look like a typical Guard. His uniform lacks a hat or helmet, which reveals his unusually long hair. Sitting alone, a detached look covers his face, as if his mind is far away in a more pleasant place.

  “Welcome, Kagen and Janae,” he says directing us to sit across from him.

  Rounding the small desk to get to my chair, I notice his setup is nearly identical to the one the previous Guard had. I also catch a glimpse of a small screen barely visible underneath the desk. On it flashes some sort of game. That must be how they pass the time and distract themselves from these repulsive surroundings.

  “Ettor, I want to get this over with as quickly as possible,” I say, wanting to skip the pleasantries.

  “I understand. No one wants to be in here for long. Just be happy you didn’t have to come before Ms. Vaden appointed the new overseer. At least now we only hear occasional whimpering instead of the constant screams,” he says with a blan
k stare. “I cleaned up the activity area so you can talk to them in there, unless you’d rather see them in their individual cells?”

  “No, the activity room is fine. Let’s start with Ardal,” I tell him.

  “Okay, right this way.” He leads us into the hallway then through the second door. “Wait here. I’ll get him.”

  “This space is weird,” Janae says absently as she surveys the unorganized room.

  We are used to everything in Securus having a clear purpose, so the lack of cohesion stands out. There are a few pieces of exercise equipment off to one side and a desk with a computer on the other. In between are a few puzzles meant to be children’s toys. My guess is these are all recent additions. I doubt the prior overseer put much value in these kinds of small amenities for the occupants.

  “I think that’s because it had a very different purpose in the past,” I tell her while setting up some chairs around a table for us to interview Ardal and Aamon. Janae’s confused look turns horrified when she realizes what I am implying.

  I place the recorder on the table and turn to face the door, waiting for Ettor to return. My wandering eyes notice the base of the table in front of us is welded to the floor. I do not want to think of what they used to do on this surface that required it to be so sturdy.

  The sound of shuffling footsteps and dragging chains slowly draw near. Ettor leads Ardal into the room then secures his shackles to the table. Ardal was already a frail looking man before with his pale skin, thin build, and overly dark hair, but now he is downright ghostly. He stares at the table with rings under his eyes and a vagrant indifference in his expression. If he had not tried to kill me, I might actually feel sorry for him.

  “Is this man being fed enough?” Janae asks Ettor.

  “He hasn’t lost any weight,” he assures her.

  “I agree, he doesn’t look thinner, only less spirited,” I say, keeping my stare fixed on him. Ardal does not look me in the eye, but does look up long enough to see who sits next to me before tilting his head back down toward the table.

  “What do you want? To gloat?” he asks.

  “No, we’re here to inform you of the changes to the Detention Center invitation protocol,” I tell him.

  “We’re reviewing all occupants to determine if their stay is justified and for how long their invitation will stand,” Janae explains. He looks up at us with a trace of hope that is crushed when his eyes again meet mine. Ardal knows what he tried to do and that I will not let his actions be forgotten.

  “What’s the point? We already know what’s going to happen. I’m never getting out of here,” he mumbles.

  “The point is Leadership will no longer have absolute power to abuse this place,” Janae says while activating the audio recorder.

  “Fine, what do you want to know?” he asks.

  “Let’s start with who recruited you and how they motivated you to participate,” I say, already knowing the answer.

  “We both know it was Aamon. As far as I know, everything was all his idea. He told us you were attempting to overthrow Leadership,” he explains.

  “Us?” Janae asks.

  “Balum and I,” he answers. “He recruited us for the Solar Panel maintenance detail with the promise that for our help in eliminating the threat we would be given a special clearance to go to Caelum. I hadn’t even known Caelum existed before then, but when he told us about this utopian place where we would no longer be confined underground, it was too good to pass up.”

  Janae and I look at each other. Utopian is not the way we would describe that place even if we know very little of what Caelum is actually like. The only information we do have is its location lies far away from here and they are rumored to have a city being built on the surface. Still, there is nothing idealistic about a place built upon the principles of deceit, inequality, and outright slavery.

  “Did you ever confirm his assertions?” I ask.

  “Why would I? He was a high ranking member of Leadership. What reason would I have to believe he wasn’t being truthful?” Knowing how things turned out, and judging by look on his face, even Ardal realizes how asinine his response sounds.

  “Let’s move on to the assassination attempts,” Janae says. “Tell us about the plans and how they unfolded.”

  I listen in disgust as Ardal details how he used his electronic mastery to turn Eldin’s Grinder into a remote controlled weapon to run me over. When his attempt on my life failed, he was told to wait until he was needed again. After the next attempts proved unsuccessful, Aamon guided him to us as I fought for my life against Balum’s attacks with his spear. It turns out the attack was improvised and not part of the original plan. Janae sits in stunned silence for the rest of the explanation. The more graphic details were glossed over or outright omitted when the events were announced to the entire colony, so this is the first time anyone else has heard the raw truth of their actions.

  As he nears the end of his story, I realize the subtle genius of it. Once again, I have underestimated him. Ardal repeatedly finds ways to shift all of the blame to Aamon. He makes it sound like he was simply following the orders of a superior ranking member of Leadership. Remembering the look in his eyes when he tried to kill me, I know better. Though, his cunning lies make me unsure if everyone else will be able to see through them. One other part makes it more difficult to deny his culpability.

  “What about when you came to Mr. Vaden’s office?” I ask. “Murdering Mr. Vaden isn’t simply following Leadership’s orders.”

  “Aamon told us you were holding both of the Vaden’s hostage and we were attempting to save them. By the time I realized his true intentions, it was too late to stop him. I didn’t resist after Aamon shot Mr. Vaden, remember?” Ardal tries to lift his hands in a surrendering pose to emphasize his point, but the shackles halt the movement.

  I stand up, snarling my response through a clenched jaw. “I remember you trying to kill me. Don’t think for one second I believe any of this nonsense. You only gave up after I shot Balum and you had no other options.”

  The audacity of his attempted deceit tests my composure. Seeing my growing anger, Janae calls for a break. I pace the side of the room next to the exercise equipment. The only thing keeping me sane is remembering Ardal will not be the only one speaking at his review. I will make sure he does not escape responsibility for his actions. While Janae resumes the questioning, I remain detached, no longer interrupting as he spews more clever lies.

  I look around the room, hoping for something to distract me from his duplicity. As I do, a chill fills me. All around are remnants of what this room used to be. The floor has a smooth, easily cleaned surface with a slight pitch leading to a central drain. Above me, a track connected to the ceiling supports a connected harness well suited to hold an unwilling person upright. In the corner stands an aluminum cabinet. Somehow, my body propels me across the room to it despite my mind protesting for me to stop.

  Using the magnetic key in my identification, I open the cabinet, bracing for unknown instruments of torment and torture. Instead, the contents are familiar objects. Inside sits a host of medical equipment, including supplies for initiating an intravenous drip and an automated suture device. The top shelf has some basic antibiotics. Below it, in an organized row, are more specialized surgical tools like the cautery blade used to open flesh while simultaneously keeping bleeding to a minimum. The one thing missing is any anesthetics or pain medications. Even worse, on the bottom shelf are multiple vials of paralytic medications that if given alone, would keep a person completely alert and aware, but unable to move or even breathe on their own. This would keep them undistracted from their torture, and completely unable to escape it.

  In a way this feels even more gruesome than a cabinet full of jagged blades, pliers, hammers, and other torturing devices would. These instruments are meant to save lives. Instead, they were being used to enable prolonged suffering as well as to augment it.

  My head feels light. A dark sha
de surrounds my vision, slowly closing in. I see my father in this room, screaming in vain for help as the overseer tortures him. How many more have had to endure the horrors of this room? I force the cabinet door closed and try to calm myself.

  My hands tingle and a spasm temporarily locks my grip. I recognize the symptoms as an effect of my breathing and think about its physiology to distract my mind. The increased rate depletes more of the carbon dioxide from my system, affecting my blood’s pH balance. The resulting cascade is responsible for the sensation and muscular irritability. Analytical thinking is an automatic defense mechanism I often employ, and right now it helps me calm down. Janae and Ardal both watch me. I stand upright, locking my hands behind me to conceal the tremor.

  “Are we almost done?” I ask Janae calmly.

  “Yeah, I think so. You can fill in the rest of the details later,” Janae answers.

  I nod and without looking at Ardal, leave the room to get Ettor. He is occupied with his game, but stands at attention when I arrive.

  “Time to return this occupant and get the other one,” I tell him, not wanting to feel the distaste of their names on my tongue.

  Chapter 12

  I wait at the door while Ettor unchains Ardal from the table. Seeing Ardal locked back up will do me good. I follow them down the hallway. As we walk, the light from the activity room fades into the distance. Halfway to the end of the corridor, Ettor stops outside Ardal’s cell. Breaking up the outer metal door is a translucent portal to see inside as well as a small opening for food to be passed and shackles applied through.

  Before we lock him away, I check inside of the cell. This area is much smaller than our already cramped quarters on the main levels. The miniscule space contains a hard bed with single blanket on it, a toilet in the corner, and nothing more. A heated light overhead keeps the room from freezing as well as its occupant from constant darkness.