by Simon Archer
“Are you in charge here, or is Achilles?” I asked. The man gave me another cool smile and exchanged a knowing look with another man across the table.
“Achilles is, for now,” he said finally.
“For now?” I repeated, raising my eyebrows.
“Yes, for now,” Casal said again, not bothering to elaborate.
“Right...” I said. “So, there’s discontent in the ranks here.” It wasn’t a question.
No one answered.
“That’s never a good sign for the stability of an organization,” I said simply.
“It worked out for you, didn’t it?” Casal said quietly.
“Touché,” I said. It was interesting that he said that, and I made a mental note of it. If he thought things had worked out okay for TelCorp and me, that had to mean that things had gone well for Semra and the others back on Termina when the troops docked. Otherwise, they’d be taunting me about it, calling TelCorp one of those failed companies, wouldn’t they?
“So, Nic, I’m hoping that we can come to an understanding,” Casal said, leaning forward on the table and crossing his hands together.
“Oh?” I asked, shifting in my chair and raising my eyebrows again. “What’s that?”
“I think that this can be mutually beneficial to us,” he said. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You can’t honestly believe that you can bribe me,” I said, grinning at him. “You haven’t been watching that TV show of yours very closely, have you? I don’t want money. I have more of it than God, anyway. And I don’t want power, either.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” Casal said, barely hiding his disdain for this fact about me. “But I can do far better than money or power.”
“Oh?” I asked again. “How’s that? Can you give me Achilles?” The man exchanged another look with a few of the other board members.
“We can,” he said at long last. “We can allow you to deliver him to Termina. And then we’ll leave Termina alone, except for a few cameras that will continue to broadcast the stories of some people there. But we won’t allow anyone from the outside world to set foot on the island anymore.”
“Even for your illegal bindings?” I asked, carefully gauging his reaction.
“Yes, we thought you might have found out about that,” Casal said, grimacing in such a way that it was clear he had hoped that they were wrong. “But yes, we will not allow any more bindings of that sort. We’ve come to the conclusion that it’s far too risky.”
“Have you?” I asked airily. “Is that why you were hoping I wouldn’t say anything about it?” There was a long moment of silence then.
“You are intuitive,” Casal said cooly. “But yes, we were hoping you had no knowledge of our company’s… extracurricular activities in Termina. But not for the reasons you think. We’ve already halted all operations there and have informed our prospective clients as such.”
“Have you now?” I asked, not buying this for one second. “At the last Tibor Enterprises outlet, when I talked to the man who was in charge there, he said there was a waitlist. And that I could get on it if I wanted to.”
“Yes, we instructed our outlet directors to say that should anyone come knocking after we instituted this new policy,” Casal explained. “We saw that there was a pattern of people coming to the outlets asking for foxgirl bindings and then fleeing before they were ever spoken to. We thought it might be you.”
I studied him closely, looking deep into his eyes, trying to decipher if he was telling the truth. He looked back at me steadily, which never ceased to throw me for a loop. But I couldn’t detect any deception in his gaze, though I could tell that none of this was coming from a place of goodwill. He truly believed that all of this was in the best interest of him and of his company, nothing more, nothing less.
“So you stopped taking clients for bindings in between our last stop at the other continents, I can’t remember which one it was, and our first stop in the Nether?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Casal confirmed. “Mr. Tibor decided after we hadn’t found you for some time that… well, that things were getting out of hand. That we underestimated you, grew reckless over the centuries since the last Great Binder War, given over too much to chance. And clearly, he wasn’t wrong.” Casal waved at the back wall, in the direction of where the holographic army was still terrorizing the citizens of Direfall. His hand trembled slightly, and several of the other men laughed nervously and looked around at each other, slightly panicked.
“So you agree you would’ve been better off had you just left well enough alone,” I said, unable to keep the shadow of a smirk off my face.
“Most likely,” Casal admitted, with a very fake smile on his face, the corner of his mouth trembling much like his hand had. This pained him, I realized. He was virtually admitting that his life’s work was not only for nothing, but had done a great deal of harm to the people of the outside world. Or at least he thought it had.
“Which brings us to your proposal,” I continued. “Which is… what again? That you just send us back where we came from, and we keep letting you watch in on us like a bunch of voyeurs?” Casal’s mouth twitched again, and it was more pronounced this time, but he kept that fake ass smile plastered across his face.
“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “But Termina will be free from outside intervention. No one from the outside world will ever set foot on the island again, unless, of course, someone there finds out about the outside world and attempts to leave.”
“Right, so we’ll just be prisoners again,” I said with a hollow laugh. “No, thanks.”
“We’re… in a position to negotiate,” Casal said slowly. “If you so desire, that is.”
“And what exactly makes you think that we’ll want to negotiate with you?” I asked. “You’re not in a position to negotiate if you hadn’t noticed.” I waved in the direction of the outside wall, much like Casal had except my hand did not shake.
“And yet here we are, attempting it,” Casal said quietly. “We realize that many from your home are now in the know about the outside world. But I don’t believe I’m wrong in assuming that you haven’t gone public yet. And the original generations on Termina had many who knew. They just didn’t tell, didn’t pass that knowledge on. We can do that again, and your people can live in peace and prosperity again, as can ours.”
“And what, exactly, are you willing to negotiate on?” I asked, deciding to humor him. After all, it wouldn’t be long until someone looked at the cameras and saw that all these people who were supposedly in Direfall were in Termina, too. However, they could believe that we had gained control of the cameras there somehow and fed them false information.
“Well, we understand your personal concerns with remaining in Termina given the situation,” Casal, exchanging another look with the man to his right. “Given that, we are willing to extend an olive branch, if you will. We know very well that money and power don’t motivate you, Nic, possibly because you’ve always had both. But we do know that you’re motivated by your fierce concern for your friends and family. Is that not correct?” I swallowed hard. He had me there.
“Yes,” I admitted through gritted teeth. “That is accurate.”
“Very well,” Casal said, and I could tell that he didn’t understand this particular motivation one bit. “Given this, we are prepared to offer you Achilles Tibor to make an example of back in Termina, an island largely free from outside interference, and a life here, in the outside world, for you, your friends here, and their families.”
I have to admit, it stunned me. I hadn’t ever expected that. It took me a moment to collect myself. Judging by the expressions on their faces, my teammates had a similar reaction.
“You can’t be serious,” I said flatly.
“Dead serious,” Casal said, smiling for real this time. “I still don’t know how it is that you avoided detection here, and I do expect you to tell me as a part of this transaction, but
you will be able to continue to use it. We will give you food and housing and anything you may desire. We only ask that you keep to yourselves and not reveal your true identities to anyone.”
“You want us to leave Termina?” Clem butted in, incredulous. “No fucking way! That’s our home.”
“It’s your choice, of course, to stay or to leave,” Casal said, his smile wavering slightly. “You don’t have to come live here if you don’t want to. But the option is there, and will be there should you ever choose to take it. And more importantly, your loved ones will be safe.”
“But what about our city? Our people? We swore to help them, to protect them,” Clem sputtered.
“And you will be,” Casal said, abandoning his attempts at smiling now and turning his sharp gaze on Clem. “You will be keeping people like Achilles Tibor far away from them forever. They’ll be safe from the outside world.”
“Safe!” Clem cried. “That’s not safe! Lying to them isn’t safe! The second someone else figures out about all this, and they will, they won’t be safe anymore.”
“We’ll be taking extra precautions to ensure that that doesn’t happen again,” Casal said plainly. “This is why we’re pulling all operations from the island. You never would’ve found out about any of this if we hadn’t overstepped our bounds.”
“You overstepped your bounds by putting us there in the first place!” Clem cried, banging both his fists down on the table. Kira pressed a hand against his forearm and shook her head, practically begging him with her eyes to calm down. This wasn’t helping, not one bit.
“I know that it may feel that way right now,” Casal said quietly. “But I assure you that we did this with everyone’s safety in mind. We had an option to handle the problem… in other ways, but we chose this. To give you your own society, far away from the rest of the world, where you could be yourselves and live as you pleased. Now, I understand that we’ve… complicated that with our actions, and we’re sorry for that. But that’s why we’re here, looking to negotiate with you.”
“‘In other ways,’” I repeated, my voice sour. “You mean by killing us. That’s what you mean.”
“Or by keeping you locked up until you all died out, or some similar manner of controlling the problem,” Casal said. “But it was decided that that was not the right direction to go, that you deserved a home of your own. And clearly, it worked! For hundreds of years, it worked. And you’re fiercely proud of that home.”
“What did the first generation think about all this?” I asked, voicing a question I’d had for some time. “Why didn’t they tell their children?”
“They knew what would happen if they did,” Casal said simply.
“So you had cameras to keep tabs on them even back then,” I said, feeling my blood start to boil even worse than it already had.
“No, no, no,” Casal said quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t misunderstand me. They understood that should their children know the truth, it was inevitable that someday, and likely someday soon, one of them would look to leave the island and see the outside world for himself. And then, well, then we’d have to explore those other options.” I looked at him closely again. He was telling the truth.
“And why aren’t you exploring them now?” I asked plainly.
“Well, as you said yourself, we don’t have as much leverage here as we may like,” Casal said with a small laugh. “And that would just lead to more fighting, which would do none of our people good. Surely we can agree on that much.”
“Sure,” I said cagily. “For the sake of argument.” Several of the board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats again, casting wary glances at the outside wall. The board room was insulated, so we couldn’t hear what was going on outside. No doubt, everyone at this table imagined the worst. We could use that.
“Surely, you mustn’t think--” Casal began, his own expression one of shock.
But I cut him off. “Where’s Achilles?” I asked abruptly.
“I’m sorry…” he began, shaking his head as if he didn’t understand.
“You can’t seriously expect me to agree to this without anything upfront,” I laughed. “So I repeat, where is Achilles?”
“Agree?” Clem cried out. “Nic, you can’t seriously be...” But I held up a sturdy hand to silence him and gave him a fierce look.
“Achilles,” I repeated, turning back to Casal without taking my hand down, to make sure Clem stayed shut up. The man narrowed his eyes at me.
“Very well,” he said at long last. “I can deliver him to you.”
“Good,” I said, giving him a small smile. “But first, I have some questions about him.”
“Oh?” Casal asked.
“Why can’t I perform a binding or soul gaze on him?” I asked flatly. “I’ve never met another who had this ability to resist.”
“Ah, that,” Casal grumbled, rolling his eyes. “It runs in one family. The Tibor family. He’s the last one who can do it. We don’t know why. During the Great Binder War, the Tibors were instrumental in the binders’ defeat. After the war, it’s no surprise that they rose to power.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Do you have any idea why they have this ability?”
“I have no idea,” Casal said dismissively, shrugging. “And I don’t particularly care, to be honest.”
The rest of the board looked similarly annoyed with this line of conversation. I realized, with some humor, that they were jealous. Achilles had this ability that they did not, and they had no hope of rising to power in a family organization like this. No wonder people wanted to see Achilles on TV so much. They trusted him because he was the only person who wasn’t susceptible to our powers.
“So that’s why he came to Termina,” I surmised, pressing the subject. “Because he was the one who, if he got caught, would be able to get out of it without being bound or found out.”
“But he was caught, and he was found out anyway,” Casal said, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “Just in a roundabout way. It’s not as much of an advantage as he thinks. At least not for him, anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“It means that he’s an idiot,” Casal said, his lip curling upward as he reveled at the chance to shit on his longtime boss. “He’s nothing like the Tibors of old, who fought bravely against the binders. He hides behind his employees, and his intellect, and his name and family money, and those muscles, and that ability of his, but it’s all a facade. He’s not much, at the end of the day.”
He resented that Achilles was back, I realized. It made sense, considering that he’d been left to run the company all by himself for God knows how long while Achilles was away. And now here the boss came prancing back, expecting to be in charge again just like always.
“He tried to emulate his forefathers by going to Termina,” Casal continued, not missing a beat while trashing on Achilles. “He tried to be big and tough like them and go to Termina, looking for a thrill and some profit. And look where it got us.”
“Right, so where is he?” I asked, wanting to get back to the point of all this.
27
“He’s back here, cowering,” Casal said, rising to his feet and motioning for us to follow him. We did, all the way back out of the cylindrical hallway and the melted bronze door and to the copy of Elias Berg’s office outside.
“Hello, Mr. Tibor,” Casal said, wrapping his knuckles on the door. “We have someone here to see you.”
He kicked the door in and made his way inside. They had tied Achilles to a desk chair, wriggling to get free. I stared at him, dumbfounded. He really was being hand-delivered to us. I hadn’t expected that, I had to admit it. This Casal guy was full of surprises.
“I can give you a ship and someone to sail it,” Casal said as if there weren’t a giant man tied up in front of us. “You should be back home soon. Then the sailor can take you and your loved ones to your new homes, if you so choose.”
Achilles wriggled so
me more, realizing just what was going on here. But there was some kind of gag in his mouth preventing him from speaking.
“So, do we have a deal?” Casal asked, gazing at him pleasantly.
“Maybe...” I said, ignoring Clem gawking at me. “But I do have one more request.”
“Such as?” Casal asked, looking less than pleased with this answer.
“That the cameras all be removed,” I said plainly. “No more of that. No more profiting off us. You can still sell novelty items through the shippers if you really want to, but no more ‘reality show,’ or whatever it is you call it. That’s done. No more. You can create your own, if you want, pretend it’s on Termina. It should be easy enough, you’ve copied most of our stuff already.”
I held my arms out to illustrate. This was a picture-perfect copy of Elias Berg’s office, after all. Casal narrowed his eyes at me again and studied me closely.
“No,” he said crisply.
“Then no deal,” I said with a shrug. Clem pumped his fist in the air at this small victory.
“You can’t be serious,” he said, glaring at me. “You can’t honestly expect us to give up almost all of our sources of revenue and then turn around and get rid of this too? No, it’s an insult!”
“As much of an insult as having millions of random people all over the world watching everything you say and do all the time,” I said. “Seriously? Don’t talk to me about insults you fucking dumbass.”
“You were right, there’s no reasoning with him,” Casal said, turning to one of the other board members and shaking his head. “Very well, we will fight, and it will be bloody, but we will win. And then we will say that Mr. Tibor here died in the struggle, and we’ll take over the company.”
“But Sir,” one of the other board members gasped, staring out in the direction of the holographic army which we couldn’t see from the window because we were so high up in the air. “They’ve brought… well, they have powers that...” Clearly, this was not a united front. And that was good for us. Very good.
