The Goddess Gambit

by B Michael Stevens

  Carbine winced. "That explains the comment that gang-banger made."

  "Ya think? So anyway, one day, after she had grown up—Well, grown up to teenager at least—she starts to look shit. Like real sick. Can't do her job, no one wants her. Starts getting real skinny, has sores, all that." Ratt made a face and waved his hand, dismissing the nastier details of young Lucy's sickness. "So, her lazy-ass pimp owner has her tested, and sure enough, she has some disease. And it’s going to kill her. That bastard didn't take care of his girls like Elena does, he'd just use 'em and lose 'em. Turn and burn, man, turn and burn." Ratt steered his hoverboard around a corner, continuing to follow Jon and Lucy, but made no effort to catch up, happy with the distance between them. In hushed tones, he finished the story.

  "There was a regular. Real sick puppy, used to come in a lot when Lucy was young, stopped coming when she grew up. Some high-ranking military officer, into all kinds of black ops shit, and close to the Chairman, right? Name was Matiaba or something. Well anyway, this pimp, right? Well, he wants to get as much money out of Lucy as possible, and since she wasn't turning tricks anymore, he calls up this Matiaba guy. Gets word into the Zigg, you follow?" Carbine nodded his understanding and Ratt continued.

  "So, this military guy, he takes her. They cut her up. All the way up. Saved her life, yeah, but in many ways, they only made it worse. She is mostly metal now, you know that, right? They even put a chip in her brain, so they could control her. Turned her into the Chairman's private assassin. With that chip, she couldn't resist the impulses, the commands they gave her. But, and here is the sick part, she is aware of what she's doing. She remembers every bit of it. Man, Warbak... He used her to kill his political rivals, silence his mistresses, wannabe journalists, protesters in the Shanty, you name it. Just about anyone who caused problems for the State or asked too many questions. Then he started sending her out into the Rough to deal with enclaves that resisted annexing. She cut down entire villages of unarmed people, human, Displaced, women, and children."

  Carbine listened with growing sympathy. He frowned deeply and looked on ahead into the dark where he could make out the warrior woman on the edge of his vision. "I had no idea," he muttered.

  "It's got a happy ending, bro." Ratt half smiled. "One lucky day, Lucy was sent to destroy a Resistance hideout in the Shanty the State had received a tip about. That was the day she met Maya. It was the same year she saved me. I wasn't there, but I've heard the stories. Everyone's heard the stories. Picture this: Lucy, Saint of Death, comes bustin' in in all her wicked glory, right? But there is Maya. Friggin' leader of the Resistance, totally ignoring her guardian's attempts to get her out and to safety. They say Maya even shaped a Strange to force her guardians off her. So, she just starts slowly walking over to Lucy, who is laying waste to anyone who comes near her, right? Lucy goes into attack mode, tries to raise that bad-ass club of hers to kill Maya, but Maya just stands there and smiles. People who were there say they heard Maya say something like, 'You don't want to do this anymore, do you? Well, you don't have to if you don't want to.' And just like that," Ratt snapped his fingers for emphasis, "Lucy drops her club and starts crying. Tearless. Cybernetic eyes and all. Maya walks up, hugs her. From what I hear, that was the only time since after her parents died that Lucy cried."

  "How... how did she know? Maya, that is," Carbine wondered aloud.

  "Well, she is a goddess, bro. Maya shaped a Strange that broke the chip that was controlling Lucy. Freed her, more or less.”

  "Wow." Carbine nodded his understanding.

  "So, the very next thing, like, right away, Lucy kneels before Maya. Swears fealty right then and there. Been her loyal guardian ever since. Lucy is kinda a big deal around here. She brought lots of us, including me, into the Resistance. Saved us, the way she was saved. You know she returned to the whorehouse of her youth?"

  "Well, I guessed that," Carbine said dryly, "considering where we just came from."

  "Yeah, well get this: She comes back, but with a vengeance. She literally dissects the fucker that used to own her. She made one of the girls the new owner and the place has been a safe house for the Resistance ever since. Elena takes good care of the girls, and we make sure they get medicines and stuff. We get all kinds of intel there; a lot of military guys come to places like that, and the girls know how to loosen lips." Ratt smirked. "Hell, that's where we first got word of Wyntr."

  "Wyntr?" Carbine asked, frowning.

  "Yeah. Some kid. From a land far, far away. Beyond the edges of the Far Rough. Apparently, she knows the whereabouts of some hidden fortress that Maya has been looking for. Says that it holds a secret weapon. Something that can not only defeat Warbaby and the Harvesters, but fix the Drops, too. She got snatched up by the Scrubs. That's what all this," Ratt gestured to Carbine, then to Jon and Lucy, "is about. This child is the key."

  They continued to float on in silence for the rest of the short trip to the Vault. Carbine leaned back, resting, and contemplated a reality that he and Jon had never known existed. If this is like what Jon was shown, then I think I understand.

  011

  THE APPROACHING clack-thump of heavy booted footsteps on the gangway outside woke both of the girls from their troubled sleep.

  Wyntr made a sound, somewhere between a moan and a mumble.

  Poor thing. She has been through so much, Maya thought as she sat up, studying the groggy child. She turned to face the approaching footfalls. There was little doubt the sounds were headed directly for them. They grew louder with each pulse of their military cadence.

  "Miss Lily? Are they coming to hurt me?"

  Maya turned, startled by how fast the child had gone from incoherent to inquisitive and frightened.

  "No, child. They won't hurt you. Everything will be alright. I promise." Maya smiled outwardly while inwardly hoping that she hadn't just added a broken promise from a trusted one to the list of wrongs dealt to this little girl. She reached out and grabbed Wyntr's small hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. The girl returned Maya's smile as best she could, but her eyes betrayed her, showing fear and anxiety.

  Immediately following her arrest and imprisonment, Maya had tested the Strange defenses of the Ministry’s prison ward. It was as she had expected. Some sort of anti-Strange field was in place and prevented her from shaping. If only it were that easy, she mourned. Now, having fully committed to her plan and allowing herself to be arrested, she could only wait for her guardian to bring Jon to her. Once reunited, they would free Wyntr and make for the Morning Star. It was a bold plan, and not without its risks, but it had to work; the fate of the world was at stake.

  Before Maya could reassure Wyntr further, the boot steps reached a crescendo and then halted. Both the young woman and the girl took a sharp intake of breath and stiffened in anticipation. Wyntr flinched so hard she nearly jumped when the cell door’s lock clicked open.

  A shaft of bright light appeared, at first no wider than a sliver, but then it quickly grew to fill the doorframe as the thick, vault-like door swung open. Before her eyes could adjust, Maya's vision washed out, as though she were staring at the sun. Then the outlines of several menacing figures took shape: three humanoids, with arrays of tubes and strange hardware protruding from their heads and two four-legged canine shapes.

  Scrubbers.

  Maya shuddered.

  Wyntr made a whimpering noise and scooted herself across the cold floor in an attempt to put Maya between herself and the Scrubbers. One of the Handlers’ hounds twitched its sleek, metallic, shielded head, registering the girl's movement, and it instinctively snarled a throaty growl. The handler flicked his right hand in a snapping gesture and the cyber-beast relaxed.

  "Miss Lily. I'm scared," Wyntr whispered.

  "Shhh... It's alright, dear. Nothing is going to hurt you." She accepted the burrowing child into her arms and turned her lithe frame towards the open door and its occupants.

  "Lily Sapphire, you will come with us now." Relieved as she was
that the Scrubbers had come for her and not the girl, Maya still shivered. The chilling, monotone synth voice of the Handler was so far from human, she could not help but be repulsed and horrified.

  Her eyes had fully adjusted now, and the room was bathed in the light from outside. She could see her and Wyntr's reflections in the smooth, polished, convex faceplate of the Inquisitor, like a warped fun-house mirror, distorting their already wretched visages.

  Now is the time to be strong. Not just for Wyntr, but for what's at stake.

  "Very well. Just promise me that no harm will come to this child."

  The Scrubbers answered her with grim silence. Maya ignored the implications and gave Wyntr a big squeeze, turning her head to whisper in the girl's ear.

  "Don't be scared. I will be back real quick, and nothing is going to happen to you." She pecked a little kiss on the girl's cheek, squeezed her even harder, and then broke herself free from the child's terrified embrace.

  "I'll be right back." She smiled down at the girl, then turned to face her captors, squaring her shoulders.

  The same Sniffer as before began to growl again, causing Maya to stiffen slightly and lift her chin. This time, the Handler did not gesture for the beast to stop.

  She fixed her determination and spoke with as much dignity and courage as she could muster.

  "Let's get this over with. Lead the way."

  The door before her hissed and slid open, revealing the questioning chamber beyond. The Handlers gestured for her to enter. She could hear the snarling of the Sniffers and the robotic-like monotone of one of the Handlers issuing some order or request to her, but she paid no attention to them. She was floored.

  Before her, alone in the center of the otherwise sterile and empty room, stood a throne-like chair, jutting from the floor like a ceremonial altar. It was the chair the Ministers used to interrogate their victims, and it had the essence of Jon, the soldier she had connected with during her concert, all over it.

  What have they done to you? she wondered, then fatalistically decided that she must trust in the shapings, just as she had instructed her guardian to do. This was, and still is, the only way. Pain is a small sacrifice.

  "Put Miss Sapphire in the chair," a voice from across the room instructed Maya's escorts. She brought her attention to the present and noticed that a Minister had appeared. His officer's hat, jackboots, white gloves and leather overcoat obscured his mechanical body. Only his face, a blackened version of the same mirror-dome plate that crowned each Handler, revealed that this was more than a mere man.

  The Handlers did as they were bid, one of them standing back to mind the two Sniffers. Maya offered no resistance and allowed herself to be placed in the enormous chair. Its sheer size made her feel no bigger in stature than Wyntr. A second after she had settled in, the Minister instructed her to remain still. She did, and the chair’s arm and ankle bindings snapped into place, holding her fast. Just as they had with Jon.

  Maya's eyes shifted to the approaching Minister in general at first, then specifically to his white glove-clad hands. She had heard stories of what these Ministers could do. If the Scrubbers, the Handler-Sniffer team, was the arbiter of justice out on the streets, whether inside the Ziggurat or out in the Shanty, the Ministers were the ones who issued such power. Never seen outside their level of the Zigg, they were the brains behind the brawn, second only in authority to Chairman Warbak.

  "You have been accused of shaping Strange, Miss Sapphire. How do you plead?" The Minister now stood directly before her, his legs shoulder-width apart, his white-clad hands clasped casually.

  "While I pride myself on giving a magical performance, I surely have no clue what you're talking about." She dared, giving her best Lily Sapphire schoolgirl grin.

  "Quite amusing, to be sure," a new voice interjected before the Minister could respond. "But I do not think you will be smiling for long."

  Maya turned her head to see who the new arrival was. His voice seemed familiar and was fully human, lacking the synth quality of a Handler or Minister.

  "I think it's time you and I had a little—how shall I put it?—meeting of the minds." The leader of the so-called free world, savior of the human race, Chairman Accoba Warbak, stood in the doorway, flanked by two armed guards.

  Maya tried to recover from her shock and to appear noble and stoic. "Chairman. It's an honor to be in your presence, sir. Can I inquire as to why I have been detained? I am just an entertainer, and believed I was welcome in Home."

  "Let's dispense with the pretense..." He paused for dramatic effect, then added, "Maya."

  Her face darkened. She felt like she had just been slapped with a tidal wave of cold water. This revelation was unwanted, unexpected, and threatened her plan. Threatened it very much.

  If he knows, then that means Umbra... Her breathing quickened. Her mind scrambled for a way to salvage the plan.

  "Yes, I know who you are, Maya. I know all about you," he said as he approached, clearly enjoying her discomfort, fear, and confusion.

  "How?" she managed to squeak out as she looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

  "You needn't concern yourself with that. A friend of mine has been looking for you for some time now. I believe you know him. Umbra?"

  Maya simply stared, not wanting to confirm or deny anything. Best to keep him guessing, she thought.

  "That's right, princess. Umbra and I are working together. At least, that's what I want him to believe. For now." Warbak added the last bit slowly and darkly, two simple words as heavy with dread implication as a hundred megaton thermonuclear weapon.

  "Even now, he is on his way here, along with a Harvester battle-barge. Yes! I am bringing them to Home!" At this Warbak laughed maniacally. "I'm having my finest company of Heavy Infantry escort them here."

  "But why?" Maya asked, unable to imagine why anyone, even a megalomaniac like Warbak, would bring a Harvester battle-barge to Home.

  "Why, they are coming to collect you, of course." The Chairman smiled like a wolf that had cornered a rabbit. "Well, you and everyone else."

  Maya's small round eyes widened in shock and terror. Her mind reeled. What could he possibly mean?

  "Now, I have strict orders not to tell you these things, or even talk to you. I'm supposed to be a good little soldier and follow orders. But, as you are soon to find out, it was not I who made a deal with the devil. Quite the opposite. Soon, Umbra will find out that it was he who sold his soul. And he, like everyone else on this broken planet, will kneel before me!" Warbak laughed again and this time threw his arms up in a gesture of impassioned triumph.

  "So, now. While we wait for him to arrive. What do you say you and I have a little fun? See, what I'm interested in is what you are up to. Why did you so obviously shape Strange at your concert? Did you want to get caught? Let's have a little look-see, hmm? You don't mind if I poke around inside you now, do you?" He leered at her and gave a devilish, lascivious smirk.

  Maya squirmed and winced, crying out. This only seemed to please Warbak more.

  That's what she was good at: making her audience happy. And that is exactly what Chairman Accoba Warbak forgot, as he relished his malicious bullying of the petite woman. He forgot, first and foremost, that Maya, also known as Lily Sapphire, was a top-notch performer. And she was about to give him the performance of her life.

  On the outside Maya appeared shocked and scared; on the inside she was humming a melody to herself, in her mind only, threading the needle of the Strange she was about to shape. And Warbak, for all his cruel bragging, was none the wiser.

  She played along with him as he continued to mock and threaten, crying and pleading, the whole while maintaining the music in her mind until the Strange began to take shape and manifest her will.

  She was ready for his attack. Let it come now.

  "Although I'm under orders to save you for him, there would be no harm in probing your secret places until I am satisfied," Warbak continued his threats, now lined with innuendo tha
t he doubtlessly thought clever. "Does that sound nice to you? Open up for me now."

  Maya could have puked at his insinuations but kept up her fearful act, squirming and protesting as the Chairman closed the gap between them, solidly gripping her forehead in his right hand. His eyes rolled back in his head and his face twisted into equal parts concentration and orgasmic release.

  In the back of her mind, she made the mental note that Warbak seemed to possess the same powers as a Minister, although he lacked the cybernetic hardware.

  She would later reflect on the implications and just how remarkable they were. Accoba Warbak could shape Strange, was Unpure, tainted. He wasn't simply emulating Strange-shaping like the Ministers, and the Scrubber units did with their technological wonders. He was the real deal. This revelation, if put out into the right places, could bring the whole narrative of his Social Purity regime crashing down.

  At this moment, however, she had only the time to finish the last twist of the Strange she had shaped and spring her trap. Her timing had to be exact, or else he would detect what she had done.

  She felt his sweaty hand on her brow, his fingers and thumb squeezing her temples as surely as she felt his mind begin to sink its wriggling tentacles into her own.

  Wait for it... wait for it... NOW!

  She finished the melody in her mind the exact moment before he made contact.

  She was standing on the outside, looking in, so to say.

  In her mind's eye, she beheld Warbak, in the same position he had been a second earlier, although she was now viewing him from a different vantage, from the side. Before him was a perfect simulacrum of herself, every detail matched exactly. Except maybe the doppelganger was even more beautiful, less flawed.

  However, the simulacrum was good enough to fool Warbak and so Maya, now nothing more than a ghost in the machine that was the network of their two brains, observed Accoba Warbak observing who he thought was her.

  They were in mind-space now, a virtual reality of the inner mind. More to the point, they were in Maya's mind-space. At least a version of her mind-space. The version she allowed him to see. For this, all of it—the doppelganger and the mind-space—were the Strange she had shaped. This was her trap.