Chapter 15

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Taer moved her body slightly to the right and, without stopping, with a single powerful movement of her left hand, tossed aside the short blonde girl in the incredibly lush, dirty gray silk dress that had so unfortunately gotten in her way. She cried out in surprise and collapsed onto the marble slabs of the floor, arms outstretched wide. The older woman, standing behind the girl, was simply knocked off her shoulder and continued her run.

Taer was almost out of breath now and was "in mode", picking up speed rapidly - she was almost flying, pushing her body forward in sharp thrusts. Her shoulders were still, and so was the bullet gun clutched in her right hand.

The perception narrowed, and there were only three objects left in the world: her, her partner, and the target. Everything else was only an obstacle in the way of the target - a tall and short dark-haired man in his forties, wearing a brown jacket and dark grey trousers.

The man ran thirty paces ahead, easily sidestepping the many passersby - literally seeping through the crowd that filled the transition junction of the monorail station. Taer and her partner walked through the crowd like two blades, leaving behind the commotion and shouts of people unlucky enough to get in their way. This ingenuous running strategy was paying off - Taer felt that they were faster, and the distance was inexorably shrinking.

Their target seemed to have come to the same conclusion. The fugitive was no longer in time for the monorail platform. He jerked sharply to the right, towards the stairs leading to the snack bars. In a few jumps, he passed the stairs, jumped over a couple of tables, and darted toward the public restrooms. For a moment there was an empty space between him and Taer. The bullet whirred and twitched in her hand, bullets flew dryly near the target's head and struck the jamb of the passage, knocking sharp stone chips and fine grey dust from the marble slabs that covered the wall. One of the walls, unable to withstand the impact, burst with the sound of broken glass, covering the floor with jagged shards and exposing the dark red fluted base of the plastic wall.

The man cried out, reflexively covering his face with his hands as several sharp shards of stone slashed across his cheek. And dove into the passageway.

Taer froze in the aisle against the wall, glanced at her partner, and, waiting for him to nod, put a machine gun out in her outstretched hands and pressed the trigger. A moment later, two machine guns were whirring, spraying fire into the washroom. The small room was filled with the sound of bullets hitting, the clang of bursting exterior panels, and the crunch of tearing plastic partitions. Without stopping to fire, they burst inside in one swift burst and immediately dispersed sideways, away from the opening where it was so convenient to send a round.

The gunmen froze, driving their barrels cautiously, but no one fired back - there were no new targets.

The small public lavatory - literally fifteen paces long, decorated with cream marble tiles - was tattered with numerous hits. The partitions of the individual cubicles were mangled and lay on the floor, which was quickly covered with water spurting from broken cisterns and sinks. There was fine stone dust in the air. Here and there in the walls gaped dark red patches of plastic that had appeared in the place of the split slabs.

In the center, lying face down on the floor was a dark-haired man in a brown jacket - the target. There were three gaping holes in his back near the spine. Behind the target, near the opposite wall, covered in shards of mirror, a young woman was frozen in a ridiculous pose. The sink beside which she stood had been shattered by several hits, and water was now gurgling quietly over her, making dark, damp paths spread across the bright purple suit.

Perfect silence - only the sound of water carpeting the room in a gleaming carpet. The water near the bodies was darkened by a slight reddish haze.

Taer pressed the trigger again, breaking the silence with a buzzing sound, and the man's body twitched faintly as several more bullets struck his back.

Cautiously treading on the wet floor, covered with squeaky tile splinters, they approached the target. The partner kicked aside the light stun gun the target was clutching in his hand and froze, taking a couple of steps back. Taer squatted down beside the man and rolled the body over onto its back.

The brown jacket was blackened with water and blood and gleamed slightly. His dark wet hair was sticking to his forehead, his brown eyes with long "female" lashes were wide open, a slight smile was on his full lips, and a thin, slightly upturned nose and the corner of his mouth were streaming out of a rather wide, slightly blurred, scarlet stream of water. There was a look of surprise and joy on the target's face as if he had been given an unexpected but pleasant surprise.

She started to search his pockets when she was interrupted by a surprised cry from her partner. Taer reflexively reached for her weapon, glancing up at the same time, and then froze.

The target's eyes glowed softly blue. Before she could even be surprised, the glow faded, and a small, apple-sized glowing ball of soft reddish-yellow was woven over her body at about the level of Taer's face. It was slightly blurred, like a candle flame hanging in the air.

And at that moment, a sticky wave of animal terror came over her.

"Close your eyes! Don't look!" yelled her partner from somewhere on the side.

But she was already watching, and a panicked thought was flitting wildly around in her head.

We killed him wrong!

She didn't know why it was 'wrong' or how it should have been 'right' to kill him, but she suddenly realized that it was wrong to kill him that way and that the touch of that fire was the creepiest and scariest thing that could happen. It's disgusting. It's nastier than death. It is to cease to be yourself. It is the absolute end. It is scary and vile.

The realization flooded her mind, she didn't know where the thought had come from, but its truth was obvious. It was too close. Taer wanted to run as far away from that balloon as possible, or at least turn away, but she realized with horror that she could not move. She couldn't even close her eyes! Fear gripped her. Her body no longer obeyed her - she didn't believe it could happen. Especially that it could happen to her - to be paralyzed by fear. Her consciousness was beating inside her paralyzed body, struggling to cover her eyes even a little - she wanted to scream from the horror that filled her, but she couldn't even do that.

The orb, swaying slightly as if propelled by a gentle breeze, began to move closer to her face. Consciousness howled with pleading: "Please, not me! Not me! Not me! Not me!"

As the flame approached, a tightness deep in her chest grew to her heart, and the nasty feeling grew stronger and stronger, filling her whole body. She couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream... just to breathe - to get relief - to die, but not this. It was already very close - the distance was so close that it was too far away, and it was too late. It was already very close - about a palm away - her face could already feel the soft warmth coming from the orb. And that warmth, for some reason, made her consciousness rush and howl like a terrified animal.

This can't really be happening! Her consciousness was howling. I can't be that scared, I have blocks, I can't be that scared!

Taer realized this was a dream; reality could not be that frightening. But she was sure that the touch of fire in her dream would be just as frightening and disgusting. She tried to wake up, but it didn't work, which made it even scarier.

I want to wake up! Please, I don't want to be here!

The fire was quite close, the first soft petals of flame touching her face...

At that moment, Taer felt a terrible pain in her legs as if hundreds of red-hot needles had been stuck in her calves.

And she woke up.

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She sat up on the bed with a jerk and gasped for air as if she had been underwater for so long. She wanted to scream to get rid of the unpleasant heaviness that filled her chest and enveloped her heart, but all she could do was wheeze. She was covered in sticky, cold sweat, both legs aching and cramped, her body shaking, each breath hard to take.

The blockage remembered that it existed - the pain had subsided. Taer dangled her legs off the bed and kneaded her calves to calm the cramp. She was still a little shaky.

But she was in her stateroom aboard the Estal and was flying on a Voigrom. The wooden panels of black fire oak with mauve silk inlays, the huge round bed draped in dark purple sheets, the thick dark red carpet on the floor... It was her favorite cabin, which was supposed to be for her Lord's noble guests, but had long since been 'occupied' by the 'security specialist' on the grounds that the cabin had a 'strategically important location'.

"And, most importantly, no flames nearby - I woke up in time!" She said out loud with relief and winced at the sound of her voice - it was hoarse and lifeless.

But anyway, the environment was soothing to her: the abominable heaviness in her chest had gradually subsided, her breathing had recovered, the large shivers had stopped, and the cramp in her legs was gone, only reminded by a slight ache in her calves.

And the flames, indeed, were nowhere to be seen.

Taer squeamishly tossed aside the sweat-soaked blanket and waddled cautiously with her still 'wooden' legs to the shower room. On the way, she slammed on the security terminal panel as an old habit, triggering the test mode.

Turning on the massage mode, she put her face under the tight, hot jets and exhaled a long breath:

"Be cursed the day I agreed to install the induced reactions!" she moaned.

Although the position of 'personal security specialist' mainly meant preventing scandals and dealing with unwanted leaks to the Holo-V - it was thought that Taer should also be able to act as a bodyguard, which required certain skills, such as hand-to-hand combat, which the former Navy lieutenant had no chance of acquiring.

So when she (by the way, by Countess Durlurl herself!) was offered the prospect of receiving Induced Skills, she did not hesitate long and agreed. After all, it was a measure that allowed her to enter the Lord's Arm without wasting two years in training - she could have sacrificed her right hand for the sake of such a prospect! All the more so at that moment, the possible side effects did not seem to be anything really unpleasant. Headaches? What nonsense! Possible insanity? Statistically, a fraction of a percent! Far more likely to crash on a flyer or not come out of another hyperjump. Death? Oh, don't be ridiculous - even rarer than insanity!

When the tests showed that Taer had an excellent susceptibility and rejection was unlikely, she was completely clear of any doubts. Anyway, she was given, as the clever people at the Medical Intelligence Center put it, "big, fat skills". The more complex and "better" the skill being induced, the greater the chance of conflict. Even if you've never had a similar skill. Because a true skill does not exist on its own but is closely linked to the personality. So, when you get a skill of this level, you also get a piece of personality... with all the consequences. At least, that's what scientists think.

"I bet those freaks in the white coats were just happy to experiment and cram three times their skills into me!" Taer hissed angrily, leaning against the shower wall.

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But, as it was explained to her, she had almost zero negative feedback... Anyway, anyway, after the terms of the roll-out, she did not become a vegetable and run around screaming; "Oh, how colorful everything is". Which was taken as a victory by the project staff. And, in fact, they weren't much wrong.

Then there was a course of replacement surgery to bring her body up to the level of skills she had acquired, though Taer had no complaints about her fitness before that. Two more weeks later, having received braided bones, new tendons, altered muscle structure, and a perception booster, and becoming nearly twice as heavy - she began an intensive training session that would show what of the induced skills had been assimilated.

The result? Uh-oh... She could drive and pilot anything that had been released five years before. She was pretty good at fighting (to put it mildly) and had a lot of security reactions built up in her. She also developed the habit of ordering bitter taymar, which she hated, and wrapping non-existent locks around her finger (because she always had her hair in a tight knot or ponytail).

It would seem to be little things, unintrusive scraps of the "donor's" personality... But then the nightmares began. Surprisingly vivid and realistic, in which she died in different ways: she was torn apart by burst thrusters, she was eaten alive by some creatures, she found herself in an ion breakdown zone without bio-protection, she was burnt alive in an airborne capsule that had depressurized...

Taer, of course, decided that it was the donor's memory, hence schizophrenia. Or worse. But she was reassured by the psychologists and medics who were watching her - they pointed out that it was difficult for a person to die more than once, so it was not a memory at all, just a reaction of her mind to the installed skills.

"If you think about it, you got off very lightly - we were expecting much more serious problems, so just take plenty of sedatives at night!" The psychologist in charge of the project told her at the time.

"You should get off as easy as I did today with that 'orb'!" The memory of the 'orb' made Taer shiver.

Now, having rested, she could not understand what was causing such a panic-stricken terror. But the mere memory of the orb made the nasty heaviness in her chest wake up again. This nightmare clearly stood apart from the others - she had no idea that the horror could be so monstrous that she could be so afraid.

After stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel, Taer called for a droid to make the bed and, pouring herself some cognac from the bar, plunged into an armchair.

"It was bullshit," she reassured herself. "He was wearing a jacket with a collar that hadn't been worn in about five hundred years, and I'd shot him with a bullet gun - they'd been around since the Guild Wars, at the most, twenty years ago!"

"And that orb..." She twitched involuntarily again. "It looked like a description of Graceful Fire. But why was I so terrified of it? Maybe it symbolized my parents' religiosity, and my reaction to it was compensation for my failure to live up to their expectations." At one time, back in naval intelligence, during very long shifts, Taer had a huge collection of inventories from the "Know and Reveal Yourself" series at her disposal. From time to time, that kind of reading was reflected. "And why shouldn't one look at him? Idiocy..."

She sipped her cognac thoughtfully and looked at the clock that flashed on the small screen of her communicator: six in the morning, ship's time - no point in going to bed.

I won't survive another nightmare like that.

The nightmares usually came after the active manifestations of the installed skill. Fortunately, Lord Cassard's service was not conducive to active manifestations, and in the two years that Taer had been a 'personal security specialist', the installed skills had only manifested themselves twice - once during the poisoning and again at the Unification Feast, after the embarrassment in Marquess Turang's bedroom.

Yeah, it manifested itself, didn't it? Taer grinned grimly, remembering the huge bruise on Isalaya's shoulder and her tirade about it. Where did she pick up that? It's not like she was on the Guard...

The manifestation of induced reactions is a very strange sensation. Suddenly you start to do something, even though you don't understand why or what you are doing.

There was a lot to remember.

She thought I wonder what that rumbling sound was in the bedroom, but the accelerator had picked her up gently, making the world grainy, the sounds grainy, and everything around her slow and fluid. And the body that had been sitting peacefully at the table with the Marquise Arm Guards before suddenly literally threw itself out of the chair and towards the bedroom, simultaneously snatching a blaster and knocking the table over on those very Guards in the process. The Guardsmen got the worst of it that time, and the worst of it was the poor fellow at the door as he was blocking the way.

A side kick to the knee is very painful, and if the kicker weighs as much as a muscled man and a half... Anyway, the guardsman blocking the path was still falling, and Taer was already firing. She wasn't aiming. She wasn't looking for the target. She knew exactly where it was. This was a new experience for her. No, she didn't foresee it, like an adept. She just knew where it was, the target, as if she had entered the room before because the target could only be there and nowhere else.

Eventually, she shot first and only then realized what she had shot at - Lord Alessandro Cassard, partly wrapped in light turquoise sheets and partly... naked, was lying on the floor on his back. On top of him lay Lady Isalaia Marquise Turang, hissing in pain... completely undressed. Her porcelain shoulder was reddened by a paralyzing shock, and her left arm was hanging by a whip.

Taer, who until then had only been an unconcerned observer, had managed to think aloofly that "I think Isalaya has bigger breasts" when suddenly the "installed skill" "realized" that the protected object was in no danger and made her hand, leaving Taer alone with the noble gentlemen.

With very annoyed noble gentlemen..., Taer pulled out a tracksuit from the wardrobe. She decided to go to the gym - she hadn't been able to find time to exercise lately, and it was making itself felt with the occasional cramp. She had to pay for everything: cramps for her altered muscle structure, nightmares for her induced reactions, and an inability to wear pretty shoes with heels and swim in the pool without a compensator for her heavy weight (despite her rather graceful contours).

I wonder what I'll have to pay for the prefix Daim in front of my name. Anything but dreams like this! A couple more nightmares like this, and I'll be able to retire, having lost my health in the service of the House! Could these be echoes of the donor's personality and her fear?

Taer often thought about who her donor was. She must have been a strange girl... or woman, used to shooting first, talking later, piloting anything that flies and rolls, and being able to fight very violently.

Probably some kind of Intelligence agent or Navy sabotage team. That's an odd skill set for a bodyguard.

She was distracted from her thoughts about her donor by the growing noise coming from the ajar door of the gymnasium. She was not sure why, but instead of just walking in as she had planned, she crept up to the door very quietly and almost without breathing. And peeked inside with literally half an eye.

At the back of the gymnasium, paneled in light polished wood, inside a wide circle for exercises with bladed weapons with her back to the entrance, was a girl in a milky white fencing jumpsuit. Baroness Rional. She was literally tormenting the fencing droid with ferocity. The noise was caused by hitting the hull of this droid. Why Rionalу? There was no other girl with a figure like that on the ship.

Taer was still contemplating whether to go in or leave Kayrin alone with herself and her incomprehensible problems - when suddenly the baroness kicked the droid away from her with a kick to the body and shouted:

"Stop the program!" And turned towards the entrance.

It became apparent that her face was covered by a solid milky white mask with a black monogram in the center. She pulled the mask off and smiled strangely:

"Well, come in, Taer. What are you standing there for?"

Taer walked in, looking as if she was going to do it anyway, thinking to herself: //Damn! How did she see me?" She was about to sneak out, not that the Baroness's company would be intolerable to her, but she was not in the mood for polite smiles.

"Would you like to warm up with an old friend?" Kayrin asked, nodding towards the racks of weapons and equipment.

"Er, no thanks Kayrin, but I'm not in any shape to be - a little workout on the machines is probably all I can do."

"Yes? And I heard that Lord Cassard's Arm defeated the Arm of Marquess Turang. And that you were involved in that momentous battle. I wanted to learn from that," the Baroness smirked.

"An unfortunate misunderstanding and my mistake," Lord Cassard's Arm replied dryly, then thought for a moment and added with a wicked smile:

"I am very sorry to have interrupted their lordships at such an intimate moment."

Kayrin raised an eyebrow in surprise, then laughed when she realized it had been said seriously:

"Great shadows, Taer, do you really think I would stoop to jealousy?" she wagged her finger.

"Come on, Kayrin, I always thought you were above petty emotions and knew how to lose with dignity," Taer sat down at the trainer.

"What makes you think I've lost? Ah, Sain Lieutenant Diltar?" Kayrin asked, still flippantly, pulling off her gloves and sitting down at a nearby trainer.

"Because when I burst into the bedroom, it was Marquess Turang, not Baroness Rionale, and when one speaks of Lord Cassard's potential bride, the name Valerie, not Kayrin, is heard... That's why I came to this conclusion, Itory Cadet Rionale."

"Flag Captain Rional," Kayrin corrected with a polite smile. "I told you I was going to reinstate myself to the Guard."

"Ah, what an impetuous career!" Taer smirked, lifting the weight with her legs with an effort.

"Well, you know us noble fools, patronage here, relatives there, acquaintances there..." She glanced at Taer. "But something tells me you've got a better career... Oh, First Blade Diltar?"

Rumors are spreading obscenely fast - the Lord only offered me the position of First Blade last night, and early this morning, Baroness is already in the loop. Eavesdropping?

"Why did you decide to come with us on the Voigrom?" Taer hurriedly changed the subject.

"Why not? I've always loved hunting. You know that. And the fact that I decided to go with Alex... well, I'm a bit of a sybarite, and there's no gym on my yacht, for instance."

"This is the first time I've heard of anyone being dissatisfied with the level of comfort of the Silver Arrow."

"Beautiful, isn't she? Admit it, you've got a crush on her too, haven't you?" Kayrin smiled. "I lent her to Ayuni for the time being - she and her brother are planning some big party for the 'youths'. You know how important it is for them to "prove themselves" at that age."`

I sympathize in advance with the poor souls who will be cleaning the boat after a bunch of sixteen-year-olds have had a go at it

Taer pretended to concentrate on the exercise.

"By the way, Taer, would you mind telling me, as an old friend, what exactly is troubling Alex? I'm a little worried about him," Kayrin naturally ignored Taer's "concentration" with an aristocratic nonchalance.

"I have no idea. What makes you think he cares about anything?"

"Well, I am, after all, a member of the Guard, and I can recognize the stella of a heavy-class planetary generator. Then again, there's another escort added besides you... very distinctive looking."

By 'escort of distinctive appearance' she must have meant Lance Dudo Guwar, the only one of the new arrivals Taer had taken with her on the Voigrom. Because there was no point in the others being there. And Dudo wasn't a lance just anywhere. He was a member of a sabotage group in the fleet, and they, too, occasionally have the need to tap into the nets, to break into block-circuits. But Dudo's training, as well as his appearance, was indeed appropriate. And if it came to firing, she was even more confident in him than she was in herself.

"You know, Kay, I think you'd better discuss this with Lord - it would be a violation of my oath," Taer replied coldly, picking up her compensatory belt and heading towards the pool.

Taer entered the pool, tossed the compensator on the nearest sun lounger, and, just as she started to undress, remembered that she hadn't brought a swimming costume - she wasn't expecting to see anyone here this early in the day.

Ah... to hell with everything! she thought angrily and threw off her clothes.

She took a couple of steps to get a running start, pushed off the edge with force, and dove straight in, without a compensator. Her body arched and plunged into the water in the middle of the pool, raising a huge column of spray. In principle, even if her body was perceptibly denser than the water, she could still swim - she just had to work her arms and legs very hard. So after fifteen minutes, Taër climbed to the edge of the pool and sat up, breathing heavily, all her muscles aching pleasantly, the characteristic residual pain that had plagued her after the cramp is gone. She reached up and grabbed one of the nurlong towels that were on all the chaise lounges, folded in neat black triangles.

I'm surprised Kay didn't follow me, Taer thought, wiping herself off. It's not in her character to fall behind so easily.

Usually, if Baroness Rionale noticed that she was annoying her interlocutor, she would only increase the pressure. It was always a favorite pastime of hers to annoy others.

And she was up obscenely early - even during the service, it was rare to see her before eleven o'clock. Probably she didn't sleep at all.

After wiping herself off, Taer tossed the towel aside and settled into a lounge chair, watching the small waterfall on the other side of the pool with thoughtful eyes.

She was torturing the droid like she was taking her breath away. The baroness seemed so pissed off about something that she just wasn't paying attention to me. I wonder, what could have made her so mad?

Actually, Taer had a gut feeling that something wasn't right about Kayrin Rionale - if at first her sweet flirting with Alex could be explained by her desire to marry him (Also, by the way, I don't know why), then now, after the near official announcement of his marriage to the Ruling Lady of House Bentar, it just didn't make sense!

Again, a sudden desire to serve in the Guard again, though she had resigned from the service before she left for Onstum, saying she was bored with it.

The horrendous scandal that broke out in the family did not stop her, and after all, Baroness Rionale is not Allesandro Cassard - she depends on her family for many things."

She hadn't even arrived yet and had already been reinstated to the navy, which she had always disliked and had shown Taer with her navy past in every possible way.

And she was reinstated during the celebrations and immediately promoted to the rank of Flag Captain

There was little surprise in the fact that she had jumped five ranks at once - her family was rich and very influential, and her father was a member of the Privy Council.

But Flag-Captain... It was only now that Taer realized how strange that in itself was. To command a ship? Somebody's been pushing the political levers as hard as they can.

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