Chapter 18

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Taer didn't quite know where she was or what her body was doing. She was in an endless Fenot delirium. Reality trembled, moving around her and scattering under her gaze, splitting into thousands of variations as if in a kaleidoscope. Was she talking to someone? At least she could hear her voice, calm and confident, without a shadow of the panic, terror, and hopelessness that had consumed her as she struggled inside her own body.

Why? Why didn't I trust my intuition then? she repeated for the umpteenth time.

Then, on the beach, she felt the guider activation, everything suddenly threatening: the cocktail glass, the servant, the droid next to her, the sea. She even knew what the guider was going to do. Shove the cocktail glass in the servant's face, and topple the chaise lounge table so she could get away from the sea and run. Run towards the villa, where the weapons were left.

Of course, she decided this was another attack of aggression, a manifestation of the beginning of madness. Instead of acting, she forcibly held herself in the chair, sipping her cocktail with defiant calm. The realization that this servant was not among those presented to her on arrival came too late.

Taer didn't know what was in that shot, but now there was always "her" presence around her. A steady, powerful, chilling stream filled almost all of her consciousness. More powerful than anything she'd experienced under the Fenote, it squeezed Taer, helpless to resist, to the very back of her mind, occasionally overwhelming her with waves of strange images and fragments of other people's memories, so similar to the nightmares that followed the activation of the guider.

But Taer knew what to do. She waited, concentrating all her remaining willpower on not drowning in despair or disintegrating under the waves of the other's memory. She waited for the icy flood to subside and for the 'other' to fall asleep, making room for her. Taer didn't know why, but when faced with monotony and boringness, the "other" weakened, the icy stream thinned, and she retreated, either falling asleep or tired. It had happened twice before. The first time, not for long, while she was still in the clinic where she was kept. The second time was while driving the flyer, which was enough for her to contact the lord and even get to the tower, but then... Then her emotions took over, just as they had the first time when she found herself over the agonizing body of the SS interrogator.

The girl fell apart. The "other" commented, and to Taer's surprise, she told the lord anyway. Well, that's okay. she reassured herself mentally. I won't fall apart this time. I know what to do.

She didn't know how long it took, but gradually reality stopped fracturing under her gaze, shrinking to its natural uniformity. The icy stream in her head subsided, and Taer finally regained control of her body, finding herself in an unfamiliar place.

It was an apartment of some kind. Judging by the furnishings of the small room painted by the holo system, it was a bourgeois apartment, probably intended for rent. The only window at the end of the room was matte white and gave no clues as to its location.

Taer sat on the couch. A large metal bowl stood on the long, low table in front of her. The kind meant for picking up salads. Empty, except for the towel she'd thrown in it. Beside the bowl was her activated infoblock, with a holo-screen with a summary of hyperspace conditions between Fyron and the Сapital.

Calculating hyper transition time? Taer frowned, trying to focus her unruly eyes on the screen. Without an assistance droid? No wonder she fell asleep...

On the screen, for some reason, there was information on the available low orbital locations in the capital, but Taer wasn't interested in that, nor was she interested in where the two doors in the room she was in led to, why she was wearing a strict business dress and not a tunic. Nothing interested her at all. What mattered was that she saw the blaster on her belt with the weapon lying in an open pouch near the desk.

I won't fall apart this time. She said in her mind, pulling her blaster out of its holster, her arms felt like cotton as if she'd gotten used to her own body. It doesn't matter anymore...

The blaster's grip felt heavy in her palm, and Taer sighed and pointed the black muzzle at her face. It was so close that she could make out the glinting of the focusing crystal at the bottom:

This is so stupid... She felt the tears start to come and took another deep breath to calm the pent-up emotions. Don't fall apart, she commanded herself.

With a quiet click, the ready lever lowered, and with a barely audible clink, the drives went into "combat":

It's better like that than to be caged inside my own body, powerless. Than to be a monster.

A lump came up in her throat. She clearly didn't have much time left. Taer sighed as if she were taking a long dive and pressed the trigger.

An icy torrent surged through her mind but immediately receded as if purposely leaving room for her as well :

"No, no, no, my dear." She heard her voice. "That's no good. It's my body too."

Her eyes opened and she saw the blaster still pointed at her face. Her finger was still on the trigger, and Taer tried hard to press it, but she couldn't. The wall of another will she had been helplessly beating against once again became a prisoner in her own body.

"You can't be left alone even for a second..." the "other" sighed. "And of course, the tears..." she added reproachfully, and literally without noticing Taer's resistance, she put the blaster away, removing the battle-ready lever.

"Tears are not compatible with good eyeliner." She instructed calmly, waving her palm slowly over her eyes to dry the tears. "Except in certain cases, when you need to look particularly pathetic. But that's not part of the plan, is it?"

Her hands pulled a makeup kit out of her bag, and after quickly blotting the corners of her eyes with a tampon, she moved on to an eyeliner pencil.

Taer mentally howled in frustration, trying to regain control of her own body. She was ready to claw at her face to break free of the cage but to no avail. She was sinking back into the nightmare. Becoming a blank stare.

"By the way." In the meantime, the "other" continued, doing something with a pencil near her eye, not needing the help of a mirror at all. "The angle you chose for the shot is not a good idea. From that angle, you'd just rip your face open, getting a dozen minutes of agony in the darkness and maybe a few dozen days of disgrace if someone capable of first aid is around. For a truly instant kill with a blaster, you have to shoot it in the eye. The explosive vaporization of the fluid filling the eyeball will cause fatal brain trauma, even if it isn't hit by the main discharge. Or to the temporal lobe, if the blaster is powerful enough." She added, setting the cosmetic bag aside and switching the holo-screen of the infoblock to mirror mode.

A confident, stylishly dressed woman with impeccable makeup looked back at her from the mirror with a condescending smile, almost like a stranger. Taer didn't recognize herself in her. Clearly not a noblewoman, but rather a very successful and high-ranking businesswoman from the corporate world.

"Well, that's different." She smiled contentedly, looking at her reflection. "And you were going to kill this nice woman? Just like that?" Her reflection shook its head disapprovingly. "Your bloodthirstiness is beginning to worry me."

Lying, self-righteous creature. Taer thought angrily. She rarely discerned the thoughts of the other, but she could feel her presence, her emotions, her moods. And she remembered the hunger, the thirst, the thrill of killing. Even the memory of it made Taer feel sick. You're the one who likes to kill.

The 'other', on the other hand, was clearly discerning her thoughts well:

"That's just your interpretation." The one in the reflection waved it away. "However, at your level of logic, you could say that I like to kill people. And you make it sound negative, but is that a bad thing? Loving your job? After a certain level, you can only improve if you really love what you do."

Taer couldn't tell if the 'other' was serious or just mocking. The ice stream in her mind was calm and serene, as it was most of the time.

Killing people is a job? It's disgusting.

"Why such rejection?" The other raised her eyebrows in surprise. "In all complex human societies, there is a stratum that specializes in killing people. And it's usually a highly respected stratum, firstly because it's a highly demanded task, and secondly..." She smiled meaningfully, "Because it's prudent. And it's all the more strange when the rejection comes from someone who, on the surface level of logic, was trying her best to be part of the hereditary military aristocracy. You're a prude, Taer."

It's not the same. Knights are the first and foremost defenders of the House...

"Is that so?" The "other" asked, pulling out a glass cylinder with a metal lid, like the ones used to store specimens, from a bag near the table. The cylinder was filled with a thick, transparent liquid, with a whitish lump of flesh floating inside. "A rather naive way of looking at things."

She carefully placed the cylinder in the bottom of a metal bowl on the table and covered it with a towel.

"But even so." She continued. "I fit your ideal quite well. I protected the lord, and I protected you. Killing when necessary."

You didn't just kill. You abused, you tortured, you purposely caused suffering, you dismembered... Taer listed, and every vestige of her shuddered at the memory, literally sick with revulsion.

"You mean the interrogation?" The other one thought, absent-mindedly running her fingernail over her lips. Taer only now noticed that she had long, carefully manicured fingernails covered with pearlescent nail polish in a false pattern. "Well, it's a military necessity. I did what I could to get the most information in the least amount of time. Or are you talking about what came afterward?" She suddenly perked up, and her smile became eerily predatory. "That was indeed somewhat extravagant." The one in the reflection laughed, gracefully covering her mouth with her palm like a socialite. "But it was your wish, and I just decided to pamper you. Have you forgotten?"

Taer suddenly remembered lying there, unable to move, in absolute darkness:

"Altered structures, symbiotes, artificial organs, and exotissue kits." Enumerated a gruff, irritated voice from above. "We must wait for a full calculation. It's too dangerous otherwise. This isn't human. It's a veritable exhibition of advanced biotechnology. If it's even human." The voice added uncertainly. "And not a chimera."

"Yes?" The other voice inquired lazily, and Taer felt the stranger's hand touch her skin in a masterly way, running up her stomach to her chest. "It looks very human..."

He... He touched me. Taer remembered her impotent rage at someone touching her helpless body. How she had mentally wriggled, trying to move at least, and swore to herself, going mad with rage, that she would rip the bastard's arm off and make him eat it...

"What a creep." Smiled condescendingly at her reflection. "Well, he got what he deserved, then. Maybe you should be a little grateful to your protector."

I...I didn't want to. Taer objected hesitantly, realizing that it was nothing. She wanted to, very much so.

"You mean there will be no thanks?" The "other" rolled her eyes. "Always the story," she sighed sadly, "services already rendered are worthless."

I, uh, wanted this. Taer admitted with difficulty. But it was emotion, and it was wrong, nasty.

"Who makes the rules?" The one in the mirror shrugged indifferently. "And why restrain your artistic impulses, even if they go beyond the ordinary? Everyone needs some kind of realization, and I like to pamper... Especially the relationship between you and me is much more intimate. I'm in you and you're in me. And in relationships, it is very important to meet each other, to give some small joys, to make small gifts."

I don't want such a gift.

"Oh, you're so capricious." The "other" laughed. "Well, do you want me to buy you an ice cream?"

What ice cream? Taer was stunned. Is she kidding me?

"Whatever you want." She shrugged. "I don't really know much about it. I just thought ice cream was a universal gift for little girls. But everyone has their own preferences."

Let me just die. Taer asked tiredly.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"That I can guarantee you." Totally serious, the "other" assured her. "Everyone dies someday. Even the very fabric of the universe will disappear one day."

Let me die now. She would have cried at that moment if she could still cry. I don't want to live like this, I don't want to see myself cease to be a human being under the control of an insane guider.

"But I've got things to do..." The "other" made a sad face. "And besides, you don't have to worry about something so stupid. You've never been human, and that's fine. You'd think it was something good."

Is she mocking me? Or is she just crazy? Or... Taer was very frightened for a moment, remembering those voices. Am I a chimera? But chimeras don't have the abilities of adepts. Nor do clones. Not even those born in an incubator. She remembered with relief. I'm human... I'm still human.

"Everyone chooses their own delusions." She commented on her thoughts. "But think about it. We can distinguish three levels of humanity: physical-biological, mental, and cultural. And on all three--" The "other" was suddenly silent, as if listening to something.

"It seems one smart little girl has decided to chat with us after all." She said, at last, smiling with predatory anticipation. "Let's pause for a moment. We have a curious conversation to have."

Taer indeed felt a faint shadow of interest emanating from the icy stream in her head, and that interest was directed at the infoblock that lay on the table.

The infoblock tinkled melodiously, and in the corner of the huge mirrored holo screen, a warning of an incoming call appeared. A call from Countess Durlurl.

Is she in the capital? Taer wondered, a little nervous from old memory, she never liked calls from her superiors albeit former ones. Or is it a redirect from the instant communication?

"No, she's in the capital." The "other" replied, calmly watching the ringing infoblock. "At least a few hours since she arrived. I guess figuring out what happened took some time, plus the ships had to get into position. It's not like she knows where we are. Time to deploy the antennas."

The call was repeated over and over again, and the "other" wasn't even going to answer:

You can disconnect the call if you don't want to answer. Taer suggested, somewhat hoping the 'other' would do so. She felt some anxiety over the Countess' call. What's there to worry about now, though? If she's going to shoot herself anyway.

"Well, of course, I'll answer it. But you have to give her time to worry a little bit, build theories....."

Guider ended up waiting for maybe two minutes before answering the call.

Countess Durlurl appeared on the screen, wearing a light summer dress that was more like a picnic dress. It matched her youthful appearance very well. But judging from the background, the Countess was not at a picnic but in the cabin of some ship and was very anxious:

"Taer, I happened to be in the capital, and I found out..."

"Estal!" With a wide smile, the other interrupted her. "It's so good to see you..."

The Countess had somehow become shrunken and shriveled up as if her true age were showing through the mask of her usual ostentatious frivolity. And the look... Most importantly, the look in her ice-cold eyes. It was like she was looking through a scope. Taer had only seen the Countess so angry a couple of times in her life, and it wasn't because she didn't like to be called by her full name - "Estal" instead of "Esta."

On the screen, the Countess remained motionless, but at that moment, a pop with the sound of breaking glass was heard from the iron bowl on the table. The towel that covered it fluttered up, acquiring a large wet spot right in the center.

"... You look great." The other one kept complimenting her, not reacting to what had happened. "And that dress? It goes well with your hair and earrings."

The Countess, not reacting to the stream of compliments, was clearly assessing the situation, thinking about what to do next, and her icy gray eyes were boring into Taer. She would have disappeared under that gaze, but the one who controlled her body didn't care.

"Don't be silent, my dear." By the tone, you'd think the guider was coaxing a cranky child. "Or are you sulking that I named you Estal? But I like that name so much. Estal." Again she repeated. "It plays so nicely on the tongue."

The Countess exhaled heavily as if deciding on a heavy, unpleasant task:

"I didn't expect to be able to talk." She answered at last.

"Surprise!" The other smiled, spreading her arms as if to embrace her. "Are you happy?"

"I had hoped to catch Taer still," Durlurl said, and it was obvious that she was having a hard time with this conversation.

"And she's still here. We could even let you two talk. But..." "The 'other' took a pause and added with a little wince. "She's still at the stage where it's hard to get anything other than "What's going on?" and "What did you do to me?". You know."

"I understand." The Countess nodded, her lips tightening.

"Better tell me how you're doing." Changed the subject guider. "How's the husband? And you realize I just have to ask about family plans... On the other hand, you're obviously not comfortable talking right now, in front of strangers." She added in a slightly concerned tone. "You're probably right. But that's okay. I'm a little busy right now, but I can promise you that in the next three or four decades, I'll be sure to make time and find you wherever you are to have a proper chat with you."

"The other" spoke in a very happy and friendly tone, as if they were two cronies, but even Taer realized that a threat had been voiced.

"Don't." Hastily replied the Countess, maybe even too hastily. "Give me three minutes." She asked and disconnected.

The holo screen faded, and after a moment, it turned silver again, turning into a mirror.

Is she afraid of me? Taer thought with surprise. Or rather her...

"She has such a cute face when she's scared." laughed the "other". She reached forward and lifted the towel off the iron bowl.

In the bowl were shards of glass with pinkish traces of flesh and drips of liquid that filled the specimen cylinder.

"Well, isn't it sweet?" The guider commented on the mess and threw the towel back in. "No code phrases or attempts at damage control. Straight to the point."

Is that what was in my head? Taer suddenly realized. So she tried to kill me?

"Well, of course." The "other" shrugged as if it were something perfectly natural. "And you have a lot of resentment for someone who recently tried to burn your face off. At least you wouldn't have had time to feel anything.

She took out cigarettes and a lighter from a small but very stylish purse lying next to her on the couch. She opened the pack and lit one:

"How else could she react if the weapons system lost stability?" Guider asked, exhaling a blue stream of smoke. "What an abomination." She wrinkled her nose and picked up the packet and turned it over. "They call this 'clergy'?" The "other" was clearly indignant, and still wrinkling her tongue as if trying to taste the flavor more accurately. "Horrible, disgusting. Just impossible. That will have to be dealt with first."

She tossed the pack into the large black bag by the table with a disgruntled sigh and took another puff:

"You could try to play isolation, damage control. Try to fix it... But on the foreign ground? With potentially huge political risks? That's just stupid."

The call signaled again on the infoblock screen, though it must have been less than three minutes.

This time she didn't wait, she answered the call right away:

"You did call back," She smiled, flicking the ash from her cigarette into the bowl where the broken container remained. "So you had some idea of what to offer? Well, then, don't bore me."

Let's make an arrangement." The Countess began in a businesslike tone. "Let's make a personalized deal."

"Why not?" Guider shrugged. "I love bargains of all kinds. What do you want?"

"Kill them. All of them." Durlurl suggested with an unhealthy glint in her eyes.

"Out of the question." The other one shook her head and sipped her cigarette. "I have plans for them."

"So ka," Durlurl mumbled though she had clearly expected that answer as well. "Then I'd like to just buy personal safety for myself and my husband."

"And for the husband, too? The guider counselor raised an eyebrow slightly. "The ability of some people to find happiness in married life never ceases to amaze me. What do you suggest?"

"I could have passed along the information about the bookmarks. It wasn't the only one."

"I don't know how interesting that is..." The "other" stretched out, leaning back and blowing a stream of smoke into the ceiling. "Yeah, well, I guess if you don't get some signaling molecule in time, some organelle will degenerate into a virus and start building up a lethal dose of toxin right in your brain, so you don't have to mess with the gene barrier. Horrible." She concluded lazily, still staring into the stream. "But Taer was planned for long missions with possible flights. That's only three decades of pure logistics. Plus an execution time of three to four, if not more, plus a margin for error. I figure I've got at least half a year, plenty of time."

"Do you have anything better?" She asked the Countess, bringing herself to an upright position again.

The Countess shrugged and disappeared from the screen, changing to an image of a large isolation stasis container with biohazard signs:

"This is what's been cut out of the body to ensure compatibility." Commented the Countess's voice from behind the frame. "Ovaries, lungs, fragments of the pituitary gland and hypothalamus, that sort of thing. I don't know about you, but maybe it would be of interest to Taer? Since she's still here?"

What do you mean, cut out? Taer had thought all this time that she had no periods because of the implant like everyone else in the Fleet. She felt robbed. Her most precious possession had been stolen from her, literally a part of her. They silently cut out my organs without even telling me?! She was truly outraged. Mine!

She didn't know what gave her the strength, perhaps just a wild wave of genuine indignation, but for a moment, she regained some control over her body.

"She has absolutely no bargaining skills," the guder rolled her eyes, her finger stroking a drooping eyelid and part of her cheek. "She's curious." She added with a smile.

"Very well." Durlurl nodded with a formal smile, reappearing on the screen. "Of course, it will take time to deliver. It's all left on Fyron..."

"She's interested." Expressively repeated the "other," interrupting the Countess. "I'm still thinking."

"How can I influence your decision?" The Countess asked politely.

"In your case, it will be enough just properly ask." She smiled at her.

"I don't quite understand you," Durlurl replied to her, growing gloomy again.

"You understand everything perfectly." Shook her head the 'other' continued to smile. "Well? How should good smart little girls ask?"

The Countess was silent, staring at the screen for about a minute, and the guider only smiled back at her. Finally, she gave up:

"Please, Mom." Durlurl spat out angrily.

Mom? Taer was stunned. Mom?!

But a surging torrent of ice immediately squeezed her somewhere in the back of her mind.

"How can you say no to those eyes?" Laughed the other one. "I'll contact you when everything is delivered." She added in a more businesslike tone and clicked on the infoblock cutting the connection before Countess Durlurl could answer her.

"Taer..." She sighed miserably and closed her eyes tiredly, plunging everything into darkness. "Do you realize how exhausting your emotional outbursts are?" Sounded her voice in the darkness. "How much crap do you secrete into your bloodstream?"

The icy torrent inside her mind subsided a little, giving her some space to just be able to think:

They cut out a part of me. Taer growled mentally, feeling the incipient anger give her strength. And she just tried to kill me! In cold blood. No attempt to find out what happened, no help at all. Disposed of like a used napkin...

"And what do you intend to do?" The icy words sounded back at her.

Me? she said, surprised and confused. We made a deal... And then, you're stronger, Taer admitted reluctantly, And her mom...

"Taer..." Her eyes opened, and Taer saw herself again in the reflection of the holoscreen.

The other laughed softly, covering her forehead tiredly with her palm, but it seemed to be a laugh of helplessness. "You're such a child... We made a deal." Teased the 'other'. "You really think that's the end of it? That you'd get your guts, and that would be the end of it? That Estal's just gonna back down because he's afraid of me? Well, think again." Tiredly, the guider offered, looking into the holo-mirror of the screen. "You've known her for years."

The Countess Durlurl that Taer knew was not the kind of person to back down from her decisions:

So, soon, she's going to try to kill me again? Or rather us, or you? Taer corrected herself, realizing that this was definitely not about her.

"Not necessarily soon." The guider shrugged. "She's not completely free to act. The situation has changed, many people have to be informed, and a new plan has to be devised, agreed upon, and only then executed. But the threat remains. I refused to be helpful. Of course, she'll make at least one more attempt. But that's what you want, isn't it?"

I don't like it when they try to help me leave my life without me asking for it.

"You're so whimsical, after all." The other shook her head with obvious irony.

So there's really no deal?

"Why, Estal might actually bring that container if she thinks it's buying time."

Then why did you agree to it?

"Well, you're so anxious to get back what you've been doing so well without."

Just because of that? Taer felt the presence of some other reason, like a subtle aroma of spices. Can thoughts have an odor? Perhaps it was just a play of her imagination.

"As long as Estal thinks she has time, she won't pester." The guidance counselor condescended to explain.

Are you really her mother? inquired Taer cautiously, who had no way of putting Countess Durlurl's phrase into her head.

"Depends on the meaning of the word. But, it's true." The guider nodded.

Then why is she afraid of you? The Countess Durlurl she knew was afraid of no one, no one at all. And why did she try to kill you in the first place?

"Because I'm really scary." The guider smiled. "And because Estal genuinely believes that without me, the world will be a much safer and more predictable place. And, in fact, she's quite right." She added with a playful wink at her reflection.

"All right." The 'other' got up from the couch in a hurry. "We should go. We have so much to do. Besides, we shouldn't tempt Estal before the time. She already has a position of the infoblock and our coordinates."

Do you think she might send someone?

"That would be stupid of her." Quickly the other replied, stuffing her things, into a large black bag. "Risky, and there's hardly any time to work it out. But it is possible, for example, to drop the ship. Preferably at a decent speed and loaded with fuel to compensate for possible inaccuracy and movement of the target. Also, of course, it is difficult to organize in time, but the chance of success is higher. That's what I'd do."

There's no way to hide it.

"Why hide it? A terrible tragedy, we bring our condolences, weep at the funeral, compensation to the families of the victims, pensions to the orphaned and disadvantaged from the House... That's how it is." Added with a sigh "the other" and, throwing her bag on her shoulder along with a model handbag, headed for the exit, picking up a bowl with the remains of the container in her hand.

Taer imagined a huge fireball on the surface of the capital, devouring the fragile boxes of buildings as it grew:

So many deaths and only because of me or you?

"What does he see in you?" Somewhere in the void, "the other" asked, stopping in front of the door. "Well, think about it. These are people. All they do is die. In the capital, on Talis alone, more than half a million people die every hour. What is an extra hundred, two hundred, or even three hundred thousand deaths of commoners? Nothing. But in doing so, an important problem could be solved."

Humans are not statistics.

"Unfortunately, it is statistics. The vast majority of people are a statistical mass with no influence on anything, noticeable only by their gross product and described by equations painfully similar to those describing friction. Worse still, they do everything to remain this statistical mass and use their brains as little as possible, creating an environment where their descendants are doomed to repeat this senseless circle. Although, humans as a species are quite intelligent and maybe even smart. That's where the tragedy lies, and death is simply an inevitability for all who are born."

Taer didn't object to the obviously insane guider. She could see the twisted but still recognizable tenets of the Church of the Flame, or even the Sororitas, and their sermons had made her sick to her stomach since she was a child.

Opening the door, the "other" casually tossed the bowl into the disposal and stepped out into the hallway.

It'll break, Taer said indifferently. You can't throw large metal objects into the disposal unit.

"Of course." The guider hummed to herself as she headed for the elevator platform. "But before it breaks down, it's going to heat up properly with radiation.

It was clearly an apartment building with apartments for quick rent. There were long yellow panels of payment terminals near the front doors, but the details were already slipping away from Taer. The reality was once again disintegrating like a kaleidoscope and floating around her.

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