“Need I remind you the value and importance of Miss Weaver, Colonel Webster?” the displeased voice said over a secure connection in Tyson Webster’s private quarters.

The Colonel stared at the multicolor uplighting that ran the length of the wall and drained the rest of his aged scotch. He swirled his glass, clinking the nearly melted ice cubes together and then rose from behind the desk to pour himself another.

“I am aware of her value; I’m the one who brought her in.”

“What good is it if we can’t keep her, though? We need her on our side. Do you think being beaten within an inch of her life accomplishes that?”

“First of all, it was an unfortunate hazing incident that went too far… I should have expected something like it, and I will be sure to amend the training manual for any similar future occurrences.

“Secondly, where else is she going to go? Back home to be a space miner? I don’t think so.”

“She’s got family there,” the Senator said.

“After basic, she’ll have family here. Besides, her psych eval indicates that we have something that she can’t get back home…”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“We provide her with a challenge. Her psyche thrives on accomplishing goals. Her problem was she never really had any until we brought her here. As long as we keep feeding her missions, all reports indicate she’ll be a top performer.”

The Colonel returned with his freshened drink and put his heels up on his desk. “Believe me, Senator, despite a few hiccups, everything is proceeding as planned.”

“It had better be. After all, that’s what you get paid to do, isn’t it?”

The Colonel said nothing, allowing the silence to hang in the air like a solid object he could reach out and crush between his hands. And he would have if he were able to.

“Still…” the Senator’s voice broke the silence, which Colonel Webster counted as a victory for himself, no matter how small a victory it might be. “The radiation poisoning was a stroke of genius…who knew it could counteract the serum so effectively.”

“I agree,” the Colonel said, knowing full well the suspected effect of the radiation on her physiology. He was the one who had set the plan in motion, albeit through several layers of proxies so there could be no trace back to him. This particular Senator had a large part in overseeing how the black budget was disbursed, and the Colonel was not beyond playing a little politics himself.

“Let’s see how she behaves, Colonel Webster. If there are any adverse reactions, I want to know about them before anyone else—even the good doctor.”

Colonel Tyson Webster summoned his best shit-eating grin and promised, “You’ll be the first to know.”