Control
#4 of B-Snakes
Many things you fear have been in place for years.
-Dilated Peoples, "Back Again"
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Dervish Loint had been in many, many cells before. Usually voluntarily; you got into the *oddest* places when you're the sole member of a guerrilla campaign to hunt down a horny parasitic macrovirus.
But interrogation...that was different. There was an art to interrogation. Stagecraft, really; the scene had to be set before your interviewer even got there. There had to be a *mood*.
Preferably, abject terror.
The room was clean, and white. The table and both chairs were stainless steel, as were the manacles that bound Dervish. She'd tested them-not much slack. Two doors, one on the left and the right. The suspect gets tense, tries to figure out which door the interrogator is going to come through.
Dervish didn't bother. She just waited.
Eventually, the door opened, and a general walked in. A Scottie, more or less, with no medals or name tag. Nothing other than the uniform and the rank insignia.
Showtime. This guy was military, so he was going to be looking for answers, order. He was going to follow the script.
But her? She preferred improv.
The general reached the chair. He had a folder under his arm, which he opened and placed on the table. Something flickered, and ghostly images swam into view. White rectangles with text on them. The dog poked around, rearranging, and suddenly Derv was looking at the Scottie through her own UNF enlistment image.
"I've always hated that photo," she said.
"Doctor...Learnt?"
"Loint. This week."
"Sorry. You go through so many of these. We've had a hard time keeping up."
"Have you now?" Devish rested her elbows on the table, and folded her hands over each other in her very best Mysterious Seductress manner. "You seem to have caught up to me quite well."
"Would you rather be called by your real name?"
"'Doctor Loint' is fine. 'Free woman' would be even better."
The dog closed the folder, and laced his hands together on the tabletop. "Well!" he said brightly. "You seem decidedly *not* dead."
"I'm working on that."
"You're a hard woman to track down, Doctor. We thought the "Tiberius" had been lost with all hands."
"The ship was infested with c-snakes. According to UNF General Order 13443-1, once infestation reaches five percent-"
"Yes, I know. But why are *you* still alive?"
"The b-snakes."
"Ah, yes; those remarkable little parasites of yours." He opened the folder, and poked at the files. "We've learned quite a lot about them, from your, mmm, damsels in distress. You should really stick around to teach them how to use those things correctly."
"I prefer walking the earths."
"We know." He bought up what looked like a transcript." 'She says her name isn't important. She has saved lives, planets, so many times and most beings never even knew she was there. She never stops. She never stays. She never asks to be thanked.'"
There was a pause.
"And?" Dervish said brightly.
The folder shut with a faint snapping noise. "Who was it?"
"Who?"
"The c-snakes were frozen, in a locker. The only people with access were your direct superior and senior crew members, and neither of them-"
"It was Sadie."
For the first time during the entire meeting, the general seemed surprised. "Doctor Ashish? But I thought-"
"She went mad." Derv closed her eyes, suddenly tired. "I had to put her down myself. She had...merged with them, somehow, and was babbling some rot about 'the next level' and 'distributed consciousness' and 'l-l-look at you hacker' and 'someone named 'Ann Rand' right up until I put a bullet in what was left of her brain. Maybe the snakes thought having a frontbeing would give them legitimacy, I don't know."
"Interesting." The general opened the folder and made a note. "Did you ever see her release them?"
"No, but she was the only one not dead. Besides me."
"How do I know it wasn't *you*?"
"Would I have spent years of my life chasing c-snakes if it was? My reproductive peak, I'd like to point out."
"My heart bleeds. And no, I don't suppose you would. Unless, as some of our best men theorize, you have some sort of deep-seated guilt-"
"Excellent deductions." Loint said, clapping sarcastically. "Now for a few of my own. I'm guessing those bubbleheads outside were the secret product Sadie was working on before she died."
"She-"
"Wasn't supposed to talk about it, I know. She was not prevented, however, from talking about the fact that she *had* been working on something before being assigned to the Tiberius. Given that it had something to do with Section Five, and she invoked UNF general order 13443-1, it's pretty obvious that she was helping to develop some sort of weapon. And I kept coming across these rumours; mysterious troopers who fight c-snakes, with guns that are a lot more effective than the ol' FD-25."
"That's-"
"Classified, I know. But given the way their hands shake-ever so slightly-I'd say they'll all be dead within a year or two."
Silence.
"How radioactive is it, general?"
The general rubbed his eyes. "More than we thought."
"So you *thought* you had them properly protected?"
"Yes. Turned out the Atonium-31 was emitting a certain type of radiation we forgot to check for."
"The cancer would be in the head or upper torso, right? Lungs?"
"Lymphatic."
"Do they know?"
"Yes."
"Is it treatable?"
The Scottie with the tired eyes looked at the woman across from him. "Barely. But they don't want to waste time."
"Waste...?"
"Time they could spend fighting."
An awkward silence.
"D'you know what I hear?" Dervish asked suddenly. "A million voices, crying out in terror. You can't, of course, because this room is soundproofed, but I have had to walk among the suffering. I have had to look in their faces and *watch them die*."
"You've had to kill a few yourself."
Derv stopped. "Yes."
"Why did you run? Why didn't you come to us?"
Dervish Loint looked down at her manacled hands, and smiled a little bitter smile. "I was afraid you'd lock me up."
+++++
It was bright where she was.
She looked down; somehow, she was covered in light. Light that bathed the countless beings before her. All in sight were bowed heads, more than there were stars in the sky.
Submitting.
And at her side was an equal and opposite darkness, the one being whom she would kneel before, who would absolve her of her terrible burden. She didn't want to think anymore, she just wanted to exist, to be. No more hurt, no more loss, no more pain.
Oblivion was a small price to pay.
Suddenly the land shook, a blunt, ugly noise like a fist hammering something.
(A bulkhead,) someone whispered, and she turned to find no one there but the adoring masses. Oddly, they were heaving like a wave, like the ground itself had turned to an ocean, thousands disappearing with each swell-
"No."
She turned to the dark one, her queen, only to find her flickering as well.
"No!" said Monique, and woke up.
She was in a cell, her world constrained to grey walls and a window and a bunk a library terminal and a globe-headed trooper hitting the bulkhead.
"Wake up! It's your wedding day!"
Monique looked down. Oh, right. Her b-snakes had woven themselves into something that was half a wedding dress, half the type of outfit worn by women who worked in exclusive little establishments with no signs out front.
"So, what's our little Bride thinking of on her wedding day, hmm? Something old, something new?"
Monique slowly raised her eyes to the trooper. She couldn't see their eyes or tell their gender or species, but she just *knew* they were grinning. She imagined them on their knees, begging for mercy.
She smiled. "I was having the most wonderful dream."
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"I don't know what you expect us to have done-"
"You could've *warned* them!" Dervish raged. "You could've done more than sit around with your thumbs up your bums, being a-a-all cryptofacist!"
"We *are* doing something. We're offering you a job."
That stopped Derv. "What?"
"There's a certain base we have down there. Abandoned, but due to a glitch, there's a mainframe that wasn't scrubbed. We need you to get down there and destroy it."
"You mean wipe the data."
"No, we mean destroy it. Wipe the data, then blow up the mainframe."
Dervish blinked.
"Let me get this straight: you don't warn Galatea until it's too late, you have secret troopers fighting an invisible war who are dying even as they fight, you are f-bombing the planet *as we speak*, and you want me to *help* you?"
"We're not so different, Doctor. Both trying to save the worlds, both making unimaginable sacrifices, and we'll both die with no one knowing who we are."
"Speak for yourself. If you'll recall, I'm already dead."
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Monique couldn't see any way out.
She had always been an optimist, and look where it had gotten her; her entire planet, dead. Oh, sure, there would be people with safehouses or panic rooms or bomb shelters, but the f-bomb hadn't been developed during the last war.
Focus.
The thing about optimism was that it only worked when there was a reasonable chance of success, like finding a paper to pay you to write words. Not an apocalypse. There was absolutely nothing she could-
Wait.
That was it.
Without lifting her head from her hands, without shifting on her little bench, Monique reached for her b-snakes.
She had...touched them a few times, thoughout this, the worst day of her life. She had always flinched, always recoiled, finding the sheer force of them to be overwhelming. Like looking into the sun.
It was easier, now, to simply let a few of them through. She found the sun was more tolerable, as if she were wearing sunglasses. "Help?" she asked.
There was the impression of some chatter, then a feeling of impatience.(Finally.) Inside her mind, it felt like the light had narrowed to a single beam. Still intense, though.
"Are you Gene?"
There was a pause. ('Freya'. Pad by door?)
"Yeah..."
(Standard UNF prisoner interface. Library, not network?)
"I suppose."
(Go.)
Monique did, and her bodysuit suddenly split into several tentacles, tapping at the pad. (Only soft-isolated from network. Still physical connection. Sloppy. Have Marcel's skills.)
Monique ignored the faint pang. "Meaning?"
Smug satisfaction. (Jailbreak.)
Monique smiled.
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"Beautiful and terrible as the dawn," Dervish muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Dervish flexed her head a little, shifted in her seat. She trained the reflection from her cuffs on the dog's eyes, trying to make him flinch. Anything to gain control of the situation. He didn't blink. Strange.
"Our exit was...rushed."
She leaned to the left a little, just enough to see a dancing light on the wall behind her interrogator. He was only partially opaque. A mobile holotransmitter. Of course; no brass worth their salt would risk their neck-or other things-by getting anywhere near a b-snake host.
The Scottie slid a pad across the table. "We can't let the c-snakes-or the public-get at this information."
So much for taking a hostage; he wasn't even in the room. Whoever was in charge-probably UNF section five-they were *good*. Now she couldn't wrap her arm around his neck, send a few snakes down his throat-or *up* something else entirely. They wouldn't think of scanning his rectum, would they-
"You'll be fitted with a DMB; we can monitor you remotely, and if you are compromised in any way, or act in a manner detrimental to the mission, it'll blow your brain into a wet-Are you even listening to me, Dr. Loint?"
Derv looked up at the ceiling. "No. Not anymore."
And Monique dropped out of a vent onto the general.
"Mornin'," she said. The hologram wrapped around her, trying to compensate, until she plucked the transmitter out from under her tail and shut it off.
Dervish seemed stunned. "How-"
"I hacked their megahertz."
"*What?*"
Monique reached across the table. Dervish took her hand, and they both flinched as each got an update on the other.
Outside, one of the guards-her name was Abeni-swore and reached for the door's numberpad. She had gotten five of the numbers in before she heard a screeching noise.
The airlock.
Someone had overridden the safety controls, causing her and her comrade to fly down the corridor.
Abeni wondered why the ship's designers had even put the airlocks so close to the detention blo-oh yeah, that was why.
"Well, that's taken care of," Monique said as she turned away from the door. "The way I see it, we'd be unable to take over this ship and jump before we were killed. I think we take our chances groundside. We might as well check out this lab-" She tapped the pad on the table between them. "At least then we might get some leverage. What do you think?"
Dervish blinked at her, her eyes filling with tears.
"What? Is something wrong?"
"I'm just...just so *proud* of you," Dervish whispered.
+++++
Some time later, a pissed-off Scottie general surveyed the damage. Unlike his holographic avatar, he was chewing on an unlit cigar, and flanked by two globe-helmeted Biological Suppression troopers. An astute observer might have noted that for all they towered over the general, they were cringing slightly.
"-one gunship, and your holotransmitter," one said, reading off his helmet display. "No casualties. Trooper First Class Abeni and Trooper First Class Pavel are in Sickbay-"
"Where did they *go*?" the General growled around his cheroot. The suits blocked the BioSes senses of smell, but it they didn't need them to tell their boss was in a killing mood.
"They're moving in the direction of B-base, sir."
"Of course." He took a deep breath. "Lock onto their transponder signal. Once they're in range, hack their systems *and* tractor 'em into a docking bay with an AE field set up. Make sure to disable any onboard weapons; we are not going to take *any* chances."
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She could fly a ship.
Monique Borgier could fly a ship.
It wasn't a surprise, if she thought about it logically. Obviously, her b-snakes had...assimilated someone who could pilot a gunship at some point. There were gaps in her knowledge, errors, but she found that there was *more* information behind that, and she could puzzle out the rest.
Dervish had a plan.
She hadn't told Monique what the plan *was*, preferring to sit in the shadows of the gunship, someone's fatigue jacket pulled up over her head. She said she had a headache, but she was watching a movie-
And Monique found that she recognized the movie.
(one piece, or several)
Dervish had seen it before, years ago. With Maurice, at a classic
(never start with the head)
film festival. She had missed most of it, burrowing her head into Maureen's-no, Maurice's chest, but she downloaded it later, and had kept a copy by her through med school and basic and her first few tours. And then after Tiberius, she had lost her copy, she'd downloaded it whenever possible, whenever she could
(there's no going back)
you fake the credit records, new names. She had made a list, once, when she was ever so small, of names she'd choose for herself. Princess names, special names. She worked through the ones she could remember in no time flat, and they weren't so special at all
(see, to them you're just a freak)
barely remembered her real name. You couldn't leave anything for them to track you by
(like me)
had to muddy the trail
(it's a sick joke)
you held on to the little things. Jewelry, food, that iced coffee with the made-up name you could only get at that one coffee chain
"See," said both females, right in time with the man on the screen. "I'm not a monster; I'm just ahead of the curve." They looked at each other and grinned.
There was a beeping noise.
"What was that?" said Dervish, standing up.
"Um...I think it's a missile lock. Some computer at our destination wants us to stand down, unless we can give a code."
"You have a code?"
"Nuh-huh."
"I don't either. It might've been a good idea to listen to the general for a while longer."
"We'll have to remember that, next time," said Monique, and started looking for parachutes.
+++++
It was much cooler inside the base.
Monique had managed to scavenge a sonic screwdriver from the wreckage, and it opened a service door on the leeward side of B-Base that someone hadn't locked properly.
"Nice to know what my tax money is buying," Dervish muttered.
"You're a deserter and a fugitive. You're not paying taxes."
"Okay, what my tax money would've bought." Dervish held both hands in front of her in a passable imitation of a salesman's manner. "Ma'am, have you considered the benefits of alternative genitalia?"
"I like my bits just the way they are, thank you."
After a few more minutes of banter, they managed to find a working terminal. The lights came on with the computer, and Dervish walked around while her friend pecked at the keys.
"This looks like a lab. And *that* looks like a specimen tank."
"That's nice."
The curved glass column was familiar, somehow. Dervish touched it lightly. Monique swore in Galatean.
"A little trouble?"
"Better security than I expected. Marcel and his coworkers were up on the latest and greatest, but this ...this doesn't actually *exist*."
"The password is 'swordfish'."
Monique dutifully keyed it in.
"Was that right?"
"Of course it wasn't right," Monique said, pecking at the keyboard. "Your military has always been so *inefficient*."
"They're not 'my' military."
"There, pwned."
"I don't see what chess has to with this." Derv looked at the display for a second, and then randomly poked at a file. Pause.
"No," she said.
She opened another random file. The same denial, the same flat tone. And another. And another.
Monique wasn't any expert on humans, but she thought Dervish looked...odd. Her head was stretching out, there were cords in her neck, and there was a strange, fixed grin on her face.
"They did it," the human said, slipping out of Galatean and into her native tongue. "The sons of...cats...*did it*."
"Did what?" said Monique, wrapping her lips around the unfamiliar language.
"Do you know where c-snakes come from?"
"No..."
"Exactly! No one does! But b-snakes? They come from right here, in good old Beta-lab, on good old Galatea. That 'B' doesn't stand for 'Bondage', or even 'Black'. It stands for 'Beta'. As in the letter that comes after 'Alpha'. As in-" she hit a key, and the display suddenly filled with folders. "-there are dozens more of these things!"
Monique wondered if it meant anything special when humans slid out of their chair and under a desk.
"They did it," Dervish said. "They actually went and played around with the most dangerous lifeform in existence. The Gunmen were right."
The poodle had no idea what Gunmen her friend was referring too, nor did she care. She knelt beside the woman, and reached for her. "Dervish."
"I know what I'll do," said Dervish with a high-pitched giggle. "I'll get out of this hole, off the planet, and take over the universe! Can't screw it up much more than what we're done already! Wouldn't that be *grand*?"
"*Dervish!*"
"Wouldn't that be smashing old bean old chap old bag old bi-"
Monique slapped her.
Derv froze for a second, then leaned sobbing into the younger female's arms.
"I'm so tired." she mumbled. "So bloody *tired*. I've tried and I've tried, and they're winning anyway. What's the point?"
Monique had never heard her friend being so...*bleak* before. It was like she had kept the mask of the irreverent adventurer on so long that no one could see the cracks underneath.
Of course, it could be the b-snakes.
Monique's suit tensed briefly.
Being an interplanetary fugitive was bad enough without slick little things talking to you all the time. Voices in your head, the only real friends you get...it'd be no wonder if she were a little eccentric.
Heh. "If."
For that matter, what of Monique herself? Could they be eroding the edges of her mind even as she help her weeping friend?
As if to reassure her, her bodysuit tightened slightly. Was that their idea of a hug? (Trust us,) they said.
(Why should I?) Monique thought.
A hand gripped her arm. Dervish's, the strained grin gone from her face. The tears remained. (Because we have to.) She shrugged. "They are our only hope."
+++++
"What's your name?" Monique said from under the console of their second, brand new, gunship. The UNF ships had put them on autopilot as soon as they got out of the base.
"Hmm?"
(you either die a hero)
"You told the General that your real name wasn't Dervish Loint." Monique wrenched a part out of its socket. "What is it?"
Silence. Monique peeked, and realized that Dervish was looking at her. Not even watching the movie, just...staring.
(become the villain)
"What?"
"You're the first one who's ever asked. Who's ever asked and meant it, I mean. Not like those guys who want my name, and then my birthdate, and *then* they say they bet I'm a Leo."
"Dervish, seriously. We need to trust each other. We need a plan. And we can start off on the first one if you'd just tell me your name."
Derv looked surprised.
"All right," she said.
+++++
Some time later, the gunship landed neatly the bay of the corvette BRAGA, and was promptly surrounded by BioS troopers.
"Wow, deja vu," Derv said. "Ready?"
"Dulce et decorum est," Monique quoted. "And, um, no."
"Fine, I'll go alone. But I am *not* bringing you any ice cream."
A lithe figure dropped from the hovering ship.
"Doctor, doctor, what can I do?" snarled the Scottie. Behind his troops, of course. Better not get to close, even with the Anti-Engagement field up. "I've got a bad way of capturing you."
If they could've, the troopers would've rolled their eyes at each other. Since their helmets were more or less opaque, they contented themselves with wincing.
"Look at you, general." Loint said suddenly. "A pathetic creature of meat and bone, striving desperately to cover his arse."
The general took a step back. Then Loint grinned.
"Always wanted to say that." She shifted into the more relaxed posture he had seen in the interrogation room.
"There's no escape, Doctor Loint. Not unless I lower the field."
"Ah, yes, the Anti-Engagement field. No small-arms fire, organic material, or anything moving faster than air molecules can get through as long as it's working, right?
"That's correct-"
"Thank you. APPLE!"
The gunship's guns pods deployed, and swiveled to point directly at the field.
"What-" said the General.
"Yes, you hacked the gunship and remote-disabled all the weapons, as per protocol. Good boy. What you forgot is that if the weapons are switched to manual targeting and disconnected, they read as "Out of Order" anyway. Also; fire."
A standard AE field could take pretty much anything up to and including a light machine gun. The UNF GPW-3125 minigun, however, overtaxed it a little.
The crew, at the other end of the bay, ducked as high-velocity rounds tore into the equipment and vehicles. Strangely, the fire was aimed above their heads. Then the sound of the impacts changed; instead of the noise of lead and copper hitting expensive military hardware, it sounded more like....rubber.
Something plopped wetly onto the floor. Several somethings. A specialist looked down to find a bunch of shiny little slugs.
The BioS troops had already opened fire on Loint, only to have their rounds go straight through her.
"Whoops," said the doctor. "Did I forget to mention that I'm using your holgram thingie, and that we picked up a few b-snakes in the nicest little town called Etrom? There's nobody alive there, of course, because *some*one let some b-snakes out."
The gun pods swivelled to point at the BioS, and the general, and opened fire. First a few b-snakes to gum up the guns, then a few live rounds to penetrate their suits and skin, and a few more b-snakes. The General instantly snapped into shock as his limbs caught fire. Or that's what it felt like.
(Is this pain? I think this is what pain feels like.)
The hologram flickered, and both Loint and the Bride dropped out of the gunship. The real ones, the Scottie realized, as he could smell them both. Confidence from the human, and a sad resignation from the dog. There was also the bit where Loint kicked him.
Ow.
"Take 'em, boys."
The BioS troopers rose, like puppets, moving towards their comrades in arms. Anyone in the bay would be converted in no time, and then they'd take over the ship. And then the next ship. And maybe the entire fleet. The general tried to stand, to move, to do *something*-
"Sit, boy," she said, and he collapsed, growling. "Oh, and this-" the kick snapped a rib-"is for Sadie. You sonsaguns *framed*-"kick-" her, just to test me. You killed an entire *ship* full of people, just to test the b-snakes. You knew it'd send her over the edge, but *you* didn't *care* because you *needed* a *weapon* to *fight* the *c-snakes*!" Pause for breath. "I've *tried* playing along. I've *tried* being nice. And y'know what? From now on we do it *my* way." She bent down and relieved him of his handgun. "This'll come in handy. Save some for me, boys!"
And she left.
The one in white-the Bride-bent down, and touched-just touched-his lips. She watched Loint walk away, and spoke softly.
"She-" the Bride flinched at the gunfire. "She doesn't think you've been doing a very good job. But don't worry: it'll be better." She stood up. "It'll *all* be better."
And she finally looked at him, from what seemed like a great height.
"All hail the queen," she said.
THE END
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2008 Nequ. Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0.
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
Based on C-snakes, a fictional species created by Alyn Gryphon.