"Act in such a way that you always treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of any other, never simply as a means, but always at the same time as an end." – Immanuel Kant (1785)
It was times like this that an organizational chart would be helpful. Naturally, covert groups like Hadrian's Wall don't produce such documents.
Trubel knew that she, herself, was low on the totem pole, being a relatively new recruit. Meisner often told her what to do, or prevented her from doing things she wanted to do. Yet sometimes on missions she had a whole lot of autonomy; she was expected to figure out what needed to be done, and check in when she'd solved the problem. There were other people she saw around the HW facility whose jobs seemed much more circumscribed, so maybe, in a way, she outranked them.
Eve was arguably even more junior than Trubel, having come on board more recently. Most of the time Meisner bossed her around, too, though sometimes she seemed to be acting directly on orders from above. Trubel wouldn't be surprised to see the robotic woman plug herself into the computer system with a cable, like a Borg drone. She caught herself thinking about the former inhabitant of that body, smiling warmly as Trubel swiped the last piece of bacon, and frowned.
Oddly enough, most of the time, the obscure command structure of Hadrian's Wall really wasn't much of an issue. Since Chavez's death, Meisner was basically in charge, and when something was outside his scope of authority, he let them know, and he contacted the powers above him. Simple.
But now things weren't quite so simple. Meisner had been captured by a strike group from Black Claw. Hadrian's Wall's reaction – communicated through curt memos to relevant persons – was swift and aggressive. Trubel was on the counter-strike team. Their orders were to get Meisner back alive, if possible, but if not, they were to wipe out the entire Black Claw location, Meisner included. It was nothing personal; the German operative just knew too much to be left in the enemy's hands.
Much to Trubel's relief, she did not find herself in the position of having to kill her boss. In fact, the mission was a complete success. The Black Claw cell was neutralized, and Meisner was back in the compound, not much the worse for wear, thirty-six hours after he'd gone missing.
Now it was time to debrief him. Eve seemed to be in charge, and she told Trubel to be there, which prompted the younger woman to wish for an org-chart. Eve sat directly across from Meisner; Trubel pulled her own chair over so that she was positioned to the side, facing both of them at equal distance. There were a couple of guards in the room too, standing near the door. It wasn't an interrogation per se, since Meisner was obviously one of their own, but it's not like he could refuse to answer their questions either.
The questions were conveyed by Eve in her usual monotone. They went over what the Black Claw operatives had asked about, what Meisner had told them, and what they had done to persuade him to cooperate. In short, the answers were: practically everything, nothing, and not much.
The goons had wanted to know about personnel (wesen and non-wesen), equipment, supplies, funding, casualties, communication between Hadrian's Wall units, current plans, long term goals – you name it, they wanted it.
"They were all over the place. Either they were camouflaging their true interests, or they weren't very good at interrogation," Meisner speculated.
"Which do you think it was?" asked Eve.
"The latter. This was the warm-up crew. Someone mentioned that they were bringing a Gedachtnis Esser in from Iowa." He seemed remarkably blasé about the prospect of almost having his brain sucked out by a creepy octopus.
Eve went through the list of injuries Meisner had sustained – mostly contusions and electrical burns, plus a few cracked ribs. Considering the circumstances, it was a short list. You could almost see the programming code reflected in her eyes as she deliberately put a note of skepticism in her voice when she asked, "And none of this convinced you to share any information with them?"
Meisner seemed more amused than insulted. "Most of that was from me fighting with them when they grabbed me. Yah, they zapped me a few times, but I've been through worse. A lot worse."
Smug bastard. Still, Trubel found it reassuring that a little thing like being tortured for a day and a half wasn't enough to shake her superior's stoic calm.
Eve kept staring at him. He broke eye contact first.
"You are not 100% certain that you told them nothing."
Meisner sighed. "One hundred percent? No. I can't be." He nodded toward the puncture marks on his left arm. "They drugged me twice, with something like sodium thyopental. I know how to . . . manage that. You can't lie easily, but you can make stuff up, let your mind wander. I am almost sure that I didn't tell them anything useful. But there are parts I cannot remember clearly."
He seemed annoyed by this minor failure, but immediately shifted into problem solving mode. "We need to think about damage control, on the chance that I did compromise some of our people or projects. We can't pull everyone – that would be more likely to endanger them than protect them – but let's identify those most vulnerable to a security breach and . . ."
"There is another way," Eve interrupted. "I can find out what you told them."
"I don't see how. They are all dead. Perhaps, if there was anything, they communicated it to other Black Claw units. But I understand that you weren't able to trace this communication."
"I can find out from you."
"I told you, I don't remember everything."
"I can make you remember."
Trubel found this exchange disquieting, but Meisner took it in stride. "How?" he asked.
"I will enter your mind. Even if you don't consciously remember an experience, I can access it, see it through your eyes."
Trubel spoke up for the first time, "Hey, wait a minute. If you can do that, why have we been bothering with threatening people, making their mouths disappear and stuff, to get them to talk?"
Meisner tilted his head, his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. "That is a good question."
Eve explained, "Telepathy is a delicate matter. Having someone force their way into your mind is so traumatic that thoughts are . . . scattered, often permanently. It is generally not an effective method of obtaining information. Unless the subject consciously lets me in." She looked pointedly at Meisner.
To his credit, Trubel thought, Meisner did not respond immediately. He was a decisive guy, but not impulsive. After a long moment, he looked at Eve and said simply, "OK."
Eve nodded and got up, gesturing for the guards to come forward. They moved to bind Meisner's arms to the arms of the chair he was sitting in. Trubel noticed that his chair was bolted to the floor. The left-side guard succeeded in restraining that arm. The right-side guard found himself on his knees, wrist twisted as Meisner applied pressure to his hand. Not pushing through to break the man's wrist, but not letting up either, Meisner said to Eve, "What is this? I agreed to cooperate with your mind trick."
"I realize that. But the sensation will be unpleasant for you. You may react in ways that are unpleasant for me."
Trubel almost laughed – in other words, Eve didn't want Meisner punching her in the face. Having been on the receiving end of his fists, Trubel had to admit that it was a reasonable concern.
Meisner exhaled slowly, then released the poor guard. He let the man strap his arm to the chair. For the first time, however, he seemed uneasy about the situation. Trubel concurred.
"Close your eyes. Try to make your mind blank. Think of a simple shape – a blue square, for instance, that fills your field of vision. When you become aware of my presence, focus on the shape, not on me. The locus of your attention is only important for the first several seconds; once I am in, I will regulate matters."
With a hint of reluctance, Meisner closed his eyes. A minute later, Eve came to stand over him. She woged and brought her palms together, sparks gathering at the base of her hands and flowing up to the tips of her fingers. She separated her hands, and in a swift movement, brought the pad of her right middle finger into contact with the seated man's forehead.
Meisner's whole body jerked and his eyes snapped open. "Don't. Panic." Eve snarled.
He closed his eyes again and forced himself to be still as an eerie glow spread around his head and down over his shoulders, then disappeared as if absorbed into him. Eve had an expression of deep concentration on her corpse-like face; Meisner's lips were pressed together like he was in pain.
Eve pulled over a small rolling table, on which she had a tablet computer. The fingers of her left hand flew over the screen, while her right hand remained in contact with Meisner's face. Now energy was running up her fingers and arm, as if drawn out of him. Her eyes shifted back and forth between the man and the computer.
After a few minutes, she used her earpiece to make a call, presumably to their superiors, "Information transfer was negligible. I'm forwarding suggested adaptations." A pause as the other side responded inaudibly. "Understood," she signed off.
Trubel expected Eve to back off now. In truth, she wanted it to be over. Sweat glazed Meisner's skin, and every muscle was tense. Though outwardly collected, he was clearly in some distress. Thus, the young woman was not pleased when, instead of releasing him, Eve pressed more firmly against his forehead, bringing her index and ring fingers into contact too.
Meisner opened his eyes again, expression at first startled, then filled with vague horror. He began to struggle, pulling against the restraints, but they held firm. When he tried to shake free of Eve's touch, she pushed his head back more. He might be strong, but Eve had all the leverage. She stepped to the side of his chair, presumably to avoid being kicked.
"What are you doing?" Trubel challenged. "I thought you found that he didn't tell 'em anything."
"That is essentially correct," Eve replied, "But we are taking this opportunity to analyze other interactions he has had with Black Claw and with the Royals – some of whom are linked to Black Claw. I may be able to detect connections that were missed."
"That . . . that sounds like a fishing expedition," stammered Trubel.
Eve ignored her, once again lost in concentration. Meisner was still struggling, his movements becoming more panicked and less goal-directed. He twisted his head from side to side, but Eve just moved her hand along with his face, undeterred. He opened his mouth to speak. It took him a long time to actually produce any words. Finally, a hoarse whisper: ". . . bitte . . . nicht . . ."
"You said you needed his consent," Trubel argued, "That doesn't sound like consent to me."
"I needed his acquiescence to start the process. It is no longer relevant."
"Seriously. Stop it. Now." Trubel stepped between Eve and Meisner, grabbing Eve's right shoulder with her left hand and drawing her right hand back in a fist.
Eve gazed at her quizzically for several seconds, the only ambient sound the ragged breathing coming from the man in the chair. Infuriatingly calm, she asked, "What exactly do you plan to do? Meisner is an exceptionally useful operative, so it is logical to assume that I do not intend to permanently damage him. Yet you have no idea what damage might occur if you break my contact with him by force."
'Fuck,' Trubel thought, remaining motionless.
"If you are concerned about his suffering, your interference is only prolonging it."
Every fiber of Trubel's being protested that this was wrong and prompted her to slug the cold bitch. Instead, she removed her hand from Eve's shoulder and stepped back stiffly.
Eve stated, "I estimate that it will take me twenty minutes to complete this task."
Trubel glared at her the whole time. Meisner soon stopped fighting and sagged back in the chair, shivering a bit, but otherwise still. His gaze lost focus, eyes darting around rapidly like he was dreaming. Eve had to tilt his head up to a more neutral position so that hyperextension of his neck wouldn't impede his breathing. True to her word, Eve finished within the allotted interval. "Done," she announced. The glow from her fingers increased momentarily, then dissipated as she broke contact.
Meisner slumped forward, chin dropping toward his chest, shoulders shaking as he sobbed quietly. Eve promptly lost interest in him, becoming engrossed in her tablet. Trubel knelt down in front of him. She didn't know what to do. "It's ok. It's ok," she babbled.
When she tried to place a comforting hand on his bicep, he flinched away violently. So she did the only helpful thing she could think of: she unfastened the straps from his wrists, freeing him.
Meisner lurched to his feet and stumbled away a few steps. He looked back toward the women, eyes red-rimmed and wild. Eve glanced down to where Trubel's hand still hovered near a strap on the arm of the chair. "That may have been premature," she remarked dryly.
Trubel wasn't interested in the hexenbiest's opinion at the moment. "It's alright," she tried to soothe her colleague, who was looking around frantically for an escape route, "It's all over now. You're safe."
It wasn't clear whether he heard her. He headed for the door. The guards were stepping aside even before Trubel barked at them not to engage with him. The one with the sore wrist certainly didn't need to be told twice. However, the door was still locked. Meisner shifted his weight in a way that told Trubel he was about to try to break through the door with his shoulder – an impossible task with the reinforced doors in the compound. Trubel didn't want him to hurt himself, so she put herself between him and the door. She held up her hand and said, "Wait!"
That got his attention, and he paused long enough for Trubel to tell the guards to unlock the door.
"Is that wise?" said Eve.
"Look, I can't let you leave the building yet," Trubel addressed the distraught man, "Not 'til you've calmed down a bit. But you can go to your room, if you want. Do you want to go there?"
He didn't really indicate 'yes' or 'no', but at least he seemed to be listening to her. She nodded to a guard, who unlocked the door. She was confident that the security-conscious Eve would remotely lock and unlock the doors along their route, as needed. Trubel went along to make sure he got to his cell ok, without trying to make a break for it or kicking anyone's ass along the way. To be fair, he didn't seem inclined toward violence – he hadn't gone after her or Eve or the guards. But, like the two women, Meisner was a living weapon, and Trubel wasn't sure the safety was on right now. Hence, precautions were appropriate.
Fortunately, they weren't that far from personnel quarters and the corridor was deserted. Meisner walked under his own power, though he occasionally veered to the left, nearly colliding with the wall. When Trubel touched him on his right elbow to try to guide him, he pulled away. He let the fingers of his left hand trace along the wall as he walked, and that seemed to give him more stability. Trubel breathed a sigh of relief when they reached his door and he immediately went inside.
Meisner paced the length and breadth of the sparsely furnished room twice, then ducked into the small attached half-bath and splashed water on his face and toweled it off. He sat on the end of his bed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.
'Can I leave now?' Trubel thought, hopefully, then immediately felt guilty. She sucked at touchy-feely interpersonal stuff, so she was way outside her comfort zone right now. She wasn't sure if Meisner wanted her there – all of his recent actions and body language indicated that he wanted to get away from people. Still, just walking out seemed wrong.
She crouched near him, without touching him, and said gently, "Meisner?"
To her pleasant surprise, he looked right at her in response, his gaze wary, but lucid.
"Do you want me to stay?"
He stared back as if he had no idea what she was talking about. So, maybe not completely lucid.
"Should I stay here with you for a while?"
He shook his head.
Trubel nodded and slowly got up to leave. "Someone will check on you later. Maybe me. Maybe the medic. (It occurred to her that a little medical supervision might be in order). Not her."
As she was closing the door behind her she heard, "Thanks."
Then a solid, metallic click as the bolt slid into place.
[Author's note: I'm not a fan of gratuitous character torture. To see the point of it, you'll have to read the next chapter. And for that to happen, I'll have to write the next chapter . . . which could take a while!]