Chapter 9

Author's Notes: First of all, many apologies for the delays. Life happens, as I'm sure you know. I'm so deeply thankful to both Leave Your Sanity at the Door and MauMauKa for their invaluable assistance with this chapter, as well as Krugerstop for her support and feedback. Couldn't have done it without you guys.

Be sure to read Chapter 8 before this one. More to come soon!

Daybreak. It came as predictably on the torus as it did on Earth, through a combination of synchronized orbits and a specially engineered artificial sky, in exact twelve-hour intervals no matter the season on the planet below. Lorelei had heard it all explained in science class, and though she'd understood only certain parts, it was, like most other parts of life on Elysium, simply a given. Just like the pristine air, the crystalline water in endless supply, and the mind-bogglingly large array of foods and drinks available at each meal. She'd grown up knowing only perfection: shiny, beautiful, but ultimately hollow. Everything, from the carefully manicured lawns to the pleats in her school uniform skirt, was in its place. Yet she sensed there was about as much substance to it all as the holographic false cirrus clouds that the engineers sometimes floated overhead to try and add a sense of realism.

Lorelei wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, even Mr. Smith, but she'd long since grown bored with the predictability of it all. It was like living in one of those elaborate cuckoo clocks, with little clockwork people and animals doing precisely what they should, when they should. Even the torus' artificial rain was preprogrammed, and announced well in advance so no one's garden party would get soaked. Paradise was kind of dull, she thought. Unlike most of her fellow students, Lorelei read books about things that weren't symmetrical or carefully measured, like the roughly cratered surfaces of the Moon or Mars, or the wildlife that had survived extinction by quickly adapting to the harsh conditions on Earth.

She was even curious about the stories which were less science and much more rumor and myth: the super-soldiers produced through combining men's DNA with that of other creatures, for example, or the supposed human organ harvesting plants in the decaying megacities of Earth. Anila had even insisted once that there was a top-secret lab somewhere on the torus itselfbut Lorelei had never come across even a shred of evidence of this, either in person or in her many forays into the cyber-structure of Elysium. It sounded ludicrous, like something out of one of those silly old Earth spy stories. She'd laughed at it, but the idea remained somewhere in the outskirts of her consciousness, like a lingering cobweb. If it was there, she'd find it. She just needed time.

Once, a few years ago in class, Lorelei had asked about what had become her foremost fascination: the actual people on Earth. With so many of them, did they have enough water to drink, or even to bathe? Where did their food come from, and what kind was it? After she'd asked the questions, Lorelei felt oddly self-conscious, like she'd broached a forbidden subject. What studies they did of Earth were carefully structured, and Lorelei always had the strangest feeling that much of it was being censored or left out entirely. Her teacher had dismissed the question almost at once, speaking as if Lorelei were three instead of ten.

"They manage just fine, Miss Delacourt. In fact, Earth provides much in the way of our staple supplies, such as minerals and livestock, and we in turn share our technologies and skilled workers."

Lorelei found the exact passage later in one of her textbooks. The teacher had been quoting verbatim. She certainly hadn't shed any new light on the subject, and, in frustration, the girl had simply turned off the screen in disgust.

This particular morning, school was far from her mind. It was Saturday, normally a day she would have chosen to sleep in. Today, though, Lorelei practically bounced out of her bed. So much to do, and so little time in which to do it. After a quick shower in her spacious private bath, she hurriedly dressed, rehearsing over and over in her mind about what needed to go right today before her meeting with J.F. Drake.

"I'm so pleased to meet you," Lorelei said aloud to her freshly scrubbed and neatly dressed reflection, grinning crazily and offering her hand. No, that wasn't quite right. He'd think she was trying to sell him a cheap used aircar. "Enchante," she tried instead, borrowing one of her aunt's favorite words. A curtsy to go with it, then an uncomfortable fit of giggles. That wasn't right, either.

Lorelei stared at herself. What would her longtime correspondent see in her? A casual acquaintance? Better, an apprentice in waiting? Maybe he'd want to take her on all kinds of adventures, down to Earth, or if she were lucky, to the outer mining colonies in the asteroid belt, or the exotic Novoparaiso enclave on the surface of Mars. She stood rakishly, one arm cocked on her hip, imagining herself striking a similar pose on one of the sleek CCB ship's bridges and ordering a course set for some far-flung destination. Almost immediately, her lopsided grin disappeared.

Lorelei was suddenly glad no one else was around, especially someone like Mr. Smith, whom she genuinely liked and respected, or her aunt, whose approval she secretly, deeply craved more than anything in the world. She wasn't an agent, or a warrior, or anything special. Even her own mother often forgot she existed. Her reflection was only that of a girl, a lanky creature who might get knocked down by one strong breeze, if there even were such a thing in her artificial world.

You're just a little thing, so afraid, aren't you?

The doppelganger's lips didn't move, but the voice was there…and it wasn't even her own. Reedy, husky, dripping with sarcasm. That was his voice. She'd know it anywhere.

"I'm not scared of you," said Lorelei, the tiniest quaver betraying her false courage.

If you're not afraid, why do you shudder whenever I come close?

"It's not shuddering." She felt herself doing just that even as she spoke the words. "You're not even real." Another lie.

I'm more real than anything else in your life. Why won't you admit that?

Lorelei was shaking all over now, as if her dark visitor were hovering over one shoulder, whispering into her ear. "Leave me alone," she said between clenched teeth.

The reflection danced, shimmering, like a mirage on the hottest Earth day. What had been slight and pale became darker, taller, more menacing. A cowl obscured that craggy face. You just fucking make me, girl, came the raspy taunt.

That was all she could take. With all the force her slender body possessed, Lorelei seized the closest object to hand-one of her boots-and pounded it hard against the image in the mirror.

Nothing happened. Not even a crack.

Her dark reflection shifted slightly, and Lorelei imagined she saw a wry smile playing across those shadowed features. He was laughing at her, mocking her.

Again she struck, and again her rage had no effect on either the reflective surface or the figure within it. She still heard that cruel yet amused voice. He was enjoying this. Not much good at this, are you, sweetheart? he asked, stroking his chin with one long finger.

Lorelei turned away from the mirror, dropping the improvised weapon and closing her eyes tightly. She frantically tried to remember something happy, anything, to get rid of this monster before her. Mr. Smith's favorite meditation: a single candle flame, burning in an otherwise dark room. She breathed deeply, in and out, picturing that image. When at last she felt calm, Lorelei dared to peek over her shoulder.

The dark other was gone. At least for now.

She sank to her knees on the plush carpet. Right now she needed something tangible to anchor her down, and there seemed to be nothing.

I have to pull myself together. I can't let Mr. Drake see me like this. He'll think I'm crazy, and enough grown-ups think that about me already.

At that little irony, Lorelei allowed herself a chuckle. Somewhere, either in her mind or in the increasingly blurred boundaries between the real and the imaginary, she thought she heard the wickedly sardonic laugh of her shadow laughing along with, or perhaps, at her.

I know what's in your head, girl. Never forget that.

Lorelei felt a shudder pass through her slender body, then, just as the boogeyman had disappeared, it was gone.

~~s~~

Five years ago, when he'd unexpectedly had to put together a new team, Kruger had only mentally calculated only a few essential criteria. They had to be highly competent, of course, preferably a Gen 1 or 2 with all the latest upgrades. Since South Africans were disproportionately represented in the CCB's ranks, a fellow countryman was always welcome. Neither Petrov nor Hornberg, both solid and consummate professionals in the deadly arts of the mercenary, hailed from the old country, but they had hidden perks, Kruger knew now. Though both were comparatively young Gen 3s, they were excellent followers, never questioning an order. Better yet, they resembled a pair of stone obelisks while on duty, and even off. Stoic, unreadable…and both knew better than to try and make idle chatter with their leader, who already talked enough for three men when he felt so inclined.

Which was why, when the burly Swede asked the question that morning, Kruger was completely taken aback.

"Something bothering you, boss?" Hornberg said from the pilot box in that deep, rumbling baritone of his.

He must have been thinking of her again. Like all of his favorite drugs, he'd built up an increased tolerance over time, needing higher and more frequent doses of that glowing, otherworldly connection with the sleeping girl over the years until it was he practically needed it intravenously. Kruger realized it had been nearly a fortnight since he'd last gotten this particular fix. For a man who was already a connoisseur of all things illicit, it was the highest of highs. His Sleeping Beauty, he thought wickedly whenever he was at her bedside. He'd observed how her gentle, rhythmic breathing suddenly hitched and her whole body tensed when he took her hand, before swiftly returning to normal. Fascinating. She would stir, sometimes, even murmur something that might have been his name had he imagined it. What was she feeling, he wondered? What effect was hehaving on her? His precious little princess, with her cornsilk blonde hair and her sweetly scented skin; he wouldn't be the prince to show her Happy Ever After. Oh, no. He would corrupt her, ruin her beyond all redemption…and he would love every moment of it. If she did, too, all the better for it.

Often, he wondered about her dreams, and whether they mirrored his, which had grown clearer and sharper with every passing year. In them, she was sometimes still a child, sometimes fully grown. He had held her hands, kissed her and, depending on her age, gone much further. He had also chased her through one forbidding landscape after another, a wolf in pursuit of some helpless creature. The fact that she seemed utterly terrified only made it more thrilling. When he caught up to her, as he always did, she gave in - in the versions when she was older, at least - and surrendered like a good girl should. Most times after those, he woke up hard as a rail spike, and took great delight in continuing the fantasy until he brought himself to blissful release.

"Fuck, no," Kruger snapped, returning to the moment and feigning indifference to Hornberg's question. "Keep on course." They were on their way back to the torus from the agency spaceport in Dubai, normally a twenty-minute hop at most. Every mile that passed, it was as if he could sense her golden presence drawing closer. Maybe he had been salivating. It wouldn't surprise him. Two weeks away had only whetted his already voracious appetite.

He knew why he'd been kept away and sent into ever more dangerous situations. The ice-mare, that bitch she called an aunt, wanted it so. His educated guess was that maybe they were onto him by now; she, Smith, and the girl's shrink, much as he'd like to think otherwise, were not stupid. They were Gen 1s, like him, and Gen 1s were nobody's fool. Kruger suppressed a growl. He'd been painstakingly careful. Used that cloak every single time, made sure to arrange his nighttime visits around personal leave. So how had they known, if in fact they did know? And what was their endgame if they were playing it so coy with him?

The Raven shuddered as it passed through the hottest layers of Earth's atmosphere, but Kruger barely noticed. He'd made this journey thousands of times. Today seemed different, though, as if the ship were hurtling toward something…what?

Kruger searched for the right word. "Unknown" was as good as any, though in his long years of service, he'd seen nearly everything under the sun, and was no longer shocked or surprised by anything. At some point, though, he knew the connection with the girl might reach an end, and he hated to admit he hadn't planned that far. She'd be hidden from him, out of his reach for good when and if her dear auntie got wise to what was really happening. That was a disaster waiting to happen, since not only would he have to find some new favorite drug, and worse, he'd counted on the girl being exactly his type in another six or seven years, when she'd be able to give herself willingly, fully and completely to him. He'd make the dreams a reality for her, and much more. His lips curled up in a wicked, wolfish grin at that pleasant thought.

But until then, I can keep enjoying myself. Until then, I'll milk it for every drop it's worth.

Someone, either the ship's automated computer voice or Petrov, announced that they were five minutes away from the torus. Kruger wasn't paying attention. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Not only would he be getting a much-needed fix, he'd be doing it in front of half the torus' population, in plain sight. To him, the forbidden and taboo had always been as irresistible as fresh blood to sharks. The girl would be fully awake; Kruger wondered with a surge of excitement if perhaps that would increase the powerful rush. Would she scream? Sigh in ecstasy? Other than the inadvertent connection she'd brought about when she was much younger - his first introduction to the strange golden sensation - all his sessions with her, out of necessity, had taken place while she slept. And he'd grown so much more appreciative over time. He'd been desperately craving a high to top his previous hits, and this was it.

The best part of it was, no one would ever know it was him. Gaining entry to a party he hadn't been invited to would be tricky, but far from impossible for someone like him. Furthermore, the idea of trespassing filled him with glee. He'd initially planned to use the invisibility cloak like he always did, but thanks to that idiot Tselios, now he had an even better disguise. A newer generation Prosopos face-changing app, like so many other things invented by the CCB but perfected by the black market. Illegal, of course, and very hard to get…but somehow the younger man had just happened to have it, along with the dossier of a MIA South African agent named Stocks with roughly the same height, build, and accent. Even had a beard, fucking A. The planets must have been in the right alignment, because he'd practically begged Kruger to take it before they parted ways. It wouldn't have surprised Kruger if the kid had offered to give a blowjob to boot, had he asked for one. That thought was enough for a wry smile.

As for the girl, there was always time to go back and visit her at night if things got out of control. His smile widened.

"I owe you one, Drakey," he muttered under his breath. Wouldn't have found out about this fucking party if not for you and your new underling.

"What was that, boss?"

"Shut up. Just head for my place, Horny."

Technically, Kruger and his men had never been banned from Elysium in the years following the Incident. Quite the opposite; the Bureau needed them far more than they needed it, and they were in constant demand to deal with Earth's never-ending series of troubles. They still made frequent trips to and from the torus. However, they were always shadowed by Homeland Praetorians on these official visits, as if the ice-mare were afraid they'd try and kidnap her precious niece. The Raven was always assigned to dock at the furthest possible point from the residential zones. However, they could, and did, keep plenty of secrets from him, this party being only the latest.

They're not the only ones who can keep their fucking secrets, eh?

Below the ship, the velvety blackness of space had been replaced with the emerald lawns and sparkling clear lakes of an Elysian residential sector. Somewhere down there was their intended destination. "Put the ship down. I'll meet you two at the rendezvous point," Kruger ordered his pilot.

"You sure, boss?" It was Petrov, and he sounded about as surprised as Kruger had ever heard him.

Annoyed, Kruger glared at his men, and both flinched noticeably. "Just land the fucking ship. I need to do something personal, and it won't take long. Understood?"

Hornberg nodded, and, without another word, immediately circled the Raven overhead before landing ever so carefully on the broad, sculpted lawn, making sure not to leave any scorch marks. Kruger pulled on his armored vest out of pure habit. Even if he didn't really need it here, he'd feel naked without its comforting weight. The Gen 1s who were still alive hadn't survived this long by being careless. The ramp lowered, and without breaking a stride, Kruger trotted outside into the bright world.

Squinting, his black eyes quickly adjusted to the light as the Raven quickly flew away. The journey itself may have failed to awe him, but no matter how many times he experienced it, Kruger always seemed pleasantly surprised at the contrast between this atmosphere and the toxic, smoggy witch's brew on the planet below. He breathed in deeply, his senses tingling as the pure, clean air mingled with his bloodstream.

In a way, that first lungful of air was almost as good as the golden connection. Almost. He needed a fix in the worst possible way, which was why he was here. There's no place like fucking home.

The entire sector was full of sprawling mansions in every conceivable style from Georgian to neoclassical to Miami Beach chic, but this one, like its owner, was singular and matched nothing else around it. Perched atop a small rise, it might have appeared stark or even ugly to an untrained eye: in the place of frou-frou scrollwork, verandas, and sculpted marble were sharp angles, steel, and floor-to-ceiling glass. Like Kruger himself, it was sharp and precise. It shimmered in the sunlight like a mirage. Years ago, Kruger had drawn it up to his exact specifications, a combined effort courtesy of his favorite architects from the old country, SAOTA and Wessels Joyce Associates. He was proud of it and loved to show it off on those occasions he threw parties of his own, or even when he brought his female flavor of the week home for some extra-curricular activities. Kruger may not have spent much time here, it was true, but since he'd been rich even back when the torus was built, he'd decided to go all-out. Some of his fellow residents surely thought it the incongruous home was an eyesore (and had even nicknamed one of the hyper-modern sculptures inside, of a bright yellow neon rat crouching on its hind legs, by that moniker), but Kruger was happy to call it his own. When you spent most of your leisure time living in shanties and ships and hidey-holes in filthy Earth cities, as he had, you quickly learned to appreciate the value of personal comforts.

Though his visits home were increasingly rare, Kruger spared no expense with its security. At first glance, it might have appeared completely unguarded, but a closer inspection revealed several layers of top-level defenses in place: a nearly invisible force field shield similar to but much more powerful than the one generated by his armor pack, which would stun any intruder, regular perimeter patrols by silent but deadly airborne drones, and DNA-based locks which could only be opened by his unique genetic signature.

He'd initially considered Dobermans, or even a pack of genetically engineered hyenas, before deciding that was too theatrical even for him. It must have been his strange humor that incorporated the snarling sounds of those beasts as part of the system, though…the few intruders who'd gotten past the first level of security had quickly run away once they'd heard that.

As he approached now, it was as if the house had been waiting for him. With a few taps to his comlink, Kruger entered the security codes for that particular day. It was hard to believe he'd once resisted the idea of having data uploaded directly into his brain. Now he couldn't imagine life without it. Makes keeping security a lot easier, and all the porn I could ever want on demand…gotta love modern technology, eh?

Having disabled all the outward traps, Kruger made his way inside to the foyer, which was seemingly empty. His home was just the way he'd left it: immaculate, spotless, and, despite the overwhelming presence of Eyesore, tastefully decorated in an ultra-modern style with shades of off-white and grey. He stretched like a big cat and took a deep breath. With a slight wince, he realized the sharp tang he smelled wasn't coming from anywhere in the house itself, but rather from underneath his armpits. He'd put on a clean set of fatigues that morning, and usually didn't perspire much, but today, for some reason, he was sweating profusely. Before this party, he'd need a bath in his walk-in shower on the second floor. He'd enjoy it, and give his hair and beard a needed trim while he was at it. The things I forget to do while I'm working, he thought with amusement.

So deep was he in thoughts of hot, tropical rain on his body that Kruger almost missed it when he reached the stairs. Most people would have, but Kruger was not most people, and one of the reasons he was still alive was his uncanny eye for the small things.

One of the items from the curio was missing, and it took a moment for him to realize what it was. A piece of coral from one of the now-sunken Indian Ocean islands. Everything else was still there, as if it had never been touched. Only that single piece was gone. It was like one of those children's games where the object was to spot the irregularity. Kruger frowned, stooping down to study the empty space more closely.

Why the fuck would anyone bother taking that? There's enough valuables in here to finance a private army, if you know where to look. But nothing else had been disturbed. Leaning in even closer, Kruger sniffer deeply as if he were a bloodhound trying to find its quarry. The lingering scent was faint, like a memory of a memory, but it registered immediately.

The girl. The one whose golden thread kept him coming back again and again. It was her. Somehow, some way, she'd been here, and taken that tiny bit of coral as a souvenir.

He paced back and forth, all thoughts of a hot shower forgotten for the moment, and in their place, a hundred questions circling around the act of petty theft. Kruger had no name for the feeling that surged through him. It was perplexing how anyone, much less a girl, could slip through all the layers of home defense. At the same time, the thought thrilled him, because it meant, at least in his mind, that she'd gone looking for him just as he sought her out. Why the fuck else would she be here? Thanks to Drake's secret correspondence with the girl, which Kruger had eagerly devoured that last night in Dubai, he'd now been fully filled in on Lorelei's poor, sad life: how she hated her aunt and her shrink, her struggles fitting in, and oh, how she was terrified of the big, bad "boogeyman" who came visiting her at night. That was enough to elicit another wolfish grin. Nowhere in the letters, though, had the girl said anything about coming here. If it was her who had stolen the coral, and he was sure of it now, Kruger wondered why she hadn't mentioned it.

Why she'd go searching for the thing that scared her most, well, that was something he'd just have to figure out. There was time enough…and maybe, if he were lucky, Kruger thought he might get to ask her face to face tonight.

As he climbed the stairs two at a time, Kruger was positively grinning.

To Be Continued