Rosenkreuz. sweet Rosenkreuz
Part 11: The Straw and the Camel's Back
He picked himself up off the floor of the shielded practice room, panting rapidly and rubbing his throbbing head. He struggled back up into the chair he was 'generously' allowed to use and glared at the woman sitting calmly across from him.
"Not too successful, was it?" She made a notation on her ever-present clipboard. "I don't know about you, Schuldich. So much potential. you're just not applying yourself."
/I apply myself, you bitch. you don't teach./ He held no hopes that she didn't hear him. but his mental comments were generally ignored.
Sure enough, she smiled smugly. "Let's try it again. shall we?"
**
Agony. That was the only word that could describe the feeling in his skull. Normal analgesics did nothing for him anymore. He was reduced to conning a greenie out of some serious painkillers, or stealing them from the infirmary. That was a dangerous prospect all the way around. Stealing from fellow students was like anything else. ignored as long as you didn't get caught. Stealing from the instructors or the school. the punishment tended to be harsh. His last stint in the 'Pit' had lasted five days, and unlike his first trip there, he was included in the 'corporeal punishment'. He doubted some of the scars would ever disappear completely.
"Schuldich." He looked up to see on of his classmates. what was his name again. Luke. Lucas. something like that.
"What?"
"Message for you. from Schultz." He tossed the innocuous note onto the redhead's bunk and walked off.
Bren glared at the small white bundle of folded paper. With a sigh, he picked it up, his name scrolling across the front in flowing script. He opened it. as he expected. He crushed the paper in his hand. How did the man know when it would be the worst time to call him? He flopped back on the cot. He had considered not going before. But he was a little afraid of what would happen if he did refuse. It was infinitely easier on him if he cooperated, he didn't enjoy the experience certainly, but at least he didn't come out of that office on a gurney.
He could hear the rest of his year-mates leaving for dinner. They knew better than to ask him. He would either come or he wouldn't, but he didn't socialize. After the room and hall had been quiet for about a quarter hour, he forced himself to rise and get cleaned up. Schultz wanted his presence at a private dinner in his office.
Life really sucked.
**
It couldn't be. but did anyone else exude that same air of smug confidence? Did anyone else have black hair so meticulously combed? The man shifted, and Bren was positive. Brad. It could be none other. He mentally checked his schedule. Nothing for the next two periods except for study hall and a free session. The man didn't seem to be too busy, seated in a small lounge reading a newspaper.
Hands in his pockets, Bren checked for others, visually and mentally, then entered the lounge.
"About time you came in."
He should have figured the man would have known he was there. Probably before he'd even walked down the hallway. "Nice to see you too."
The American folded his paper, laying it aside. "Well. you're still in one piece."
"More or less."
"A little less than before I think." Bren just shrugged. "Just remember. you ARE going to graduate."
"Do I want to?"
The older man frowned. "I won't be able to use you if you don't."
"Gee. I feel so loved." He sat back, resting the back of his head on the top of the couch. "They use me. you use me. he uses me."
"He?"
/Oh shit. why do I open my big mouth./ "Nothing."
"Schuldich."
"It's nothing I can't handle." He didn't hear anything from the other man, finally, curiosity got the better of him and he opened one eye. Brad was outright scowling at him. "What?"
The American sighed. "Nothing. just. nothing. I'll be around for a while."
Bren sat up straighter. "Really? What are you doing?"
"R/R. Recovery and Recruitment."
"Oh, lovely. so you get to track down the hapless sheep they bring in here, huh?"
"And retrieve runaways."
"Runaways? Has anyone ever gotten out?"
The precog looked at him, an odd expression on his face. "Not often. but it does happen from time to time."
"Ah."
**
"You're pathetic. a fourth-year and you STILL can't block me? And you're supposed to be a strong telepath."
She went on and on, belittling him and his abilities. Bren could barely even comprehend what she was saying; his head was ringing so badly. He just lay on the floor and let the words roll over him. He hated that bitch. He wished she was dead. He wanted to fry her brain. wait. she was a tp. not a tk.
"Now... you would probably make some progress if I tutored you in the evening. What do you say, Schuldich?"
If he could have, he would have rolled his eyes. She was trying to seduce him? Like he'd ever want to be with a whore like her. He knew she was routinely fucking the other two telepaths in his year alone. not to mention the other years.
Wait. him. going to HER quarters. where there were no cameras. no other students waiting. no supervision. No body check.
"When?"
He wished he had his eyes open to see the expression on her face.
"Ah. tonight? Say. ten?"
He rolled over and got to his feet. He hoped his slight bow was appropriately servile. "I will be there."
"I'm so glad you are finally coming around. Tonight then." She breezed out the practice room.
Bren made his way back to the dorm. /Oh. I'm definitely coming around./
**
Five minutes to ten. A student slipped down the hall containing the instructors' suites. In a shadowy alcove, he quickly checked his weapon, attaching the silencer and loading a bullet into the chamber. Normally he wouldn't carry it around like that. but he would only get one shot. If this didn't work. he would either be dead, she would fry his brain, or worse yet. he could end up as one of the 'experiments' they housed over in the 'Pit'.
Ten o'clock. He stood in front of her door.
"Come in Schuldich."
He walked in, closing the door behind him. He looked around.
"In the bedroom."
He walked to the door. She was displayed, that could be the only word for it, amidst a pile of silken sheets and pillows. The only light came from dozens of candles. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on a small table.
"Come in. come in. take off your clothes. make yourself comfortable."
Bren took a deep breath, trying to keep his thoughts on his nervousness, what he thought of her 'attire', how afraid he was of her. nothing about his plans. /Don't think about the gun. Don't think about killing the bitch. Don't think about how that. lingerie. makes her look more like a prostitute than a./
He turned away; ostensibly to remove his uniform coat. he reached into the holster under his arm.
"I'll pour the wine."
He turned around. Her back was to him. He took aim on her head and felt the calm fall over him. His shooting instructor was always very impressed with his ability to focus on his shot.
She started to turn.
Her eyes widened and he could feel her mental fingers in his head.
He felt the weapon recoil.
Blood sprayed out in a graceful arc.
He calmly redid his coat and left the way he had entered.
TBC
He picked himself up off the floor of the shielded practice room, panting rapidly and rubbing his throbbing head. He struggled back up into the chair he was 'generously' allowed to use and glared at the woman sitting calmly across from him.
"Not too successful, was it?" She made a notation on her ever-present clipboard. "I don't know about you, Schuldich. So much potential. you're just not applying yourself."
/I apply myself, you bitch. you don't teach./ He held no hopes that she didn't hear him. but his mental comments were generally ignored.
Sure enough, she smiled smugly. "Let's try it again. shall we?"
**
Agony. That was the only word that could describe the feeling in his skull. Normal analgesics did nothing for him anymore. He was reduced to conning a greenie out of some serious painkillers, or stealing them from the infirmary. That was a dangerous prospect all the way around. Stealing from fellow students was like anything else. ignored as long as you didn't get caught. Stealing from the instructors or the school. the punishment tended to be harsh. His last stint in the 'Pit' had lasted five days, and unlike his first trip there, he was included in the 'corporeal punishment'. He doubted some of the scars would ever disappear completely.
"Schuldich." He looked up to see on of his classmates. what was his name again. Luke. Lucas. something like that.
"What?"
"Message for you. from Schultz." He tossed the innocuous note onto the redhead's bunk and walked off.
Bren glared at the small white bundle of folded paper. With a sigh, he picked it up, his name scrolling across the front in flowing script. He opened it. as he expected. He crushed the paper in his hand. How did the man know when it would be the worst time to call him? He flopped back on the cot. He had considered not going before. But he was a little afraid of what would happen if he did refuse. It was infinitely easier on him if he cooperated, he didn't enjoy the experience certainly, but at least he didn't come out of that office on a gurney.
He could hear the rest of his year-mates leaving for dinner. They knew better than to ask him. He would either come or he wouldn't, but he didn't socialize. After the room and hall had been quiet for about a quarter hour, he forced himself to rise and get cleaned up. Schultz wanted his presence at a private dinner in his office.
Life really sucked.
**
It couldn't be. but did anyone else exude that same air of smug confidence? Did anyone else have black hair so meticulously combed? The man shifted, and Bren was positive. Brad. It could be none other. He mentally checked his schedule. Nothing for the next two periods except for study hall and a free session. The man didn't seem to be too busy, seated in a small lounge reading a newspaper.
Hands in his pockets, Bren checked for others, visually and mentally, then entered the lounge.
"About time you came in."
He should have figured the man would have known he was there. Probably before he'd even walked down the hallway. "Nice to see you too."
The American folded his paper, laying it aside. "Well. you're still in one piece."
"More or less."
"A little less than before I think." Bren just shrugged. "Just remember. you ARE going to graduate."
"Do I want to?"
The older man frowned. "I won't be able to use you if you don't."
"Gee. I feel so loved." He sat back, resting the back of his head on the top of the couch. "They use me. you use me. he uses me."
"He?"
/Oh shit. why do I open my big mouth./ "Nothing."
"Schuldich."
"It's nothing I can't handle." He didn't hear anything from the other man, finally, curiosity got the better of him and he opened one eye. Brad was outright scowling at him. "What?"
The American sighed. "Nothing. just. nothing. I'll be around for a while."
Bren sat up straighter. "Really? What are you doing?"
"R/R. Recovery and Recruitment."
"Oh, lovely. so you get to track down the hapless sheep they bring in here, huh?"
"And retrieve runaways."
"Runaways? Has anyone ever gotten out?"
The precog looked at him, an odd expression on his face. "Not often. but it does happen from time to time."
"Ah."
**
"You're pathetic. a fourth-year and you STILL can't block me? And you're supposed to be a strong telepath."
She went on and on, belittling him and his abilities. Bren could barely even comprehend what she was saying; his head was ringing so badly. He just lay on the floor and let the words roll over him. He hated that bitch. He wished she was dead. He wanted to fry her brain. wait. she was a tp. not a tk.
"Now... you would probably make some progress if I tutored you in the evening. What do you say, Schuldich?"
If he could have, he would have rolled his eyes. She was trying to seduce him? Like he'd ever want to be with a whore like her. He knew she was routinely fucking the other two telepaths in his year alone. not to mention the other years.
Wait. him. going to HER quarters. where there were no cameras. no other students waiting. no supervision. No body check.
"When?"
He wished he had his eyes open to see the expression on her face.
"Ah. tonight? Say. ten?"
He rolled over and got to his feet. He hoped his slight bow was appropriately servile. "I will be there."
"I'm so glad you are finally coming around. Tonight then." She breezed out the practice room.
Bren made his way back to the dorm. /Oh. I'm definitely coming around./
**
Five minutes to ten. A student slipped down the hall containing the instructors' suites. In a shadowy alcove, he quickly checked his weapon, attaching the silencer and loading a bullet into the chamber. Normally he wouldn't carry it around like that. but he would only get one shot. If this didn't work. he would either be dead, she would fry his brain, or worse yet. he could end up as one of the 'experiments' they housed over in the 'Pit'.
Ten o'clock. He stood in front of her door.
"Come in Schuldich."
He walked in, closing the door behind him. He looked around.
"In the bedroom."
He walked to the door. She was displayed, that could be the only word for it, amidst a pile of silken sheets and pillows. The only light came from dozens of candles. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on a small table.
"Come in. come in. take off your clothes. make yourself comfortable."
Bren took a deep breath, trying to keep his thoughts on his nervousness, what he thought of her 'attire', how afraid he was of her. nothing about his plans. /Don't think about the gun. Don't think about killing the bitch. Don't think about how that. lingerie. makes her look more like a prostitute than a./
He turned away; ostensibly to remove his uniform coat. he reached into the holster under his arm.
"I'll pour the wine."
He turned around. Her back was to him. He took aim on her head and felt the calm fall over him. His shooting instructor was always very impressed with his ability to focus on his shot.
She started to turn.
Her eyes widened and he could feel her mental fingers in his head.
He felt the weapon recoil.
Blood sprayed out in a graceful arc.
He calmly redid his coat and left the way he had entered.
TBC